The stereotype is true that the more kids you have, the more you let go. I used to think of it as a frazzled and frustrated letting things go, the type that elicits searing thoughts like, What a shame, she’s really let herself go.
You know the picture—a disheveled mom with greasy hair and milk-stained t-shirt wearing the same sweatpants four days in a row. I’m sure I looked down on those poor women. Children are just such a burden, no wonder she’s a wreck.
