I’m not a mommy blogger. Because if I were I would have to admit that I’m a mom and that it’s no longer acceptable for me to get wasted at happy hour, only to find myself still out at 4am trying to get a cop to arrest a bouncer who refuses to card me, right before I pass out face-first in a tub of lo mein because all I had for dinner were the olives in my drinks. At least not without getting dirty looks from other moms and a judgmental phone call from Child Protective Services. So you see, I’m not a mommy blogger.
I’m a writer who happens to have a blog and a baby (or two) and apparently a history of acting like a drunken ass in bars.
To prove this to myself, I submitted my blog to TMB (Top Mommy Blogs)—a database of the Internet’s smartest…
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