What does mama guilt look like? Mama guilt looks like baking rocket ship cookies at 10 p.m., knowing that means you won’t get to sleep ’til 11 (’cause cooling / putting away time), because you feel like you haven’t done enough for your daughter’s 9th birthday party. (While also feeling simultaneously really really glad that for the first time ever, you’ve skipped doing a party at the house, because you are too tired to do dishes.) Mostly I avoid the mama guilt like a feminist hero, but every once in a while it sneaks up on me.
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