Grapefruit Moscow Mules
Greetings, earthlings. I am writing to you from a distant and remote place called motherhood. The land where sleeping hours are few, the air smells of sour milk, and tiny people undo every household task you attempt to accomplish. For example, that laundry you just folded? It's now stuffed in the back of the toy box. Oh, and that diaper you just changed? Yeah, you're gonna want to strap on some latex gloves for what's going on in there now. And those new shoes you just bought? Well, they're filled with puddles of spit up that poured off you shoulder, dripped down your back, and finally squished its way under the soles of your feet. Don't even get me started on nursing bras. Nothing says "I'm feeling sexy" like covering your utilitarian lady parts with thicks mounds of flesh-toned fabric that's all rigged up with elastic and plastic hardware. Doesn't that...
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