“Enjoy it while it lasts” was always the sage advice I got from grandmothers watching my tantrum-throwing toddler. I would be trying to put him down, so I could eat a meal with a fork. I’d look at them, smile, and think, “Miss kicking-screaming-snot-filled-face-wipes-on-my-shirt fits? I don’t think so.” A new mother longs for the days when she can take a shower with the curtain closed because every time she closes it her baby’s mouth is open. The life you had before the baby feels like a lifetime ago. Freedom. Independence. Showers. Distant memories of the past. Eating. Sleeping. Shaving. Luxuries you can’t afford anymore, all because you’re somebody’s mom. You took watching TV uninterrupted for granted. You can’t remember a time you walked unencumbered or in heels, without tiny little hands gripped around your ankles as you leave for work. Carried a purse instead of a diaper bag. Read a book without pictures. Be normal. Those are the days I should’ve enjoyed while they lasted. That should be advice these grandmothers dispense. These women done with play dates, birthday parties, and park visits. These brunching-bottomless-mimosa bitches. These sisterhoods of the stainless pants. These women have independent children. Children with driver’s licenses and part-time jobs. These women have teenagers, college students and full-fledged adults that call them mom. So what do these women know? A lot. Single Moms Get a Life