I am ready to hit the ground running, even though I can’t actually run because I’m still healing from getting dozens of stitches in my vagina.

My type of humor. Didn’t know McSweeneys could be so cynical.

And speaking of breast milk, it’s no problem that you barged into my office while I was pumping, even though I have a sign on the door that says MOM BREAK. PLEASE KNOCK. It could happen to anyone.

You’re right, I haven’t talked that much about my baby. That’s not because earlier I thought of how his newborn smell is fading from his head and I’m losing opportunities to breathe it in, and it made me so depressed that I cried in the car for fifteen minutes. It’s because I’m so jazzed to instead talk about the new AI interface that was integrated into our client-management software and to use words like “optimize” and “paradigm shift.”

Stating the obvious here, but this was clearly written by a mother.