“Holy crap. I am a mom!”
That is seriously what I was thinking as the dust settled around me from shooting a .50 caliber rifle. On my first experiment back from maternity leave, I found myself perched on a hill in a rock quarry aiming a huge firearm at a remote-controlled SUV covered in phone books. But how come I still felt like me? I figured once you become a mom, you settled down and let the waistline of your jeans slowly creep north.
— excerpt from Kari’s first entry.