Who knew that the land of croppin' moms had an unseemly underbelly?
The scrapbook makes her life look so gosh-darned beautiful, what
with all of the die-cuts and journals and sepia-toned baby snapshots,
that it's hard to believe that there might be undercurrents of whiney
judgementalness.
Eh, not really. It seems that anywhere that
women gather -- and I say this as a woman, mind you -- there is bound
to be a little bit of holier-than-thouness. Just look at
Strollerderby's own recent bout with the petty tyranny of the perfect mom.
But still - scrapbooking? Is there a more benign and bland hobby?
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