greetings from suburbia
Used to be cool, NYC chick, who used to go to restaurants based purely on it's New York Magazine review, brunched on weekends and perused farmers markets, actually attended NYFW, and knew all the best rooftop bars and BYOB places.
Now raising (feminist, know-how-to-compost and love the earth, half Welsh, confident but-not-too-confident-they-are-assholes) babies in suburbia, who now goes to mediocre Italian restaurants highlighting kids-eat-free Tuesdays without reservations because you don't need reservations at 5pm, can be found at ballet/gymnastics/soccer/playground on weekends and scours farmers markets only for apple cider donuts and taught myself to make own delicious gin + tonics to sip before 5pm to survive the beginning of the bedtime routine.
Now raising (feminist, know-how-to-compost and love the earth, half Welsh, confident but-not-too-confident-they-are-assholes) babies in suburbia, who now goes to mediocre Italian restaurants highlighting kids-eat-free Tuesdays without reservations because you don't need reservations at 5pm, can be found at ballet/gymnastics/soccer/playground on weekends and scours farmers markets only for apple cider donuts and taught myself to make own delicious gin + tonics to sip before 5pm to survive the beginning of the bedtime routine.
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