Please stay. I want you. I need you. Oh god.

The agony and the ecstasy of having boys.

Call me old-fashioned, but I only want my sons’ to marry women with dead mothers. Or better yet, stay single forever and only love me.

My eldest is ten, and he just asked someone to be his girlfriend. They don’t kiss or touch or even stand less than five feet apart, but it’s devastating nonetheless.

I never thought I would be this person. I’m not a stay-at-home mom; I have a job and an action-packed life of my own. But I’ve realized it doesn’t matter, because for mothers of sons, the red pill and the blue pill both lead to the same place. We find ourselves abandoned, forgotten, and relegated to voicemail for eternity.

I used to find it odd that my mother-in-law fell apart when Jason got engaged. Now, I can’t stop crying. Not because anything has happened. But more because I see what’s coming. My baby Remora, the little vampire who has spent his life sucking me dry, is the most emotionally high-maintenance man I have ever dated. Brook, I am going to lose him.