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The Love Hate Relationships That Depress Me

In my younger days, I had my share of silly, tumultuous relationships … boyfriends, high school friends, the height of my hair, Jon Bon Jovi. I still have my share of love-hate relationships — pathetically, they are even more embarrassing.

– My Suburban LOVE: It is my second home. HATE: It smells like sour milk and sweaty shin guards. – My Clarisonic LOVE: At my age, I need it. HATE: At my age, I need it. – My iPhone LOVE: What would I do without it? HATE: My kids can contact me at any time. – My Chardonnay LOVE: What’s not to love? HATE: I can’t drink it in my Suburban. – My Caffeine LOVE: It protects my children from my un-caffeinated self. HATE: They don’t make it in a mouthwash. – My Husband LOVE: I made a vow. HATE: He’s such a guy sometimes. – Jon Bon Jovi LOVE: Only love, Jon. Only love — I’ve matured!

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About Dr. Karen Latimer

I’m a family physician now struggling to take care of a bunch of kids who keep calling me Mom. When I’m not wiping butts, refereeing sibling rivalry and chauffeuring over-scheduled little people, I write a family medical blog that gives you five thoughts on all sorts of different health topics.

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