All the darling gay guys we've been working with on our house adore Milan while verging on either awe or pity as to the plight of fulltime motherhood. They are happy to return to their Frank Lloyd Wright pads, kick up their heels and enjoy the silence. The freedom. The nonchalance of not being a parent. The very bearable lightness of being. Of watching Nate Berkus on Oprah and going antiquing on weekends without dragging a one-year-old along. But I wouldn't trade lives. I appreciate their empathy, I feel a little sad and then I give Milan a huge bear hug.
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