I gotta tell you ladies something for the good of your own souls, so listen up. There is no reason for you to worry about your parenting skills because if yerz truly can DO THIS MOTHERFUCKIN THING, so can you. There’s a bottle of wine with your name on it waiting for you at the end of the day. YOU’VE GOT THIS.

Look, there’s no shame in ripping an epic vent when your asshole kids are destroying your life, and if listening to an angry woman calling out her own kids for being little pieces of shit is not your cup of tea, then move along little doggie, out you go.

Just yesterday my boys were at the playground tearing up the place while I was trying to have two seconds to myself sitting on a goddamn bench in the shade. Ethan dumped a metric buttload of sand on some princessy girl’s head and Lord Jesus what a stink her mom made, and then Aiden gave that lady the bird like he’d been doing it since he was in the womb.

I’m not making excuses for my boys and they know what they did was all kinds of wrong, but then all these other kids scattered from the sandbox like the lifeboat free-for-all at the end of The Titanic. It was a total clusterfuck of parents grabbing their kids’ arms to get them away from the feral psychopaths (my kids). I tried to explain to those other moms that Ethan and Aiden didn’t mean to create this shitstorm, boys will be boys, ET CETERA, but who needs facts when we’ve got yelling?

Truth is, my boys are dicks and I know it and I need a drink.

(Where are those nip bottles I stashed in Ethan’s diaper bag, goddammit??)

I don’t mean to complain, but this whole parenting business is crazypants stressful, and if I didn’t have this blogging gig, I would blow my brains out. 

Is it so bad that I need a mother’s little helper? Being a mom is HARD. That’s why I blog about it, so all you readers will know you’re not alone when you need to drink yourselves under your Bugaboo strollers just to cope with your obnoxious spawn. Who doesn’t need a little something now and then, like wine or heroin?

My mother-in-law, may she die as soon as fucking possible, thinks I swear too much in front of my boys and she can go to hell. Her and her obscene Lululemon yoga pants she crams herself into like a tick about to burst. She’s a disgusting, self-absorbed, entitled asshat who’s deluded herself into believing she matters on this earth. She’s invited herself over for dinner tonight and no way am I up for that. Where’s my smack? I had a little Ziploc bag. Some. Where. Around. Here.

I know what you’re thinking, you people on the Internet, and we need to talk. It’s about your judging. You think I’m blogging about my drug habit to get sympathy, but you’re wrong. I’m doing it for the page views. Just kidding! But I’ll take that sympathy if it’s still available. I’ll need it when the mommy police come knocking and arrest me and try to take my kids away from me because, did you hear, moms are being criminalized all over this country!

My boys suck. I’m sorry, but they do. If you think I’m not going to seek better living through chemistry, you are wrong my friend. You folks who scream “first world problems” in the comments every time I rant about how hard it is to get a two-year-old to nap while I’m blogging need to STFU.

You have no idea how horrid it is to try to juggle parenting and a career and NO I CANNOT LEAN IN. I’m leaning way the hell back. My MIL says I need to let go and let God. The Nope train to Fuck-That-Shit-Ville just left the station and yerz truly is hopping on board. (I borrowed part of that expression from another blogger but I’m making it my own.) You know, I think about this a lot, and there is zero doubt that since the dawn of time, no one has had a worse mother-in-law than I’ve got. My God that woman ruins every iota of my life.

Anyhoo, time to shoot up and then go fix those boys a snack. Damn, I need a vacation.

(PS. This is satire).


Lori Day is an educational psychologist, consultant and parenting coach with Lori Day Consulting in Newburyport, MA. She is the author of Her Next Chapter: How Mother-Daughter Book Clubs Can Help Girls Navigate Malicious Media, Risky Relationships, Girl Gossip, and So Much More, and speaks on the topic of raising confident girls in a disempowering marketing and media culture. You can connect with Lori on Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest.


Wannabe's are Guest Authors to BLUNTmoms. They might be one-hit wonders, or share a variety of posts with us. They "may" share their names with you, or they might write as "anonymous" but either way, they are sharing their stories and their opinions on our site, and for that we are grateful.


  1. it’s official. I have a blogger crush on you. Your balls-to-the-wall humor is crazy good. If you’re ever in Dallas, shots are on me! (I feel the need to clarify that I mean burn-as-it-goes-down-hard-liquor shots and not bullet hole center mass shots since Texans do love their guns.)

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