Book to Make You Feel Better: ‘Sh*tty Mom’
If you’ve ever encountered the world of play dates, you’ll totally understand this Sh*tty Mom‘s frustration and pain.
Totally, right? Though I admit I’ve taken my kid to a playdate and overstayed my welcome. I had two reasons. First, I didn’t know the mom so I felt uncomfortable leaving my child at her house. (I mean, what if her housekeeper was a serial killer?) Second, she baked coffee crumb cake and had a real cappuccino maker. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Whatever mistake you make, this hilarious book reminds you that you’re not alone, and it’s okay. We’re all sh*tty sometimes.
Read Sh*tty Mom right now because it will make you laugh out loud–just be careful of peeing your pants if you’ve delivered three babies vaginally. (I’m not talking about myself.) Written by four funny moms with cool daytime jobs in TV, the advice–or rather anti-advice–is sometimes indecent but always rings deliciously true. The chapter titles tell you what you need to know: How to Leave Your Kids to Go on a Business Trip, And Sometimes the A$$hole is You, You Aren’t Paranoid, Everyone Does Hate Your Baby and He Wants Sex, You Want to Sew Your Legs Shut for 10 Years.
With wit and candor, the book spells out all the things we moms do and think but would never tell anyone about. Do you have a Sh*tty Mom confession? Read mine at the jump…
I hate thank you cards! I hate writing them because I have no idea which person gave which kid which gift. Keeping track would require an Excel spreadsheet, and I suck at data. I don’t even like getting thank you cards–especially ones from the 2-year-old kid that the mom obviously wrote. Like this one I recently received: “Hi Annabelle, Thank you for coming to my birthday party. I love playing with the educational world map puzzles you gave me. Love, Hazel.” Hazel still wears diapers. These thank yous remind me of people who send Christmas letters from their cats. Dear parents everywhere, even if you do write the nice note yourself, save your stamp. Don’t send one to me. Then I don’t feel so obligated to reciprocate, something I never do anyway.