BAD MOMMY: The Truth About Motherhood! blah, blah, blah


In case you missed it, the other day Oprah did a show about moms “breaking the silence” about motherhood.  Moms talked about their secret lives and feelings.  They talked about embarrassing incidents mainly involving their children’s bodily fluids.  I don’t know.  This whole secret-lives-of-mothers thing seems a bit passe.  All you have to do is read a few mommy blogs or listen in on some conversations to know that moms don’t have many secrets, and that no topic is all that taboo. I don’t think it’s the best kept secret that moms are often exhausted, irritated, lonely and bored. Sometimes we feel judged and inadequate. Sometimes we hide in the shower with a beer bong and a twelve pack of Schlitz. What? Like Oprah’s show is a “judgement-free zone.”

On the show Heather Armstrong (writer of the mother of all mother blogs, Dooce) admits she can do away with plastic toys and isn’t good at arts and crafts. Oh snap! SHHHHHH!!! I waited to hear “the parts of motherhood no one knows about.” Just what parts are those? We’ve been literally poked and prodded and sucked dry. Most of our husbands have seen a head come out of our vaginas. Some of them were lucky enough to see us poo on a table while the head came out of the vagina–there’s really not all that much we have left to expose. If anything we’re way too out there. Nothing has been left unseen or unsaid. Our stories are scattered all over the place, giving sitcoms ample opportunity to mess things up. Case in point: the new show, “In the Motherhood.”  It’s truly lame. Lame plots and language, and no mothers dress like that just to hang out with each other. The dialogue is awful. We’re way more unpolished immature, awkward, obnoxious, and mundane. We can hang out for hours and just talk about food and our children’s sleeping schedules. We’re also way more crude. Here are some snippets of conversations I’ve had (or overheard) with other moms recently that pretty much represent the gamut. 

“I hate it when my boobs sweat. You know, the underneath part?”
“I hate that!”

“Were you horny when you were pregnant? I masturbated constantly.”
“I felt like an ape if I did that.”
“I almost humped my bedpost once. It was looking real good!”

“So I guess “Hayden” is starting Elimination Communication. Why can’t they just say, “Potty Training?” No one better teach my kid to use the word “Elimination.” My son will say, “Poop.” He will say, “Mommy, I crapped my pants.””

“I haven’t had a pot brownie in so long.”
“We should totally make them.”
“That would be so funny!”
“Can you imagine?”
“Oh, did you want to dye eggs Saturday? I got this kit. It has stickers and shit.”

“Every afternoon I think I’m good then bam. They start whining and I crack open a beer. I have to.”
“I know! I’ve actually been trying to hold out until the weekend. Can’t do it.”
“So it’s okay to drink every night?”
“I think so. It makes me a better parent, personally.”

“I got that Carmen Electra aerobics strip tease video and I’m going to learn something for his birthday. I’ve been practicing.”
“Oh my god are you serious? You’re such a good wife!”

“The other night I took off my underwear and was like, “Ok. go. Before American Idol starts.” It was like the best thing that ever happened to him.  I didn’t even shower.”
“I don’t know what song to strip to. I was thinking that Fergie one, but he has this serious thing for Fergie and I don’t want him to be thinking of her.”
“Why not! Then it will be over quicker.”
“That’s true. Kids! Five more minutes!”
“You’ve said that, like, twenty times.”

“I got the crab call in college.”
“The what?”
“The crab call. You know—‘I have crabs and I’m calling you and the other people I’ve slept with to tell you about it so you can shave your pussy hair off and take crab-be-gone pills.”
“I can’t believe he called to tell you. I wouldn’t call. Would you?”
“I don’t think so. It’s pretty responsible. He was all business about it. Offered to make me an appointment.”
“Whoa. That’s the kind of guy who will take care of a baby. He’ll do night feedings.”
“I know.”
“So did you have crabs? Are they actual crabs? Like with pinchers?” 
“I don’t know. I didn’t have them. That’s why I wouldn’t call. I mean he endured unnecessary embarrassment. He will forever by the guy with crabs.”
“Forever Crabby.”
“I was such a slut back then.”
“I’ve only slept with three people other than ____.”
“Really? You seem slutty. Like you’d be recognized by the back of your head.”
“Fuck you.”

There.  Now you’re in the motherhood, bitches. Now give me a sitcom.

I'm Kaui. Mother of one, author of House of Thieves, The Descendants and the blog, How to Party with an Infant. I live in Hawaii. I'm working on another novel and child. More from this author →