Your mama said whaaaat?

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Ahhhhh the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life: becoming a mom. Second runner up: the most random crap grown women fight about. Instead of coming together in our endeavors, it’s best to partake in mom wars. I didn’t even think these were a real thing until we announced that my husbands sperm had miracled its way into my egg. The opinions and unsolicited advice came rollin on in right along with my morning sickness. Here’s the thing: moms.. and pretty much all moms.. they’ll cut you. If you wanna ask about Susie’s dance class or Jordan’s sniffles just know you’re about to find yourself in a mom war. Here are some tips on how to get yourself involved. You’re welcome.

Step 1: Ask her about her pregnancy. Judge her so hard when you see her pregnant ass drinking coffee. Or WINE. Shoot her a side eye when you realize she didn’t nuke her cold cut sandwich in the microwave for 30 minutes to kill the listeria. Check in to see if she has a birth plan. If she does, remind her that shit does not go according to plan ever and she needs to find Jesus if she’s going to use one of those epidurals to numb the pain. If you don’t feel every last bit of your baby ripping through your vag and cornhole, are you even a mom? You had a WHAT? A c-section… taking the easy way out I see. Pssshh… She didn’t even give birth… she just had major surgery 9 months pregnant after growing an entire human life then had all of her innards lay sprawled across her chest. Way to go Susan. Twins? Must be IVF. Was that like natural…. or? You must be trying for a boy now. You’re not going to give that baby a sibling? For the love of…..

Step 2: Ask about circumcision. Their human has a penis ehhh? Sit your ass down and enjoy. See if they’re going to let their little man child run around with a hooded turtle or if they’re going to cut his peeper off. Make sure to add your two cents. Please know that dads want their kiddos peni to look just like theirs so… cause that’s not weird. Also make sure to forget about any religious beliefs or anything remotely rational when you go here. That’s YOUR penis. You tell them sister.

Step 3: See if she stays at home. If she does please remember that she has no goals or aspirations in life. This chick caters to her partner at all hours of the day and tends to the needs of her crotchfruit on demand. She basically can’t really think for herself. What a shame. She enjoys eating Doritos alone. If you run into one of *those* working moms, just know that they are definitely high on adderall. They probably don’t even like their kids that much thats why they go to work, right? They run out of the house as fast as they can in the morning and use their nanny extensively. Why even have kids? Work at home mom: fuggetaboutit. She’s just faking or some shit and we all know damn well no work is getting done. Call her manager like yesterday.

Step 4: Now its time to find out how that monster is gonna feed her baby. Are you going to breastfeed? No? Well then. May as well feed that fresh bundle a bottle of glass shards dirty witch. WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN. Ohhhh wait you’re STILL nursing? Thats cool how long do you plan on doing that for? Til high school? You must be one of *those* women who just loves the attention. Cause there’s nothing sexier than a ginormous nat geo tittie leaking milk from its sad, sad nipples. This is how I lure in your husband, my flapjack bewbs and a toddler slapping me across the face. S-e-x-u-a-l AF. Breast VS formula: seriously… WOOF. This was the first time really beat myself up. My oldest was breastfed for a few weeks and then switched to formula, I thought I was failing at life. Then I nursed our middle until she was 2, I felt like I was failing at life. And THEN I let our third eat leftover spaghettios off the floor and realized I was finally #winningggggg

Step 5: Want to actually have no friends? Vaccines. All the vaccines. Don’t even bother with a “Do y’all get the flu shot pregnant?” You gotta come in HOT. Be like I heard you can catch rabies from that and then stare into her soul. Make that mother panic. Tell her about your vaccine schedule and how little Connor is getting an A+ in pre-k for scratching his ass extra good. Whisper hepatitis B. Mosey around the whooping cough and WHAM. Give your professional opinion right meow. Any of them will do. Flu, Tdap, pick your poison. I don’t need a medical degree to tell you that shit is about to blow up in your face.

Step 6: Find out where her beloved twatwaffle sleeps. First of all, if you cosleep or bed share, shame on you. On what planet does a mother like to be next to her child the entire night? Like you know you can’t go to college with them…right Carol? It’s time to teach that newborn some independence. Kick that MFer out STAT. Once you’ve placed your baby in their own bed, just know you’re a selfish monster who likes alone time more than you do your kids. How dare you.

Step 7: Breathe. Don’t make any sudden movements. Absolutely no eye contact or they’re gonna start asking some shit. Like you know Barbara who always shows up with her organic goldfish is looking at you sideways when you start to plow through your diaper bag and lie that you must’ve forgotten your organic goldfish at home. Psyyyychhh. I didn’t forget shit at home. The truth is I actually forgot toddlers eat like drunk frat guys and now my kid is going to steal your kids snacks while I sit back and judge myself k? Thanks.

Step 8: Figure out how she likes to unwind then JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS. IMMEDIATELY. Does she drink wine? What a lush. Did you say every night? She smokes whaaaaaaat?! Ermegawd… she’s a pothead?! The audacity. Wait she doesn’t even drink or eat delish edibles? Then she def can’t hang anywhere near me or my heathens because something’s clearly wrong with her. Not even a low dose of Xanax? Like what do you do then, yoga? I heard she takes Zoloft too. And farts rainbows out her ass. Get it together Becky.

Step 9: Chest clips. Gently remind her how to use a car seat properly to keep her kiddo safe. Now you’re an asshole. Boom. Fireworks.

Step 10: Stop giving a fuck. I’m positive I’m missing a thousand things which will probably make this a provocative mom post because hey that lady didn’t even mention wearing her baby or her lame MIL or attached parenting or gender stereotypes. And guess what? I don’t care. Here’s how to make some legit friends: remember y’all are in the same boat. Laugh about this messy shit show together because life is too short. Your kids are disgusting just like hers and we all do this parenting thing a little different which is why we’re all pretty cool. Shoot her a smile, lend her an ear, and help a girl out. Learn from each other and be kind.  At the end of the day just remember: happy, healthy, alive and loved is what matters. Go make some mama friends, it takes a village. What are the most ridiculous mom wars you’ve encountered?!

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