For you and fellow moms: “I Want My Epidural Back” is a great laugh for Mother’s Day

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i want my epidural backThis week, I’m looking at fun books that celebrate motherhood in time for “Mother’s Day.” Find my reviews of more serious books at austin360.com/raisingaustin.

Baby Sideburns (Karen Alpert) is back with her book “I Want My Epidural Back: Adventures in Mediocre Parenting,” ($19.99, William Morrow). You will laugh out loud because she writes the things that you’ve long thought but were too scared to say. And yes, there’s much cussing to go with it, which is how many of us get through motherhood, right? We just do it under our breath.

Chapters include titles like “You might be a mediocre mom if …”; “(Expletive) I do that I know I shouldn’t do”; “Twenty-eight ways being a mom is like being in prison”; “Yo douchebags who constantly brag on Facebook, this chapter’s for you”; “Every. F’ing. Night.”; “Bedtime is for succcckers”; “All in favor of feeding rat poison to Chuck E. Cheese, say aye!!”; and “I’d totally kick your (expletive) if my toenails weren’t still drying.”

Alpert’s chapters are short and to the point, so you can pick up a chapter at a time in between changing diapers and chasing toddlers. She validates all the things you’re probably feeling about your children, love included.

One of our favorite parts is her list that starts the book.

You might be a mediocre mom, if …

You can hear the word “Mommy” 16 times before reacting.

You know the frozen pizza goes in at 400*F for 19 to 22 minutes without looking at the instructions.

You think pretty much anything your kid’s wearing is acceptable as long as it covers the genitals.

You know the best organic cleaning fluid is saliva.

You can gather lunch for your children from the contents of your car floor.

You make the kids sleep in their clothes if you’re going somewhere early the next morning.

You would take your coffee intravenously if it were an option. And your vodka.

You find yourself sitting at the PTO meeting wondering WTF you’ve gotten yourself into.

You can stealthily bury the kids’ artwork in the trash can while they are sitting in the same room.

You do the laundry in cold water because who the hell has time to separate whites from colors?

You sometimes eat Cheerios that fall out of your bra when you get undressed at night because it’s easier than walking allll the way to the trash can.

You lie to your children’s dentist every 6 months, 12 months, 18 months.

You’ve failed miserably at doing at least one Pintrest project.

You haven’t gotten a single photo developed in years.

You accidentally wear your slippers out of the house and realize it when you’re in the garage but don’t go back inside to change them because who gives a (expletive).

You don’t have time to take showers every day (or even every other day sometimes) and just use baby wipes on the stinky parts.

You use your microwave more than your oven.

You don’t have a 5-second rule. You have a 5,000-second rule.

You have to stack dirty dishes next to the sink because it’s already overflowing with dirty dishes.

You can pull your hair into a ponytail without a ponytail holder because it’s so greasy.

You write stuff on your to-do list that you’ve already done so you feel productive.

You cook three-course dinners, but only because no one in your family will eat the same thing.

You couldn’t braid your daughter’s hair to save your life, but you can totally braid your leg hair.

You have to ask if your kids can get a different Happy Meal toy because they already have that one.

You kick (expletive) at being a parent even though some people think you don’t. And if you’re one of those people, F off and die. No wait, don’t die. That’s totally mean. Just F off.


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