There are two types of mommy blogs.

The first type consist of the cool moms who blog about funny kid stories and all aspects of their lives. These women are more than just a uterus and working eggs. They’re people with brains.

I enjoy reading these blogs, and I respect these types of parents. You GO, awesome moms!

Then there’s the second type. The type of mommy blog that I can’t fucking STAND. I call them the “martyr mommy” blogs.

Somewhere in their blog title, tagline, or header graphic is something to the effect of “The daily stresses of an overworked and overtired mommy-wommy!” Their entire identity is wrapped up in one aspect of their life: the fact they reproduced. They have globbed onto the fact that their eggs work and have made it the only basis of their self-worth. So that’s all they blog about. Ever. And most of the mommy martyr bloggers consider themselves to be the first person to reproduce ever, because surely no one knows of the stress and strain they go through every day! NO ONE has ever worked as hard as they do, even other parents! To hear them tell it, every day is stress, stress, stress and they are frazzled! They are so busy, they don’t know whether they’re coming or going! They’re losing their minds!

You could have the most stressful job on the planet. You could dismantle bombs for a living as your full-time job, perform kidney transplants for orphans on the weekends, and work a third job at night, but that’s NOTHING compared to the work and stress martyr mom has looking after little Johnny.

Every day they sacrifice tirelessly for their husband and children, and by God they’re not going to let you forget about it for a second! But then, at the very last minute, their child gives them a kiss or looks like an angel while sleeping, and it’s moments like those that make all of the mommy martyrs’ saintly sacrifices worth while.

These people only want to talk about their kids and their workload in attending to said kids. They don’t want to talk about their own feelings (unless it’s resentment over being overworked), their hopes and dreams, their hobbies. Their personality or any other aspect of life is unimportant now.

They’re not only doing their kids a favor by raising them (excuse me, these kids didn’t ask to be born), but they’re doing the WORLD a favor because their DNA is so superior that they had the duty to reproduce, and we should all be in awe over their sacrifices, and thankful that their superior genetics are being propagated.

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I knew I shouldn’t have told my mother that I was working evenings at my new job. And that I often wouldn’t be home before 11:30 pm, which means I don’t go to sleep before 1 am.

Yep, you guessed it: The 6:30 am calls have started already.

Really, do you need to call me at 6:30 am from 500 miles away to tell me you found one of my old college notebooks? Eleven years after I graduated?

Aw fuck it I’m pissed! So here’s Moose and Bungee to help ease my mood:

It seems like every pic of Moose that I have is him on the couch. Lazy couch tater!