Tamarah Rockwood

My reality has to include social anxiety, because I have had social anxiety for as long as I can remember. School programs, football stadiums, parades, large parties . . . hell, even small parties. I would rather not. To the point that I will simply not attend. Not because I can’t handle it; I can. I just don’t enjoy the crowds, and I don’t enjoy my reaction to the crowds. I get bitchy and impatient, mostly with myself, and I actually don’t like being bitchy and impatient.

Yet, there is life beyond just t-shirt and jeans. There is more to an ensemble than denim and scarves.

The Mom Butt is a little wider, a little flatter and a little longer than the butts on the totally dedicated and amazing women on Pinterest (mad props to them, seriously).

I know sending kids to school is the most normal thing on earth. I know they are going to do great, and I know they are going to flourish. And I know it is only twice a week, and I am still the teacher the rest of the time.

The last episode of “MyCoffeePot & Me” aired 2 years ago when I woke up to an unresponsive pot.

You are being a dick if you intentionally create drama in a friendly conversation. You argue about everything from politics, to career choices, to shoe choices, to the quality of people around you to the quality of the pizza you ordered. No one cares about your opinions regarding pepperoncinis on pizza.

The truth is, my kids are not going to grow a deeper character thanks to perfect floors. Granted, it will make life easier for me, no doubt: there are few things that make my stomach drop than walking into a room that I just cleaned, and seeing a spoonful of peanut butter just sitting on the floor (I have an accomplished toddler). Peanut butter on the floor, or on the counter, or on the tablecloth — or anywhere other than on a piece of bread — is frustrating.

"Impostor Syndrome is the unwanted caboose on the train of motherhood. It is the trailing thoughts that give you the absurd ideas that you are a fraud."

The thing is, the more I watch this show, and the more I think back to the endless years in Start Up culture that we experienced, the more I keep thinking: “This is way too similar to parenting.”

What I am not saying: "I am now going to take this opportunity to rub in your face what an inadequate parent you are for not sacrificing your entire life to homeschool your children, who you obviously don't love."