Mom Confessions from a Pack of Bad Moms


Last week, the ACMB team was treated to a sneak preview of the movie Bad Moms. I think it’s safe to say that we were laughing so hard that our team realized the importance of Kegels about halfway through the movie. If you don’t mind an F-bomb (or 20), this movie is straight-up too funny. Feeding on the stereotypes of all moms around the country, this movie hit it out of the park with the humor surrounding each category. We’d highly recommend going with a group of girlfriends and then scheduling time for a glass of wine to dissect it afterwards.

So in the spirit of Bad Moms, we’ve asked the Alamo City Moms Blog team to share their “Confessions of a Bad Mom.” Names will not be revealed to protect the innocent. But if you feel moved to join us, share your confessions in the comments below. Bad Moms unite!!!

When my daughter was about 10 months old and crawling, she crawled into my the living room where my husband and I were. We noticed that she was chewing on something, so I fished it out of her mouth. It was kitty litter…wrapped around a piece of poop. Yes, she had been playing, and snacking, in the kitty litter.

When drinking hot chocolate in the winter I’ve told the boys it’s tea so I don’t have to share.

Most recently we found both kids playing in the family room around 7:00 A.M. Neither of us had taken the two-year-old out of his crib, so we asked our five-year-old how he got out. He looked up and barely blinked as he explained, “No problem Mom. I just wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him out like this.”

We had family pictures scheduled for early in the morning when our daughter was two. The photographer pushed them back two hours at the last minute, which put us right in the middle of nap time. Before putting on her picture clothes, we gave her a Dr. Pepper and a chocolate bar just to keep her up for the shoot.

When my oldest was almost a year old, I was trying to leave her in her crib for a bit after waking from nap both to acclimate her and to give me a chance to breathe/shower/make a cocktail. Karma struck when the after-nap silence was longer than usual—because she was playing with her poop, all over the crib.


The above was our present to ourselves at our child’s first birthday party. But personally I think this is more #GeniusMom than #BadMom.

That time our six-year-old was rollerskating and came to us because she fell and hurt her arm. We told her she was fine. “Go skate around the rink at least three more times and then see how it feels.” Yep. It was broken.

My next-door-neighbors knocked on the door to tell me that my son (about age six at the time) was hanging out on their couch. I thought he was in the backyard…

I was with my mom at North Star for Easter Bunny pics when my little was about two months old. I thought I was smart to use my “Mommy Hook” to hold a couple of shopping bags in addition to her diaper bag. It was hooked onto the bar of the stroller. We were on the way out to the car when the weight of it all threw things off balance and the stroller fell toward me. Fortunately, my daughter was strapped into her infant carrier and for her it was simply a change of scenery. I didn’t tell my husband about it for a week.

My daughter sliced her finger open on my Bud Light can when she was six months old.

My son was crying for me to come get him up from his nap early, and I was annoyed he didn’t sleep long, so I turned the monitor off for a while…only to realize he was crying because his leg was stuck in his slats.

I’m going to go with the “my kids aren’t getting along, so I’m going to put them in a t-shirt TOGETHER and make them do chores until they can cooperate.” Total and complete meltdown by Child #1. He just sat down in the kitchen and screamed, while Child #2 tried to encourage him to just do the dishes.

My daughter was almost two. I was pushing her on a tricycle down the driveway (decline)—my foot on the back, my hands on the handlebars. I slipped and tumbled over the bars, she and the tricycle tumbling after. She landed on her tummy, her back shin caught in the back bar of trike. An hour later, in the kitchen, her dad tried to make her “walk to him.” Yep. It was broken. Two weeks later, at Big Bend Lodge, an entire bus of blue-haired ladies and polyester-clad old men were oohing and ahhing at the two-year-old with a plaster cast covering her hip. “Poor thing. How’d you break your leg?” Beaming with pride, she said, “My mama did it!”

There was the time my son picked up something off the ground and put it in his mouth. I rushed to remove it only to find it was gum…already chewed (and now re-chewed by my toddler!).

When my daughter was in the first grade they were asked to draw a picture of what Fiesta means to you and she drew a spot-on margarita! Proud of that kid!

The first time I cut my child’s fingernails (she was two months old) I also cut the tip of her finger just before a pediatrician appointment. She wouldn’t keep her Band-Aid on and kept flinging blood all over herself.


When my daughter was one, I mentioned to my husband that I thought her crib mattress was too high and needed to be lowered. We forgot about it and that night she climbed out and broke her arm. 

I left my razor on the edge of the tub, and my then-three-year-old used it to “shave like Dad.” There was blood, but it looked worse than it really was. Once I was satisfied that he was OK, I realized this was the night before our family photo shoot.

My best friend watched my child from six weeks until she was almost one. I actually commented to her pediatrician that her fingernails just didn’t seem to grow much. My friend told me that she constantly did it for me because her nails were often sharp and she would cut herself. Super attentive mom here!

My number one worst moment was when my daughter went as Tinkerbell for Halloween when she was four. I was getting her dressed in her costume and hoisting her into her tights in the bathroom, a few feet away from the potty. I grabbed her tights and held them at the waist and was kinda shimmying her into them like you would a pillowcase, when she got top heavy and lost her balance, crashing head-first into the potty and hitting her eyebrow bone right on the porcelain. Her eye was swollen up like Rocky in a matter of minutes, and it was 100% my fault. She cried, but I cried harder. She had a black eye for two weeks. I felt AWFUL.

A shopping trip at HEB had taken longer than expected, so my daughter was overdue for nap and therefore pretty fussy. I was loading the groceries into the back of the car and not paying a bit of attention to my shrieking daughter until I turned around and saw her rolling backwards down the parking lot in the cart. The cart was on an incline and got quite a good distance away from me before I realized it.

The time I put my child in the car seat with only a diaper on, accidentally buckled her skin into the buckle, and then yelled at her for throwing a fit… She was yelling due to pain, but who knew?

I left the back door open and my triplets made a run for it. I found three two-year-olds a few houses down playing in someone else’s yard…wearing only diapers.

I was nursing my one-month-old downstairs, and my 19-month-old climbed son upstairs. I went to the bottom of the stairs to call him down, still holding and nursing my daughter. He began throwing a tantrum because he didn’t want me to come up to help him, and he didn’t want to sit and scoot; he wanted to walk down the stairs. I told him I was coming up to get him, but he kept screaming. I was so tired and flustered, and my daughter had started to cry and fuss, so I said, “Fine. Do it yourself.” And then I watched him as he scooted down the first three stairs, stood up to walk down the rest, and tumbled head over feet down the remaining 13 stairs. I thought I saw his neck snap. It was horrible, and I caught him right before he landed on the floor while still holding the baby. He was stunned for two of the most awful seconds of my life before he immediately threw another tantrum.


Brooke graduated high school from right here in San Antonio. After twelve years of living everywhere from Colorado to Greece, London to Atlanta, she and her husband have made San Antonio home and have become parents to their daughter and son. Brooke loves finding undiscovered activities around the city and dragging her kids along! She is a runner, an amateur cook that loves trying out San Antonio’s growing culinary scene and is actively involved in non-profit organizations in San Antonio.