Amy grew up in the suburbs of Long Island singing Barbara Streisand hits into her hairbrush. When she’s not writing her hilarity fueled parenting memoir as The Outnumbered Mother, she’s a Florida living, butt wiping, soccer team carting, gourmet chef attempting, tennis skirt wearing, non-tennis playing, self-proclaimed bad mamma jamma to 3 sons and a very understanding husband. You can find her talking about booze and diaper blowouts on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
I read my son's phone. All. The. Time. And that's how I discovered that something was very, very wrong.
Being a stay-at-home mom makes me the one constant in their lives all day every day, and it makes my being around more of a non-event.
I’m not lazy, I’m tired. And this exhaustion is brought on, in part, by the production holidays have become at school.
I wasn’t ready for my baby to become the kid who cared more about fitting in than being himself.
Being an unprepared mom dealing with something as disgusting as a 3-year-old sh*tstorm in my semi-new minivan woke the creative genius in me.
There's still this idea that a man can't be masculine and powerful, if he's also compassionate and emotional. I reject that thinking.