The Book

The Mother of All Meltdowns

Every mother, at some point, inevitably becomes her own worst enemy. In a millisecond, her halo crumbles and she has a moment so crazed it is forever known as the one…The Mother of All Meltdowns.

The following anthology was written by women who have had their moments. Together we have experienced the anguish and frustration of the adult-sized tantrum. We have shed the tears, dropped to our knees in agony, and asked the age-old question, “Why me?” From poop-decorated rooms to having our liquid gold scrutinized and confiscated by TSA, we’re not afraid to share our collection of thirty tell-all stories. We are survivalists and know that within every meltdown there is a silver lining.

Order or download your copy today! And let us know what you think!

Publisher: MommiFried Press

What’s in the book?

Thirty Tell-All Stories

Some of today’s hottest bloggers bare all (well, not quite like that) in this eye-opening, mind-blowing anthology. Be prepared to laugh, cry, and have your mouth fall open in disbelief. At times, we are so far from angelic, we make Attila the Hun look like Mother Teresa.

Tips on How to Survive a Meltdown

Mommy meltdowns can run from a mild, fist-clenching moment all the way to epic, crying, screaming, hair pulling (yours, not theirs), only-seen-on-reality-TV moments. Thankfully, there are ways to cope. And not all of them involve alcohol.

The Most Epic Celebrity Meltdowns

This book is chock full of mothering meltdowns that, at the time, probably seemed monumental. We can take comfort, however, in the knowledge that even celebrity moms have meltdowns. Despite their fame, fortune, and ability to hire unlimited nannies and assistants, it seems they frequently misstep just like the rest of us.

And So Much More!

Nosy strangers, pooping in a busy public rest room with the door wide open (and not knowing it), chasing toddlers off of rooftops…it’s all in The Mother of All Meltdowns. Get your copy today!

What causes our meltdowns?

Our Precious Children 99.9%
The Non-Stop Demands of Motherhood 90%
Poop, Pee & Puke (Seriously) 75%
Pregnancy 60%

Chapters: A Sneak Peek!

The Mother of All Meltdowns includes a variety of stories from some of today’s hottest bloggers. The chapter titles really say it all! Take a look at some of what’s included…

Goldilocks to Dreaded Locks

As I was washing Belle’s hair, something seemed strange but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Later, as I was brushing her wet hair, I pulled the comb through her bangs and again, something didn’t seem right. Then it hit me…She had no bangs! The whole middle section of her bangs was gone!

Belle had the most beautiful hair. It was long, blond, and soft. She had cascading curls with full bangs. It was the hair I had always wanted; hair that she would let me put up in different styles constantly. People were always telling her how pretty her hair was. Once a woman had told me that Belle’s hair looked like “an angel itself kissed her”. Now all that was left of the front of her hair was a jagged tuft. To say I handled myself well would be a complete and utter lie. I believe what actually happened was this…

As Poop Would Have It

As I walked into the living room, I noticed the distinct smell of poop. I called out to my son, “Did you poo-poo?” All I heard was giggling. Before I could register that something was up, I felt the wet spot and the squish. I prayed that it wasn’t what it felt like, and that the giggling that I heard in the distance was not my son taking pride in what he had done. As I picked up my foot and saw the poop dripping off, I knew that things were going downhill.

I walked further into the living room to find that the poop on the floor and on my foot were the least of my concerns. The poop was all over the carpet, the TV console, and the sofa, and my son was sitting behind the sofa trying to get poop off of his little Big Wheel ride-on. He was giggling uncontrollably, and I just completely broke down. I sat on the floor, possibly right into the poop I had just stepped in, and cried.

Welcome to Lego Stress Land

Then I picked it up. Why? Why? Why? OH, WHY ON EARTH WOULD I PICK IT UP? I still ask myself that. I should have known better than to touch it. In the same way that promiscuous teens in horror movies should know better than to go wandering into creepy houses…at night…alone. But I’d wanted to take a closer look; to admire my son’s handiwork. And, of course, you can see where this is going.

Almost instantly, a piece fell out of the middle. Oops. I tried shoving it back. It wouldn’t connect. That wasn’t good. I tried to force it into place. No go. Crap. It fit before, why wouldn’t it fit now? As I struggled, more pieces came off in my hands. Shit! Oh, this really, really wasn’t good. I started to panic as Fletcher, suddenly at my side, realized his once-whole Lego bomber was falling to pieces in my hands.

I’m Not Pregnant, I’m Fat

We rode in silence to the mall, but once I got a little food in me I started feeling less embarrassed and angrier. It’s like each delicious bite of my burrito was turning all of those negative thoughts into rage. I mean honestly, what woman makes a pregnancy comment to another woman like that? That’s like Girl 101. Unless a woman explicitly tells you that she’s pregnant or you physically see the baby coming out of her, you keep your mouth shut. Everybody knows that. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Who was this woman to make me feel bad about myself? Why does society expect women to bounce back into fighting shape after having a baby? Because the latest celebrity did? Maybe I don’t go for regular runs, because I’d rather take a nap after pacing the floors with a crying baby all night. Maybe I pick up fast food more than I should because I’d rather give my oldest daughter a little one-on-one attention than cooking in the kitchen.

I had just reached my mental breaking point and I could feel my blood begin to boil. I was on the brink of a full-fledged mommy meltdown.

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