Confessions of a Scary Mommy: She’s Not So Scary After All

I really wonder if people in Jill Smokler’s inner circle call her Jill or if they call her Scary Mommy. It’s got to be the catchiest blog name ever that emerged at a time when “mommy blogs” {cringe} were all the rage.

(Wait – are they still all the rage? Let me know because I can totally spew out more mommy stories.)

I met Jill, aka Scary Mommy, when I was still in a state of blog oblivion. I attended a Bloggy Boot Camp in Baltimore, her hometown. I only knew she was a big deal because my friend Sue went gaga over her and wanted me to take a picture of them together.

I remember feeling a bit awkward that Sue wanted the picture and I was simply the picture taker. I never said, “OMG, me too!!!” I like to think Jill thought I was just playing it cool, like when you meet a celebrity but act nonchalant and pretend like they are just regular people.

But back to Scary Mommy, er, Jill.

A while back, she started something on her blog called “Scary Mommy Confessions.” In a nutshell, it’s a completely anonymous confessional where you’ll find presumably other mommies confessing things ranging anywhere from letting their babies sit in a poopy diaper too long to how they sometimes wear their own diapers and poop in them.

Oh yes. There is some weird shizz on there. Even weirder is the ability for anonymous readers to add a Like, Hug, or an OMG, Me Too! to the confession. Yeah, those weird confessors? Apparently there are quite a few of them out there.

The Confessional is definitely a rabbit hole that can have you spending hours pouring through wondering who these people are. I know because I’ve done it. I even showed my husband and he said, “You know, this would make a fantastic book.”

I’m pretty sure Jill knew that all along.

Shortly before her Confessions of a Scary Mommy book hit the market, she contacted me and asked if I wanted an advanced copy of the book. I actually received what’s called a galley. It’s an almost-ready-for-bookstores copy. It doesn’t have the official binding but it is signed by Jill. I’m hanging on to it because I’m pretty sure it will fetch a pretty penny on eBay someday.

But the book itself…

I expected it to be a book of confessions. An anthology of brain dumps from her readers. And I will admit that when I received the book, I immediately flipped through and read the beginning of each chapter that highlights many of the confessions. (I’m relieved to say none of my anonymous confessions made it into the book.)

But the book is filled with a lot more substance. It’s a chronological recount of Jill’s journey to motherhood peppered with all the humor, sarcasm, and salty language that we have all come to love from her. She weaves a story around the confessions letting us know she gets us. She relates (except for those weird confessions). And she’s honest about motherhood. So honest, in fact, I remember reading it thinking, Jill – where were you when I first became a mom? You… complete me.

While I was never a fashionista with an unexpected push into motherhood, I was a career women that suddenly found herself saying, OMG, what happened to my life? In a good way. Mostly.

For me, I loved the book because I learned more about Jill, felt a kindred sisterhood with her, and was ultimately entertained. I’m still scratching my head at some of those confessions though.

Note: She also has great taste in names. She has a 4 year old son named Evan. My Evan is 5 years old so I like to think I’m the trendsetter on that one.

Now, go out and buy her book. It’s in stores and probably electronic places too. Because she’s one of us and she’s really not that scary after all.

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