After my kids were done with breakfast they placed their half-eaten bowls of cereal on the counter and there they sat until I made them lunch. I tidied up eventually, though, and it's not like anyone was there to see it. Who cares?

Why would I not wear my stretch pants? Who am I trying to impress with a bra? It's sort of putting on airs, in my opinion. Not sorry.

I'm a work-from-home mom. That means that I am fortunate enough to be home with my kids and have a professional life. So the most common phrase you will hear in my house is "I can't, mommy's working." It's a solid six to eight hours a day of saying no and rejecting my children. But even though I'll sometimes feel bad (mixed with a healthy dollop of annoyance), I'm not sorry about it. The good things I get from my work — personal enjoyment, the opportunity to have my children see me work, and, yeah, money — far outweigh the bad.

Again, I'm a work-from-home mom. There's only so much I can do some days, people. I'm not going to apologize for not being born with six extra arms.

The general consensus is that you should only have four cups of coffee (or their equivalent) but, meh. I'm a rebel. Also, whatever cabal of eggheads came to that conclusion it's clear not one of them was a parent.

Moms Who Look At Their Phones Instead Of Their Children™ is basically a Disney villain in the eyes of busybody pearl clutchers. Yes, sometimes I gaze at my children in adoring awe as they romp with their friends, and sometimes they're not very awe-inspiring.

Admit it pearl clutchers, yours aren't either.

I owe no one the removal of my body hair. It's hair. Most of us are naturally covered in the stuff to varying degrees. I'm not going to act like I'm failing as a woman because I haven't taken a razor to my pits in a week.

It's not my fault that my children take 47 years to get in and out of the car. I mean, seriously, my daughter will just stand there in the door of our sedan for, like, a solid minute. If that's how you're going to play it you're going to miss the warm up. That's not my fault.

Good luck, friends, but I don't need oils, leggings, kitchen gadgets, skincare products, nail art, household cleaning products, vitamin supplements, or makeup. I love you, I do not love buying things at a mark-up that promotes multi-level marketing/pyramid selling.

Should I have cleaned it today, just like I said I would for the past month? Yes. But, alas, it didn't happen. It would have been nice, sure, but I'm not going to be too bothered that I didn't accomplish a big project on top of everything else I did today. I did, however, succeed in making that future big project just a little bit bigger.

It'll probably sit there tomorrow, too, right next to the basket of clean unfolded laundry and the other basket of clean, folded laundry that I just haven't had the energy to put away yet.

Plus, what's wrong with just picking it out of a basket?

Were they unhappy with each other for a while? Yes. Was it loud? Oh God yes. But did they eventually get over it? Yup. Are they now that much more experienced in the fine and often forgotten art of collaborative problem solving and compromise? You betcha. This is not a cause for apology. This is a mom win on every level possible.

Whatever. It's a perfectly natural process. Stop mold-shaming the food. All this means is that I buy goods that aren't pumped too full of preservatives, right? Kudos, me.

As with my body hair, I do not owe anyone a particular jean size. You will all take my ass whatever size it is and appreciate the courtesy of it showing up in the first place.

"Oh, my children just love kale and radishes and peppers," says your one friend Heather. "If your kids don't like these things it's because you give them crap to eat. Offer them healthy, nutritious foods and that's what they'll like."

Oh really? That's all I have to do, Amber? Give them healthy food? OMG, I'd never thought of that. Thank you so much! I bask in your smug wisdom.

Listen, Becky, I've been offering my kids a variety of healthy foods their entire lives. While the 6-year-old is finally coming around on a few of the less exotic vegetables (carrots, sweet peas) but on the whole they don't care for vegetables. I don't apologize. I don't control their taste buds.

He just doesn't stop. Ever. I don't know how he doesn't pass out for lack of breath, because I didn't notice him inhaling once. And this is every single day.

I don't care about mining or explosives, dude!

No disrespect to the PTA. In fact, tremendous respect for the PTA! They do a lot of important work! But I know me, and this is not my scene. I'll volunteer in classrooms. I'll even help out at PTA events when I can. But I am not a person who is suited to membership in the PTA.

Whatever, it looks clean. (Pro-tip: get a rug with a busy pattern.)

The dishes, the closet, the laundry, the carpets: they all could have been done. And, technically, yes, I had the time. But what's the point of having kids if you're not going to enjoy them for a bit? I'm going to remember the tea party. I'm not going to remember the mess, and if I do I'm not going to feel especially awful about it.

That's on them, to be honest. It's not like they don't know where the toy boxes are. They could put those damn toys back if they wanted to.

I don't know how many different ways I can say this: I. Do. Not. Have. To. Look. Any. Particular. Way. Not at home with my kids, not out in public, and not on social media.

I'd say, "Excuse the lack of makeup" but, girl, it's not a requirement. In fact, society owes us an apology for convincing the majority of us that we need it.

Pizza is delicious, so what's to apologize for? Besides, it was movie night! That's the night the family has a living room picnic while watching a movie as a special treat. Not sorry for that, either.

We were tired. Besides, my feet were in his lap, so there was some physical contact. That's spousal bonding, right? Totally counts. Not sorry.

Sometimes my children are jerks and deserve to be snapped at. Sometimes I mess up and I lose my cool when I should show patience. It's not that I feel good about snapping at them, and when I've super screwed up I do apologize to them. But I'm not going to apologize for the fact that it happens sometimes.

Every action has its equal opposite reaction. Just as there are the parents who put forth a picture-perfect life on social media or at their coffee klatches, so too are their moms who go pretty far in the other direction and only highlight the crappy stuff. Don't get me wrong: parenthood is full of crappy stuff, including actual human crap, but it's also amazing in a way that is unlike all the other amazing stuff the world has to offer. I'm not going to diminish my genuine joy because I'm worried it looks like I'm being fake. Sorry not sorry, but this mom thing is pretty cool.