There's no escaping the "sanctimommies." Not even the sanctimommy within! In this week's episode of The Kristen Chase Show, Kristen sits down with Ilana Wiles of MommyShorts to talk about judgy moms. Ilana is a new-ish mom to a 2-year-old girl, and she admits she can be a little sensitive about judgement from other moms.

Kristen, on the other hand, has had a few years to get used to the sanctimommies. They don't really bother her anymore. In fact, she wonders, Why do we care so much about what other moms think?

That dumb commercial "having a baby changes everything" drives me bonkers every time it flashes onto my television screen, causing me to scream (at least, in my head), "NO SHIT SHERLOCK!" 

There were a lot of things I expected going into the parenting gig -- poopy diapers, jars of creepily-colored baby food, sleepless nights. But there are a select few things I'd never, EVER stopped to consider before popping three kids out of my delicate lady-bits.

Here they are.

Now, I know -- the woman is clearly a saint. She adopts kids from around the world. She works tirelessly to bring to light all of the horrible monstrosities that occur around the world. Honestly, we should just rename her "Mother Teresa" and be done with it all.

I want so badly to love her, and yet...I can't.

Here's why.

Ok, so CafeMom Studios just launched this awesome new show called Coffee Shop Confessions, and I'm already hooked. And I'm not saying that because it's hosted by Andrew Shue (who can resist Billy from Melrose Place?).

I'm loving the concept because there's really nothing better than hearing other moms say things out loud that you feel inside, but may not be willing to admit. Every Friday, the show will feature one anonymous confession from a real mom, which will then be discussed by the mom panel -- Alex McCord from Real Housewives of New York, Timberly Whitfield, and Julia Knight.

Episode 1 premiered today, and the confession featured was a real doozie. One mom admitted that while she adores her kids, she also loves going away alone on business trips to indulge in a little bit of "me" time to relax and unwind. Can I get a huge Amen?

There's no end to the competition of parenthood. The way some people treat parenting, it's an extreme cage match. Not me, though. Through parenting special needs kids to birthing a child with a nearly-always-fatal birth defect, I've learned that parenting, like anything else, should be a live and let live.

I stopped judging people for sport eight -- or so -- years ago. It just seems so pointless to spend my precious time thinking about other people and how much better I am than they are. I'd rather sit around watching dancing cat videos than get all "Parenting: U R Doing It Wrong."

So I've let myself go -- and now I am one of those "bad parents." Here are some of the things I do:

Last week, I spent 10 minutes looking for the phone while actually on the phone. Sadly, this type of thing is far from unique. I swear, I had a brain ... once. Now? I have Mommy Brain. Here are some symptoms my friends suffer, as well. Sound familiar?

My 3-year-old daughter is convinced she's royalty. I'm not sure that "princess" would be her choice though -- she'd probably prefer to be known as "king," which only means that she's my daughter. Why be a lowly princess when you can rule the world?

*happy maternal sigh*

Kids, man.

The thing I'm not into, though, is all these kids' activities. When I was a kid, my "activities" included my own mother booting me outside, the click of the lock behind me my only cue that it was time to make my own fun. So I did.

But now? Every parent I know is all, "dance class this" and "soccer practice that." And you know what? I hate it. 

Here's why.

I've written about the fact that I'm not the biggest fan of children other than my own before.

Of course, there are some kids I truly do enjoy, I'm just not one of those women who universally loves all kids. Or, many kids. OK, most.

As I read through my Confessional last week, I realized that I'm far from alone in my feelings. Of course, though, these women couldn't possibly be talking about my precious children. It must be the other ones, the ones that I can't stand, too.