Month: April 2025

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An Ode to Imperfect Parenting

Potty Mouth Panda

Listen up, you beautiful disaster of a mother. Put down that lukewarm coffee (or light that joint) and let’s have a real talk about this parenting circus we call life. I’m not here with bullet points and life hacks – I’m here to tell you why your chaos is actually genius.

Chapter 1: In Defense of Screen Time
The other day, my 10-year-old taught me something revolutionary: “Mom, when you let us watch YouTube, you’re actually supporting our independent learning.” Damn right, kiddo. While Karen down the street is hand-making organic playdough, my kids are becoming tech geniuses who can troubleshoot our WiFi. That’s a life skill, baby.

Chapter 2: The Art of Selective Blindness
Parenting experts will tell you to “be present.” I call bullshit. The real pro move is knowing when to look the other way. Your kid eating cereal off the floor? That’s building their immune system. The 14-year-old wearing the same hoodie for a week? Fashion statement. The pile of laundry that’s been “fermenting” in the corner? Modern art installation.

A Moment of Real Talk
Last Tuesday, I served my kids leftover Halloween candy for breakfast. Not my finest moment? Maybe. But here’s what happened: they were thrilled, I got 20 extra minutes of sleep, and absolutely no one died. Sometimes survival looks like questionable nutrition choices – and that’s okay.

The Great Homework Conspiracy
Nothing exposes the farce of modern parenting like 4th grade math. When my kid asked for help with his “new math” worksheet, we stared at it together in mutual confusion before reaching an unspoken agreement: some problems are meant to remain unsolved. Like why schools expect parents to remember long division after 20 years.

Bedtime: A Social Construct
They say consistency is key. I say flexibility is survival. Some nights we stick to the routine. Other nights? The kids are still up at 10PM watching TikToks while I’m in my room pretending not to hear them because I’ve reached my daily word quota. Balance.

Final Confession:
I once told my kids the park was closed because I couldn’t handle small talk with the perfect moms. We stayed home eating Pop-Tarts and watching cartoons instead. Best parenting decision I made all week.

The Truth No One Tells You:
Parenting isn’t about doing everything right. It’s about doing what works – for YOUR family, on THIS day. So the next time you feel guilty about your “shortcuts,” remember: you’re not lazy, you’re efficient. You’re not neglectful, you’re teaching independence. You’re not failing – you’re rewriting the rulebook.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check if today is a “homework is optional” kind of night. Maybe we’ll all just go to bed early and try again tomorrow. Or not. We’ll see how the edibles hit.

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I READ THOSE ‘PERFECT MOM’ BLOGS SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO (SPOILER: THEY’RE FULL OF SHIT)

Potty Mouth Panda

Listen up, you beautiful disaster of a parent. We’ve all fallen down the rabbit hole of those picture-perfect mommy blogs at 2 AM, desperately searching for answers while simultaneously questioning every life choice that led us to parenthood. The ones with the crisp white backgrounds, artfully messy buns, and children who apparently never smear peanut butter on walls. Well, I’ve taken one for the team and waded through this sea of bullshit so you don’t have to. Spoiler alert: 90% of it is completely un-fucking-realistic. So put down that organic chia pudding (who are we kidding, it’s cold pizza) and let’s drag these ‘perfect parenting’ myths into the harsh light of day…

1. TEENAGERS WILL RESPECT YOU IF YOU ‘COMMUNICATE EFFECTIVELY‘

The Fantasy: “Parenting teens is all about open dialogue and mutual respect!”
The Reality: My 14-year-old looks at me like I’m speaking fucking Klingon when I ask them to take out the trash. Last week, they sighed so dramatically I felt it in my goddamn soul.
Why It’s Bullshit: These bloggers either have Stepford teens or are lying through their veneers. Real teens communicate in grunts, eye rolls, and TikTok sounds.
Try This Instead: Bribery works at any age. Offer DoorDash money or extra WiFi time. Pick your fucking battles – if they’re not setting anything on fire, it’s a win.

2. KIDS THIS AGE LOVE FAMILY GAME NIGHT!

The Fantasy: “Unplug and bond over board games! Memories await!”
The Reality: My 10-year-old cheats at Uno, the 8-year-old cries when they lose, and the teen is physically allergic to fun that doesn’t involve a screen. Last game night ended with someone flipping the goddamn Monopoly board.
Why It’s Bullshit: Forced family fun is a war crime. These bloggers have clearly never met actual children.
Try This Instead: Stick to low-stakes activities like ‘who can stay quiet the longest’ (prize: your fucking sanity). Or just put on a movie and pretend you’re bonding.

3. YOUR TWEEN WILL OPEN UP IF YOU JUST CREATE A ‘SAFE SPACE’

The Fantasy: “Heart-to-heart talks over artisanal hot cocoa build trust!”
The Reality: My tween answers “How was school?” with “Fine.” and “What’s wrong?” with “Nothing.” The most I get is a slammed door and a playlist full of songs I “wouldn’t understand.”
Why It’s Bullshit: Tweens are emotionally constipated by design. These bloggers are probably getting paid by Big Hot Cocoa.
Try This Instead: Stealth parenting tactics:

  • Get intel while driving (they’re trapped and can’t escape)
  • Communicate via memes (speak their goddamn language)
  • Bribe with fucking snacks (always works)

4. ORGANIZED SPORTS BUILD CHARACTER

The Fantasy: “Team sports teach discipline and teamwork!”
The Reality: My kid’s basketball team didn’t make a basket for half the fucking season. The coach looks dead inside, and half the parents are secretly scrolling their phones.
Why It’s Bullshit: Unless “character” means “ability to tolerate other people’s crotch goblins for 2 hours,” this is a scam.
Try This Instead: Lower your goddamn expectations. If they burn energy and you get to gossip with other moms, it’s a success. Bonus points if you remember to bring snacks.

5. LIMIT SCREEN TIME FOR HEALTHY DEVELOPMENT

The Fantasy: “No more than 1 hour of screens per day!”
The Reality: My kids’ screen time is longer than my last relationship. The 7-year-old can navigate YouTube better than I can navigate my own fucking life.
Why It’s Bullshit: We’re in a pandemic of parenting. Screens are the modern village.
Try This Instead: The ‘screen time hierarchy of needs:

  1. Are they alive?
  2. Are they your problem right now?
  3. Have they moved in the last hour?
    If yes to all, you’re fucking winning.

6. HOMEWORK IS A PRIVILEGE

The Fantasy: “Foster a love of learning with hands-on projects!”
The Reality: My 4th grader’s math homework requires me to relearn fractions. The teen waits until 10 PM to announce they need poster board for a project due fucking tomorrow.
Why It’s Bullshit: Homework is a conspiracy by Big School Supply to break parents.
Try This Instead: Outsource to YouTube tutorials. Bribe with candy. Cry in the shower. Repeat.

7. THEY’LL HELP WITH CHORES IF YOU MAKE IT FUN

The Fantasy: “Turn cleaning into a game!”
The Reality: My kids treat chores like I’ve asked them to scrub the floors with their toothbrushes. The teen acts like taking out the trash is a violation of the fucking Geneva Convention.
Why It’s Bullshit: No one has ever had fun cleaning a toilet.
Try This Instead: The ‘minimum wage’ approach: Pay them just enough to do the bare minimum. Or threaten to take the WiFi password. War is hell, motherfuckers.

Next time you see some ‘perfect parenting’ bullshit, remember: those bloggers probably have a live-in nanny, a personal chef, and teens who’ve been replaced by pod people. Meanwhile, you’re over here herding your feral pack through another day of eye rolls, forgotten permission slips, and why the fuck is there toothpaste on the ceiling? And that? That’s real goddamn parenting.

POLL TIME: Which bullshit ‘advice’ pisses you off the most? Drop it in the comments—let’s rage-laugh together.😈

Real-AF Recipes

Real AF Recipe: Crispy Parmesan Chicken Tenders (AKA “How to trick your little shits into eating something that isn’t fucking cereal”)

Potty Mouth Panda

Listen up, you beautiful disaster of a human. If you’re reading this, it means you’ve reached that special stage of parenting where you’re willing to cook actual protein but refuse to do more than the absolute bare fucking minimum. I see you. I am you. And this recipe? It’s our golden ticket to looking like we’ve got our shit together while secretly putting in negative effort.

WHY THIS RECIPE SLAYS:
Because chicken tenders are the universal language of “please just eat something besides god damn goldfish”, and these ones come with a secret weapon: enough Parmesan to disguise the fact that they’re technically real food. Plus, we’re roasting veggies alongside because balance or what the fuck ever.

📝 INGREDIENTS: THE SHOPPING LIST OF BROKEN DREAMS

For the Chicken (The Main Event):

  • 2 lbs chicken tenders (or breasts cut into strips if you’re feeling fancy)
  • 1 cup panko breadcrumbs (or crushed cornflakes if you’re ghetto gourmet)
  • ½ cup grated Parmesan (the cheap, shelf-stable kind is perfect)
  • 2 eggs (beaten like they owe you money)

Seasoning Blend (The Flavor Savior):

  • 1 tsp garlic powder (because peeling actual garlic is for suckers)
  • 1 tsp Italian seasoning (or just oregano if that’s all you’ve got)
  • ½ tsp salt (or to taste, if you’re one of those people who measures things with your heart)

For the Sides (The Vegetable Illusion):

  • 1 lb green beans (fresh or frozen – we don’t judge)
  • 2 medium sweet potatoes (cut into wedges or buy pre-cut because time is money)
  • 2 tbsp olive oil (or whatever oil won’t make your smoke alarm scream)

👩‍🍳 DIRECTIONS (AKA “HOW TO NOT FUCK IT UP”)

1️⃣ PREHEAT & PREP (THE MOST BORING STEP):

  • Crank that oven to 425°F.
  • Line two baking sheets with parchment (or don’t, and live your reckless life).

2️⃣ CRUST THAT CHICKEN (THE FUN PART):

  • In a bowl, mix panko, Parmesan, and seasoning blend.
  • Dip each tender in the beaten eggs, then roll in the crumb mix like it’s a TikTok trend.
  • Lay them on a baking sheet like they’re sunbathing.

3️⃣ ROAST THOSE VEGGIES (THE “HEALTHY” PART):

  • Toss green beans and sweet potato wedges with olive oil and a pinch of salt.
  • Spread them on the second baking sheet (crowding is against the rules).

4️⃣ BAKE & FLIP (THE “DON’T FORGET” STEP):

  • Chicken first: Bake for 15 minutes, flip, then bake 5 more minutes (or until crispy).
  • Veggies: Roast for 20 minutes total (stir halfway if you remember).

5️⃣ SERVE (OR EAT STANDING OVER THE SINK):

  • Plate it up like you meant to make a balanced meal.
  • Optional: Dunk in marinara, ranch, or tears of gratitude from your kids.

🍃 PANDA PRO TIPS

  • “No panko?” Crush up cornflakes, crackers, or even potato chips. Desperate times.
  • “Too lazy to flip?” Crank the broiler for 2 minutes at the end (but watch closely).
  • “Kids hate green beans?” Swap for broccoli or just hide them under the potatoes.
  • “Can I make this high?” Absolutely. Just set a timer so you don’t forget it’s in the oven.

💸 UPGRADE TO MY MEAL PLANS (COMING SOON!)

“This recipe is a sneak peek of my paid meal plans, where I do the math so you don’t have to. Imagine:
✅ Macros already calculated (because who has time for that?)
✅ 4-week rotating menus (so you never hear “this again?!”)
✅ Stoner-proof prep hacks (because cooking elevated is an art form).

Want first dibs? Slide into my DMs or stalk me on Instagram. Until then, enjoy your crispy tenders.

Real-AF Recipes

Real-AF Recipe: Potty Mouth Panda’s Emergency Pesto Pasta

Potty Mouth Panda

WHY YOU NEED THIS:
Because some nights you’re three seconds away from serving cereal for dinner (again), and that’s okay. This pesto pasta is your lifeline – minimal effort, maximum flavor, and zero fucks given. Plus, it’s technically green, so that counts as a vegetable, right?

📝 INGREDIENTS (OR WHATEVER’S IN YOUR PANTRY)

  • 12 oz pasta (any shape – even that half-box of spaghetti from 3 months ago works)
  • 1/2 cup olive oil (or whatever oil won’t make the smoke alarm go off)
  • 1/3 cup grated Parmesan (the cheap, shelf-stable kind is fine)
  • 1 garlic clove (or 1 tsp garlic powder if you’re really not trying)
  • 2 cups fresh spinach (optional, but let’s pretend we’re adults here)
  • 1/4 cup nuts (pine nuts, walnuts, or whatever’s not expired in your pantry)
  • Salt & pepper (to taste, or just shake some in like you mean it)
  • Juice of 1/2 lemon (if you have it, if not, send it anyway)

👩‍🍳 DIRECTIONS (AKA “HOW TO NOT BURN DOWN THE KITCHEN”)

1️⃣ COOK THE DAMN PASTA

  • Boil pasta in salted water until al dente (or until you remember it’s on the stove).
  • Drain, but save 1/2 cup pasta water (this is your “oh shit” insurance policy).

2️⃣ MAKE THE PESTO (OR DON’T, I’M NOT THE BOSS OF YOU)

  • In a blender/food processor (or a bowl with a fork if you’re keeping it real), combine:
    • Spinach, garlic, nuts, Parmesan, and lemon juice.
    • Pulse until it looks like green mush (that’s the good stuff).
    • Slowly drizzle in olive oil while blending (or just dump it in and hope for the best).

3️⃣ MIX IT ALL TOGETHER (THIS IS WHERE THE MAGIC HAPPENS)

  • Toss the pasta with the pesto. If it’s too thick, add pasta water 1 tbsp at a time until it’s saucy.
  • Taste. Need salt? Add it. Need pepper? Go nuts. Need to zone out for 5 minutes? That’s step 4.

4️⃣ SERVE (OR EAT IT STRAIGHT FROM THE POT, WE’VE ALL BEEN THERE)

  • Top with extra Parmesan (or not, who cares).
  • Optional: Add crushed red pepper if your kids won’t stage a protest.
  • Pair with: Your favorite edible, a deep breath, or silent gratitude that dinner didn’t involve chicken nuggets (this time).

🍃 POTTY MOUTH PRO TIPS

  • “No blender?” Chop everything super fine and call it “rustic chic.”
  • “No nuts?” Skip ’em. This isn’t Top Chef.
  • “Too zooted to function?” Use store-bought pesto. No shame in your game.

💸 UPGRADE TO MY MEAL PLANS (COMING SOON!)

“This recipe is a sneak peek of my paid meal plans, where I do the thinking so you don’t have to. Imagine:
✅ Done-for-you grocery lists (no more forgetting the damn pasta)
✅ 4-week rotating menus (so you never hear “this again?!”)
✅ Stoner-proof prep hacks (because cooking elevated is an art form)

Want first dibs? Drop a comment or slide into my DMs over on socials. Until then, enjoy your damn pasta.

Uncategorized

Hi, I’m Brittany—Your Caffeine-Dealer, Chaos Coordinator, and New Internet BFF.

Potty Mouth Panda

Let’s get one thing straight: This isn’t a ‘gentle parenting’ blog. This is a ‘holy shit, how is there another laundry pile?’ blog. A ‘why does my toddler treat bedtime like a WWE match?’ blog. A ‘I will sell my soul for 10 minutes of silence and a hot coffee’ blog. Welcome to The Potty Mouth Panda—where we keep it real, raw, and really fucking funny.

Who TF Am I?
I’m a millennial mom, caffeine addict, professional chaos wrangler, and the unhinged friend you didn’t know you needed. I survive on iced coffee, sarcasm, and the occasional vegetable I stole off my kid’s plate. My credentials? I’ve navigated public tantrums, meal-planning fails, and work-from-home-with-toddlers like a goddamn war hero (minus the dignity).

What to Expect Here:

  1. Coffee-Fueled Rants: “Think TED Talks for moms who haven’t slept since 2019.”
  2. Unfiltered Parenting Stories: “From ‘look at this cute craft!’ to ‘why is there glitter in my bra?’ in 2.5 seconds.”
  3. Meal Planning for People Who Hate Meal Planning: “Spoiler: Sometimes dinner is cereal. Judge me.”
  4. Dark Humor as a Coping Mechanism: “If we don’t laugh, we’ll cry. And my mascara’s too expensive for that.”
  5. Zero Bullshit Tips: “No gatekeeping, no toxic positivity—just real talk on surviving modern motherhood with your sanity mostly intact.”

Why ‘Potty Mouth Panda’?
Because pandas are cute but will absolutely wreck shit when provoked—just like moms. Also, I swear a lot…So if you’re ready to laugh at the chaos (because crying is so 2020), you’re in the right fucking place. Hit ‘subscribe,’ pour that cold coffee, and let’s do this.

P.S. Comment below with your current level of ‘mom burnout’ (1-10, 10 being ‘I just hid in the pantry to eat a candy bar’). Mine’s a solid 7.5—thanks, laundry..