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I always knew I’d be the perfect mother. So far, I’ve perfected the fetal position. When Vicki Murphy brought her new baby home from the hospital, she expected to be greeted by fluttering butterflies and harp-strumming cherubs. You know: the way it is in diaper commercials and the “Yay, You’re Preggers!” books. LIAR, LIAR, MATERNITY PANTS ON FIRE! Instead, she had a baby boy who didn’t sleep for a year, whose cry was the official anthem of Hades, and who could suck the nipples off a cyborg. That’s just the beginning of this collection of tell-it-like-it-is rants and musings from the creator of MotherBlogger.ca and mother of the fiery-spirited (and fiery-haired) boy better known as Turbo Ginger. Murphy brings her inimitable voice to a book about mothering that fills in what the other how-to guides leave out – and reminds us that when it comes to parenting, we’re all motherfumblers, feeling our way along in the dark, doing the best we can, hoping to come out with our minds intact and a kid we haven’t screwed up – too badly.