Laura Clery - Idiots : Marriage, Motherhood, Milk & Mistakes

Laura Clery

Idiots

Marriage, Motherhood, Milk & Mistakes

Gallery Books

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Copyright 2022 by Idiots, Inc.

Note to readers: Certain names have been changed whether or not so noted in the text.

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First Gallery Books hardcover edition April 2022

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Interior design by Alexis Minieri

Jacket design by John Vairo Jr.

Photography by Karin Catt

Names: Clery, Laura, author.

Title: Idiots : marriage, mother, milk & mistakes / Laura Clery.

Description: First Gallery Books hardcover edition. | New York : Gallery Books, 2022

Identifiers: LCCN 2021061236 (print) | LCCN 2021061237 (ebook) | ISBN 9781982167103 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781982167110 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781982167127 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Clery, Laura. | Clery, LauraMarriage. | Women comediansUnited StatesBiography. | Internet personalitiesUnited StatesBiography. | Parents of autistic childrenUnited StatesBiography. | Motherhood. | Marriage.

Classification: LCC PN4587.2.C54 A3 2022 (print) | LCC PN4587.2.C54 (ebook) | DDC 814/.6dc23/eng/20220210

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021061236

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021061237

ISBN 978-1-9821-6710-3

ISBN 978-1-9821-6712-7 (ebook)

To my whisker biscuit, for pushing out the two most utterly perfect humans I know.

S o here we are, two kids later. HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN??!!

Sex. Sex is how that happened. To set the scene for you no, not that scene the scene from which Im communicating with you. Im writing this introduction while listening to a very avant-garde soundtrack: the shrill screaming of a toddler. Hold on real quick, Im gonna go tell him to shut the fuck up, but I will translate it to: Hey, sweetheart, its okay to have big feelings, but Mommy is working in the next room so if you could justaw, you want to play with purple sand? Ok then, I can just finish my work later. Stay tuned for more janky parenting tips!

You may be wondering, Why is Laura writing her second book at the same exact time she had a second baby, is in the midst of postpartum depression, and when her toddler just got diagnosed with autism? Good fucking question!

Ive already told you the exciting stories from my drug-fueled life in my first book. Now all I do is breastfeed little aliens and go to bed at 9:30 p.m. I also drink an ungodly amount of coffee, and go on LOTS of walks. Riveting, I know. Maybe youre excited to find out what type of mother I am? So am I! You want birth stories? Fine, admittedly those are juicyliterally! How about my marriage? Want to know more about that? Because its not the perfect #relationshipgoals union that you people seem to think it is. What marriage is? Seriously, if Jay-Z can cheat on Beyonc, were all fucked.

Early one morning, soon after my daughter was born, I was attempting to part ways with my postpartum depression by switching up the route on my daily serenity stroll. New route, new thoughts, new me? I dont fucking know. I was desperate. Oh, I should also mention that on this very personal, soul-searching stroll, I was accompanied by 14,000 strangers on the internet. I was hosting a Facebook Live, chatting to a small towns worth of strangers about how I still had to wear diapers because of the placental tissue that was continuing to exit my body. Just then, I spotted an ancient, ethereal vision of a woman walking purposefully up the steep suburban hill and brandishing a shimmering cane. She wore what looked like a powder-blue cotton kimono and an oversized pink sun hat, which she had perched upon her perfectly silver braids.

Since I have zero impulse control and infinite conviction, I HAD to meet this mystical goddess. I sprinted across the street to kindly accost her by introducing myself and my entourage of 14,000 strangers. We chatted a bit and it turned out she was a huge racist!

KIDDING. She was just as celestial and magical as I knew she would be. We soon learned her name was Anne and she was ninety-eight years old. She was once in the Navy, then was a cop in Detroit in the 1950s, then she worked for more than fifty years as an anesthesiologist, not retiring until the sensible age of eighty-two. She told me she walked those steep hills every day, even when she didnt feel like it. I was blown away, as were my 14,000 besties. I knew I had to ask her what her secret was before she well before she was carried to heaven in a whirlwind.

So whats your secret? I asked, and 14,001 souls anxiously awaited her answer. She arrayed her thoughts, looked at my phone camera with an assuring smile, and said, Fitness, always and the Mediterranean diet.

And just like that, she changed my life. I have been eating nothing but hummus and grape leaves for the past three months straight and it has been a gas (and a little gassy).

She went on to tell me what she believed to be her most important piece of life advice, as well as so many other truly treasured insights. I often wonder, If I hadnt been willing to change my route that morning in a desperate attempt to crawl out of my anguish, would I have ever met her? Thank goodness I did because there she wasmy guru, my guiding light. My boss-ass, bad-ass, mystical-ass bitch: Anne. Obviously, I have now made that route my new daily path, and I have been blessed to see (and kindly accost) her at least thirty more times. Each time I consider it a miracle. She is a reminder to never relent, to keep trudging up that hill, even when my monkey-mind tells me to hide under the covers. I make sure to ask Anne the tough questions: What is the secret to lasting love? What is your biggest regret? Are Kegels worth the trouble? Happily, she has answered all of these questions, and Ill share her wisdom with you throughout this book.

This isnt a how-to book because I dont know how-to. I cannot bake and I genuinely dont know what day it is (yes, I am still sober). I dont even know how to find my iPhone half the time, let alone provide the answers to lifes toughest questions. The purpose of these stories is to tell you my painfully honest and sometimes hilarious perspectives as a woman, a mom, an artist, and a wife. Love it or put a pin in it for now, this is my truth. So hang on to your diaper, if thats where youre atIve been there too. Though, right now tonight, I happen to be wearing coffee-stained sweatpants and a suspiciously moist nursing bra. And by comparison, thats practically date night, isnt it?