Deadbeat Mom: Parenting A Child Whose Own Mother Refuses To

Just when we thought Veronica had exhausted every possible excuse for avoiding her court-ordered parenting time, she apparently decided to expand her résumé to include amateur hide-and-seek champion and pathological bullshit artist. 🏆 This week, Grandma and Marco arrive at the designated exchange location, ready to hand over the parenting responsibilities Veronica seems so determined to avoid. There’s just one tiny problem. VERONICA IS HIDING. 👀 Not metaphorically. Not figuratively. This woma...

🎶 You down with OPP? YEAH, YOU KNOW HER! 🎶 We’re kicking things off with our weekly check-in of WILL SHE OR WON’T SHE?! Because in the Veronica Cinematic Universe, court-ordered parenting time is apparently more of a suggestion than an actual obligation. It’s Thursday. The excuses are warming up. Friday’s looking questionable. Saturday’s anybody’s guess. And somewhere in the middle of this scheduling shitshow, the rest of us are expected to remain on standby until Veronica decides whether mot...

Welcome to Episode 5, where the Veronica Cinematic Universe delivers a plot twist absolutely nobody ordered: Veronica found the podcast. And, apparently, she has thoughts. Lots of them. 📱💥 So naturally, we’re going to discuss those thoughts. Because if you’re going to voluntarily subscribe to a podcast about yourself and then provide fresh source material, it would be downright rude of me not to acknowledge your contribution. Among Veronica’s concerns: my age, which she appears significantly ...

Friday. The end of the workweek. The beginning of the weekend. A day generally welcomed by the human population. Unless, apparently, you’re Veronica and Friday comes with the horrifying expectation that you participate in parenting your own child. Since school started, we have had seven Fridays: August 14, 21, 28, September 4, 11, 18, and 25. And somehow, against mathematical odds that should probably be studied by NASA, Veronica has managed to turn Every. Single. One. into some f...

Four days. That is how long Veronica knew where I lived before I walked downstairs one evening and discovered that the rear passenger-side window of my car had been smashed to absolute shit. Now, am I saying Veronica did it? No. Because unlike Veronica, I understand that accusations generally work better when accompanied by evidence. What I am saying is that my car had somehow managed to survive its entire existence without being randomly attacked…right up until Veronica learned m...