Parenting is a Joke

This episode of Parenting Is a Joke revisits Ophira Eisenberg's conversation with comedian Laurie Kilmartin who recently wrote for the Academy Awards. They talk about  the realities of parenting a teenage son, sustaining a comedy career, and processing grief in real time. Kilmartin talks about raising her 16-year-old largely on her own while maintaining a relentless stand-up schedule—flying red-eyes from Los Angeles to New York to stack multiple sets in a single night—and how that work ethic shaped both her career and her parenting, from bringing her infant son into casino green rooms to relying on a hotel babysitting service while she performed. She explains her decision to keep her son's identity private despite building material around him, even as he creates his own anime-inspired webcomic universe, and reflects on how growing up with a comedian parent gives him a creative “second base” advantage. The conversation moves between sharp bits—like ranking comedy clubs based on their food because her son only cares about burgers and pretzel bites—and heavier territory, including Kilmartin's choice to live-tweet jokes during both her father's hospice care and her mother's COVID hospitalization, describing the surreal isolation of saying goodbye through iPads and gloves and how writing in real time helped her process events that didn't feel real. Along the way, she shares her long-game parenting philosophy (minimal interference, maximum observation), her lack of initial desire to become a mother, and her very specific future plan to leave the U.S. and spend a year doing open mics across Europe once her son graduates, using a hard-won Luxembourg passport. The episode lands on the strange, funny, and practical intersections of comedy, caregiving, and creative survival, ending with Kilmartin half-jokingly pitching an expat comedy club chain while asking to be booked anywhere in Europe. Follow Laurie Kilmartin: https://www.instagram.com/anylaurie16 See Ophira LIVE: https://www.ophiraeisenberg.com/events/ SUBSCRIBE so you never miss O thing: https://www.ophiraeisenberg.com/sign-up Follow PIAJ:  https://www.instagram.com/parentingisajoke/ https://parentingisajoke.substack.com/   Follow Ophira: https://www.instagram.com/ophirae/ https://www.facebook.com/OphiraEisenberg/ https://www.tiktok.com/@ophiranyc Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

In this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg revisits a favorite conversation with actor and comedian Ashley Austin Morris recorded while Morris was four months pregnant and still adjusting to the surreal reality of becoming a parent after never planning to be one. The two comics swap very specific pregnancy experiences from the perspective of performers who work nights, including the strange logistics of building a comedy career while anticipating sleep deprivation and childcare. Morris talks openly about miscarriages, including the emotional whiplash of feeling relief after one pregnancy ended because severe hormonal changes had left her sobbing on the floor and convinced she couldn't care for the baby. She explains how an unexpected catalyst—a chaotic rescue puppy whose needs sparked a new instinct to nurture—suddenly rewired her thinking about motherhood. The conversation also gets into the uncomfortable realities of pregnancy culture: genetic testing debates with an OB-GYN, the anxiety-producing medical environment of New York prenatal care, body changes that hit faster than expected, and the strange intimacy of discussing weight and cravings with strangers. Morris reflects on recovering from a long struggle with an eating disorder, including a surprising pandemic-era scholarship that allowed her to spend 80 days in a treatment program and ultimately find a different path to recovery. Throughout the conversation, the two comedians bring their storytelling instincts to the everyday details of pregnancy life—from Morris eating jars of pasta sauce with a spoon to Eisenberg's prenatal yoga class where everyone shared their cravings.

On this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg talks with author and humor writer Johanna Gohmann about her new book, All Toddlers Are Scorpios, an astrological guide that reframes toddler behavior—revenge plotting, emotional volatility, public nudity-adjacent costume choices—as pure Scorpio energy. Johanna shares how the idea struck while she was standing in the humor section at Barnes & Noble when her agent called with the concept, and how illustrator Emily Flake helped bring the tiny terrors to life. The conversation moves from toddlers wearing oven mitts on errands to rediscovered photos of her son teething on a copy of Screw Everyone, and the time he mistook a vibrator for a “soldering iron,” thanks to his dad's gadget-building hobby. They trade stories about explaining menstruation on vacation (including an “orange pumpkin” misunderstanding in a Greek airport bathroom) and giving “the talk” to boys who immediately regret asking for it. Johanna also reflects on the creative life of writing comedy from a Brooklyn apartment before the 3:30 school-bus reset, researching astrology with a stack of books that initially included only Sex Astrology, and parenting a 13-year-old who loves Rocky training montages while being raised to name and feel his emotions. The episode captures the constant recalibration of raising boys in a culture obsessed with masculinity, managing YouTube boundaries, and finding humor in the raw, unregulated intensity of early childhood.

On this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg sits down with humor writer Johanna Gohmann to talk about raising a teenage son while building a comedy writing career that includes pieces in The New Yorker, McSweeney's, and The Wall Street Journal—and the release of her new parenting book, All Toddlers Are Scorpios (out April 7). Gohmann, a self-described astrology skeptic, explains how she researched zodiac lore to frame toddlers as tiny tyrants written in the stars—while admitting she's a Sagittarius married to one and still not convinced any of it tracks. She shares what it's like parenting her 13-year-old son, who is on the autism spectrum and currently obsessed with writing fake obituaries, navigating middle school graduation photos that made her cry, and growing up as an only child with two hovering creative parents. The conversation veers into her years living in Dublin after a one-night-stand-turned-marriage to her Northern Irish husband, how not being legally allowed to work unexpectedly jumpstarted her writing life, and why gray Irish summers require fires in August. Gohmann revisits the Moth StorySLAM win where she told the now-legendary story of mistaking postpartum diarrhea for a life-threatening hemorrhage—only to realize that once you've defecated on the delivery room floor, embarrassment loses its power—and reflects on parenting through grief, explaining death to a four-year-old who decided heaven might be an Arby's. The episode moves easily between comedy and real-life stakes—misplaced lunches, replaced fish, helicopter parenting guilt, Catholic relatives in Indiana, and the strange Brooklyn playground hierarchy—capturing what it actually looks like to balance creative work, storytelling, marriage, and raising a kid who prefers writing obituaries to small talk.

On this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, writer and podcaster Gideon Evans joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about raising subway-riding kids in New York while building a creative life that has required real-time pivots from television to podcasting. He explains the surprisingly durable concept behind his history podcast Bad Elizabeth—born out of a pilot recorded with a former Daily Show colleague and eventually profiled in The Guardian—where he and his co-host explore notorious (and occasionally “badass”) Elizabeths, from Elizabeth Holmes to a Hungarian countess who allegedly bathed in blood. The conversation moves between career recalibration in a shrinking TV industry, the financial realities of podcasting (“the margins are thin”), and his complicated relationship with cable news, including why PBS NewsHour and Germany's DW have become more tolerable household options than the sensory overload of Morning Joe. As a dad, he reflects on raising kids who take the subway alone, volunteer at food insecurity programs, and prefer Dungeons & Dragons at Brooklyn Game Lab over cable news debates, and he's honest about masking his own nerves on train platforms so his son won't absorb them. There's nostalgia too—introducing his son to The Naked Gun, watching The Mandalorian together, and discovering that D&D's gelatinous cube is both a metaphor and a legitimate threat—ending on the hard-earned parenting truth that sometimes you get swallowed, and sometimes you roll a fireball spell.

On this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg talks with writer and producer Gideon Evans about raising two teenagers while building a career in comedy that's ricocheted from scrappy theater internships to six years at The Daily Show. Gideon shares the surreal early days of hustling in Manhattan—once driving Frank Langella around in his parents' station wagon to pick up a giant painted portrait of the actor—before landing staff jobs with health insurance just in time for a grueling two-to-three-year IVF process that included being dropped by a clinic worried about its “numbers” and producing a sample in his endocrinologist father-in-law's office. The conversation moves easily between the practical math of raising kids in Brooklyn, the relief of finally getting dental insurance in middle age, and college tours at McGill University and Concordia University as his son explores art and coding. Gideon also revisits his formative years working for Michael Moore on TV Nation, including the time he snuck into Walt Disney World dressed as an eight-foot “corporate crime fighting” chicken to confront executives about labor conditions—only to be detained, photographed as both man and poultry, and officially banned for “chicken in the park.” The episode closes with the origin story of his meticulously researched podcast Bad Elizabeth, where each installment profiles a notorious Elizabeth—from Lizzie Borden to Elizabeth Holmes—proving that even after being hauled into Disney jail, he still has the trespass notice that literally lists his offense as “chicken in the park.”

On this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg continues her conversation with Annabelle Gurwitch, focusing on community, money, anxiety, and what parenting looks like when your child is grown and the ground keeps shifting. Gurwitch talks about creating stability through “Stammtisch”–style standing lunches and Sunday meetups, describing how scheduled friendships became a lifeline after COVID and as creative communities fractured under self-tapes, remote work, and rising costs. She shares a formative early-career story from the Chelsea Hotel, where waiting hours to audition opposite Gary Oldman led not to a movie role but to a decades-long friendship, underscoring how creative life is often built sideways. The conversation turns to parenting adult children in an unstable economy—worrying about what you can't give them, negotiating money without trust funds, and finding dignity in simply taking turns paying for lunch. Gurwitch revisits the pandemic moment that reshaped her family, recounting how a routine COVID test turned into a lung cancer diagnosis delivered by phone while stranded in a broken-down car with her son, forcing her to manage terror, logistics, and motherhood at the same time. She reflects on anxiety as a finite resource, the necessity of compartmentalizing fear, and her concept of “durable gladness”—small, survivable joys that replace impossible expectations of constant fulfillment—before the episode veers into comic relief with a riff about monetizing the phrase as luxury adult diapers, complete with branding ideas and a mock sponsorship fantasy.

On this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg talks with writer, performer, and memoirist Annabelle Gurwitch about parenting an adult child while still actively shaping a creative life that refuses to behave. Gurwitch reflects on writing The End of My Life Is Killing Me while navigating stage-four lung cancer treatment, explaining why she frames the book as a “second life” rather than a comeback story, and why she deliberately avoids language like resilience and mindfulness after watching those words get hollowed out by marketing. The conversation moves between parenting, storytelling, and art with surgical specificity: Gurwitch recounts negotiating with her 27-year-old son Ezra over what stories about him can appear on the page, describes him hiding under a hoodie at her Joe's Pub show before offering a perfectly therapy-informed compliment, and shares how their relationship shifted during COVID when he moved home from Bard. She tells Ophira about being inundated with juicers after her diagnosis, her disastrous visit to a Malibu “healer” later revealed to be a litigious fraud, and the line Ezra delivers at a juice bar—“Eternal life sucks ass, Mom”—that she fought to keep in the book. Gurwitch also walks through her love of contrarian thinking, her anti–Eat, Pray, Love travel story involving a European heavy-metal band and a hotel with bleach stains and toenail clippings, and the surreal moment she opened her book-cover email in Barcelona expecting a Bernini sculpture and instead saw a chicken doing yoga, prompting Ezra to ask if there was “a story about chicken” inside.

In this second conversation with Jon Fisch, Ophira Eisenberg and Jon settle into the daily mechanics of parenting two young kids while maintaining a working stand-up career, from navigating December birthdays, redshirting anxiety, and Malcolm Gladwell math, to the quiet shock of realizing your kid suddenly wants to walk to school alone. Fisch talks through the practical negotiations of comedy life now that bedtime matters—calling clubs to ask when he actually needs to arrive, setting a firm four-figure holiday minimum for skipping Passover, and learning how to sneak out of the house mid-Hot Wheels race without triggering tears. They compare notes on sibling dynamics as Fisch describes his daughter's recent 180 into devoted big-sister mode, reading books to her brother for an hour while grandparents watched football, and reflect on the strange intimacy of bringing a child to shows where she colors on the floor, doesn't look up once, and later proudly announces, “You were talking about me.” The episode threads through modern parenting pressure points—YouTube shorts bans, grocery store toy ambushes, American Girl's Hot Wheels crossover, and the slow realization that kids' programming is one story told with dogs, trucks, or monsters—before circling back to the moment Fisch explains why leaving for a gig feels hardest when his son suddenly has “a thousand things to say” as he's reaching for his coat.

In this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg sits down with longtime friend and comedian Jon Fisch to talk about becoming the parent he always knew he wanted to be—just not in the order he expected—starting with the moment he learned his girlfriend was pregnant while sitting across from his mother at a Cheesecake Factory in the Natick Mall. They trade stories about raising young kids during COVID, from how lockdown accidentally turned Jon's son into an early, voracious reader thanks to curbside bookstore recommendations, to navigating a preemie birth amid constantly shifting hospital rules that changed by the nursing shift. The conversation drifts easily between creative life and parenting logic, including Jon's observation that stand-up used to provide “purpose” at night until kids rewired the entire day, and how slowing down during the pandemic made comedy feel more enjoyable again. The heart of the episode lands on a darkly funny family legend involving his niece's beloved owl lovey—one of many identical backups—which Jon confirms his brother once decapitated in a moment of exhausted bedtime brinkmanship, a parenting move so extreme it later came full circle when that same niece gifted her remaining owls to Jon's newborn daughter.

In this episode, Ophira Eisenberg reconnects with author, dad, and tattoo artist Phuc Tran for a conversation that zigzags from Star Wars as a childhood lifeline to parenting philosophies shaped by motorcycles, rotary phones, and letting kids touch the metaphorical hot pipe. Tran talks about growing up Vietnamese in a town where missing one TV network meant missing cultural shorthand, and how Star Wars became a rare common language that let him belong, a feeling he's intentionally recreating with his own daughters by showing them the films before they develop a critical eye. They get into raising kids amid microlabeling culture, with Tran explaining why he wrote “labels are for jars” on the family chalkboard, as well as his years teaching Latin, Greek, and German, arguing that Latin slows kids down in a way modern life rarely does. The conversation moves easily between creative work and parenting ethics, from why he stopped talking tattoo clients out of bad ideas after becoming a parent to how children's books often serve adult anxieties more than kids' curiosity. Throughout, Tran frames creativity as something lived rather than branded—whether it's daughters trading sketchbooks at restaurants instead of phones, apprenticing at the tattoo shop, or his own belief that punk rock shouldn't be a lifelong personality—before landing on the story of calmly watching his toddler pick herself up in public while a stranger yelled, a moment that neatly captures his faith in letting kids learn by standing back.

Ophira Eisenberg sits down with author, tattoo artist, and Maine-based dad Phuc Tran for a wide-ranging, grounded conversation that moves from frantic school drop-offs and topping off windshield wiper fluid before a storm to the deeper anxieties of becoming a parent after trauma, bullying, and immigration. Tran talks candidly about growing up as a Vietnamese refugee in small-town America, finding safety in classrooms when home wasn't safe, and how punk rock, tattoos, and books became both armor and language. The two bond over raising kids while making creative work that pays unevenly, advocating half-jokingly for plumbing and electrical careers, and embracing Maine's culture of the multi-hyphenate as a survival skill rather than a branding exercise He also reflects on fearing he'd be a bad father, how therapy reframed imperfection as necessary, and why parenting teenage daughters now feels like his area of expertise after decades teaching middle and high school. They also get into luck versus merit in publishing, how his memoir Sigh, Gone led—almost accidentally—to a bestselling children's book series about big feelings, and why emotional batteries, not discipline charts, determine household peace. The episode circles back to physical objects as emotional anchors, landing on Tran's red rotary phone—kept for Maine power outages and the unmatched satisfaction of slamming down a receiver when a conversation is truly over.

Carole Montgomery and Ophira Eisenberg zoom out from early parenting to talk about what happens after the kid grows up, moves out, and then… moves back in. Carole describes her son's room as a frozen time capsule—albums, toys, and CDs untouched—while explaining how his first attempt at college lasted six months before the classic millennial boomerang returned him home, a pattern she sums up as “they leave, they come back; I moved—he found me.” She reflects on the anxiety that followed him into adulthood, her belief that anxiety is practically the baseline setting now, and the emotional whiplash of touring for weeks before constant phone contact existed, including the moment her six-year-old calmly told her she was “solid” and could go back on the road. The conversation weaves through parenting philosophies shaped by Vegas cul-de-sacs and open-door houses, her resistance to overscheduled childhoods, the reality that almost no kids actually go pro despite intense sports pressure, and the great trophy purge that left only signed baseballs and, somehow, her husband's awards. Carole also digs into the creation of Funny Women of a Certain Age, venting about theaters that expect comics to sell tickets, sweep floors, and manage social media while still questioning whether women-led comedy events can sell, all before landing on the oddly satisfying moment she told a woman in her mid-30s she was simply too young for the show.

In this New Year's episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg talks with mystic, Reiki practitioner, and parent Jennifer Wai about raising kids while trusting intuition in a culture obsessed with rules, experts, and productivity. Jennifer explains what it actually means to be a mystic—describing herself as a human antenna fine-tuning static—and traces that sensitivity back to a childhood marked by literal thinking, bullying, and parents who didn't quite know what to do with a kid who felt everything. They compare notes on parenting highly perceptive children, including how Jennifer's early ability to anticipate her kids' needs sometimes backfired by discouraging them from speaking up, and how her own children have been “socialized out” of mystical thinking, even as they casually tolerate card pulls and energy talk. The conversation moves easily from Reiki as “gentle jumper cables” for the nervous system to the emotional labor of rejecting people-pleasing while doing psychic readings, before landing on practical parenting ideas for the year ahead—like offering kids a “third option” instead of a hard no, or sitting through Fortnite matches just to stay connected. The episode closes on Jennifer's big theme of grace—grace around self-care that looks like binge-watching, grace around messiness, and grace delivered with a laugh as Ophira admits she's now calling “grace” her personal Pantone color.

Comedian Carole Montgomery joins Parenting Is a Joke to talk with Ophira Eisenberg about raising a kid while building a stand-up career that never paused, even when everyone told her it should. Carole traces her path from starting comedy at 21 in male-dominated Brooklyn clubs to touring relentlessly as a new mom, pumping breast milk backstage and leaving her six-month-old with a six-foot-five tattooed bouncer who didn't know how to remove a baby from a car seat. She reflects on the blunt warning from a manager who said pregnancy would ruin her career—followed almost immediately by a Showtime taping—and the practical choices that shaped her parenting, like stopping road trips only when her son needed his own airline seat. The conversation moves through her years hosting a topless revue in Vegas while serving as PTA vice president, her zero-nonsense style as team mom who swore at line-cutting kids, and the strange mix of guilt, stamina, and pride that comes from doing school drop-offs after midnight shows. Throughout, Carole and Ophira trade observations about creative work, class differences in parenting, and how kids remember presence more than perfection, circling back to the image of a tiny Lane being rocked by a nervous nightclub bouncer—an early sign he'd grow up completely at home backstage.

Comedian Mike Feeney joins Ophira Eisenberg in the thick of brand-new fatherhood, talking through life with his 15-month-old son Leo while juggling touring, illness roulette from daycare, and a self-imposed creative gauntlet that included shooting, directing, and editing a high-concept Comedy Cellar special when his baby was just ten weeks old. Feeney gets specific about the early months—the shock of sleep deprivation, the grim honesty of telling each other “we made a terrible mistake,” and the strange relief when sleep training worked so fast it felt suspicious, complete with his mom stepping in while he and his wife hid out at a nearby hotel. The conversation moves through IVF logistics, postpartum preeclampsia that sent his wife back to the hospital days after delivery, and the whiplash of supporting a partner's health while hopping on the subway to make stage time. Feeney's comic brain shines in granular parenting moments: the deep-crib back pain of sliding an arm out from under a sleeping baby, screen-recording bedtime attempts like wildlife footage, and the quiet dread of being turned away from daycare because of “a little gunk” that turned out to be pink eye. He reflects on how parenting has narrowed his creative window in a way that sharpened his writing, forced clearer priorities, and made him ruthless about which projects survive, all while admitting that FaceTiming from the road thrills Leo for ten minutes before it completely backfires. The episode lands on a perfectly lived-in note with Feeney describing that heart-stopping morning scream when his bedroom door opens and Leo charges in “like a bat out of hell,” a wake-up call that's both terrifying and somehow the best part of the day.

In this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, comedian Emily Walsh talks to Ophira Eisenberg about becoming a parent later in life and being labeled “advanced maternal age” by New York doctors while taking “nightly little baby aspirin” she was told “sometimes works” for reasons no one could explain. She describes meeting her tiny five-pound newborn who arrived a month early with “newborn fuzz” on her ears and back and a full head of hair that proved her pregnancy heartburn was accurate karma for marrying a very “hairy man.” Parenting for the first time at 40 means learning everything on the fly — sometimes quoting TikToks as if they were books — while hoarding three different “booger-sucking robots,” including a hospital-grade model she gleefully uses every morning. She shares postpartum rage (“Don't kill your husband” turned out to be wise advice), frustration with breastfeeding (“barbaric,” she says), and the absurdity of pumping in Times Square between comedy sets because the manager can't comprehend her need to schedule pumping. A broken ankle took away her baby-calming outdoor walks, she hasn't made a “mom friend” yet, and her social circle is still figuring out she's “not dead,” even as she continues podcasting, stand-up, and raising a baby who dressed as Jeff Goldblum from Jurassic Park with her bassinet converted into the Jeep and her husband in an inflatable T-Rex suit.

In this episode, Ophira talks with comic and new mom and comedian Emily Walsh, who shares how she spent her twenties and thirties convinced she didn't want kids, only to find herself writing an Edinburgh show about that exact ambivalence and then trying to conceive between gigs in Atlantic City. Emily describes entering stand-up at 30 after years painting sets for Blue Bloods—so many beige walls she started an Instagram called “Beige Bloods”—and navigating a scene of young men who only acknowledged her existence after she did well onstage. She and her husband weighed whether comedy's unpredictable grind should dictate their future, eventually trying minor-science fertility help because their work schedules kept missing the 18-hour ovulation window. Emily recounts giving birth a month early with the flu, spending twelve hours in a triage room where nurses kept losing the baby's heart rate, avoiding a balloon induction only because she was already three centimeters dilated, and delivering after an emergency episiotomy followed by the infamous “puppet moment” when a surgeon had to reach in by hand to remove her placenta—much to her husband's horror when he asked if she'd please double-check with an ultrasound.

In this Snack episode, Ophira catches up with author and storyteller Katy Strange, who talks about the very specific chaos of raising two tweens while publishing her debut novel The Manly Man of God. Katy explains how her book's bold, saint-like cover—complete with a mysteriously floating eggplant—has sparked confusion among some readers, including a man at her book launch who sincerely asked if the story involved a farmers' market subplot. She and Ophira dig into the megachurch culture that inspired the book, including the time a stranger on a Vancouver bus tried to flirt with Katy only to pivot into trying to convert her, not realizing she understood church history well enough to corner him with questions about communal living. Katy also shares how writing the novel began during nap-time marathons, how a women's business incubator with drop-in childcare became her creative lifeline, and how her family's “Yes Day” tradition has evolved from toddlers eating crackers on the couch to tweens burning through budgets on Shake Shack, fancy haircuts, and sneaker hunts. And at the end, Katy describes how her 13-year-old now treats Warhammer figurines as a non-negotiable expense, as well as expensive haircuts from the mall salon that is covered in ring lights.

In this episode, Ophira talks with author and storyteller Katy (Katharine) Strange about the tangled realities of raising tweens while untangling a past shaped by evangelical culture. Katy shares how moving 17 times as a kid primed her for reading a room—and for assuming friendships were optional until she realized she wasn't relocating again. She talks about letting her 13-year-old navigate Seattle's public transit with “mixed results,” including surprise solo detours through the city, and about trying to teach her kids religion only to have her son declare he's an existentialist who'd rather stay home and play Halo. Katy also opens up about stepping away from the church, wrestling with belief through therapy, and finding her way back to spiritual curiosity while writing her debut novel Manly Man of God, which pulls from her upbringing in Christian fundamentalism—with zero Cologne-drenched megachurch teenagers harmed in the process. And in the final moments, Ophira asks Katy about her son's readiness for confirmation, prompting Katy to admit that he took one look at her lesson plan and said, “I don't believe in any of this—I'm an atheist,” before returning to his video game.

In this snack-sized conversation, Ophira Eisenberg talks with author and newly certified parenting coach Kerri Smith-Maher about how years of teaching writing, her daughter's struggles, her own sobriety journey, and a crash course in perimenopause all pushed her toward parent coaching. Kerri explains how a psychologist friend steered her away from graduate school and toward certification at the Jai Institute, where she dove into nervous system science, attachment theory, and the iceberg model of behavior. She shares why Dr. Becky Kennedy's Good Inside is her go-to recommendation, how a family DBT course helped them decode behavior “under the surface,” and why the real breakthrough in her house came when she learned to regulate herself instead of rushing to fix her daughter's reactions. Kerri also describes how Tara Brach's Radical Acceptance finally taught her to “pause” by practicing it during calm moments—helped along by an iPhone alarm labeled “pause” three times a day. The episode ends with Kerri revealing that her best creative work happens only after caffeine, dog-walking, and a strict morning writing window, a habit she built during her daughter's three-morning-a-week nursery school era.

In this episode, Ophira Eisenberg talks with author and parent coach Kerri Maher (aka. Kerri Smith–Maher and also Kerri Majors) about the many names she has published under, the publishing-industry lunch where her team rejected both “Smith” and “Pasqualetti” for SEO reasons, and why she ultimately adopted her grandmother's maiden name as her pen name. Kerri recalls handwriting her first unfinished novel on her dad's yellow legal pads—an early story about a girl and her blind best friend—before sharing how childhood surgeries and months of immobility pushed her toward reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and imagining her way into writing. She and Ophira compare their kids' school experiences, including Kerri's daughter moving to an all-girls high school after a discussion about the “confidence gap,” and they trade notes on raising book-loving but highly specific readers. Kerri also explains how she discovered the Jane Collective through an NPR segment, pitched “the Jane novel” long before Dobbs, and watched the publishing world suddenly accelerate its enthusiasm for a feminist protest story. The conversation wraps with Kerri admitting her daughter refuses to read her novels and Ophira celebrating that Kerri's kid once described Spirit Airlines as an airline that “steals your spirit.”

Comedian Julia Scotti joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about the long, winding path that brought her back to stand-up after transitioning and a decade away from comedy. Julia reflects on raising three children amid multiple marriages and constant touring, her fear of repeating her own fractured childhood, and the painful 14-year estrangement from her kids after she came out as transgender. She recalls coming out mid-set at a blue-collar Pennsylvania club and later to 13 million people on America's Got Talent, joking that she wanted to be judged “on the act, not the anatomy.” Julia also describes how teaching special education students during that period filled the hole left by her kids' absence—including a harrowing day during 9/11 when she nearly took her own life. The conversation touches on old stand-up footage where she mocked trans people before understanding her identity, her love of Louis Prima singalongs with her son, and the two corny jokes she first told him from his crib. The episode ends on a warm note as Julia admits she “unleashed the Kraken” by raising another comedy lover.

In this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, Andy Richter joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about raising three kids across two generations—his 23-year-old son, 18-year-old daughter, and a four-year-old he's helping raise with his new wife. Andy reflects on how parenting feels different now that he's happier, newly remarried, and out of a long stretch of depression. He shares how his youngest daughter “runs the household,” including her silent-scream protest when he put her to bed, and how he navigates parenting alongside a Disney-obsessed extended family where his sister-in-law once played Jasmine at Disneyland. Andy contrasts his own self-reliant, latchkey childhood with the more protected upbringing of his older kids and admits he sometimes overcorrected by doing too much for them. He describes the uneasy balance of using personal material in comedy—recalling the “divorced dad” jokes he deleted from Twitter—and the line between honesty and oversharing, both online and in family life. Through it all, his warmth and humor shine, whether he's talking about his son's Uber Eats job, his daughter's bedtime negotiations, or his hope that one day his kids will want to work with him the way Robert Altman's children did—with love strong enough to last sixteen hours on set.

In this Parenting Is a Joke snack episode, Ophira Eisenberg chats again with Kate Auletta, Editor-in-Chief of Scary Mommy and Romper, about her years as a journalist and the surprising turns that led her from travel writing to parenting media. Kate recalls running HuffPost's “How to Raise a Kid” conference in 2017—pulling together experts to talk about money, race, sex, and digital literacy right as the Trump era began—and how it felt like a bright moment of optimism and connection before online discourse hardened. She and Ophira laugh about trolls who argue over sunscreen recipes and how parenting pieces, no matter how harmless, seem to ignite fury. Kate shares that her most viral post, written during the early pandemic, was simply a plea for parents to “give yourself grace,” while health content still draws the fiercest backlash. The conversation shifts to travel—her love for St. Barts (despite how un–kid-friendly it proved), the Costa Rican jungle cot that scarred her for life, and a vomit-filled night at a roadside hotel near the Basketball Hall of Fame. She swears by headphone adapters as her most vital travel gear, while her husband lugs an entire backpack of snacks. The episode ends, fittingly, with her dog Franklin barking in the background, signaling that even editors-in-chief can't escape the soundscape of parenting.

In this episode of Parenting is a Joke, Ophira talks with Kate Auletta, Editor-in-Chief of Scary Mommy and Romper, about raising two sons in the suburbs after growing up as a “true East Side” New Yorker. Kate shares how her mornings start with Picture Day chaos, a barking dog, and kids who quiz her about world politics before breakfast. She describes her nine-year-old as a relentless question machine and her older son as a newly minted golf enthusiast—“a full-on suburb kid.” The conversation covers everything from navigating kids' sports and body image to Kate's viral essay about keeping a “naked house,” which she defends as a way to model body confidence and normalcy. She also recalls how explaining the meaning of “69” abruptly ended her sons' giggle fits and how she recently schooled her tween on SEO after he assumed Google's top search result meant “best.” The two moms bond over C-section scars, endless school breaks, and the unspoken exhaustion of early mornings. The episode ends on Kate's wry admission that she's still clinging to the pool on Labor Day, refusing to surrender summer to Maysember.

In this Halloween “snack” episode, Ophira Eisenberg reconnects with horror writer and fellow Brooklyn parent Brooke Mackenzie to dig deeper into her psychic and supernatural experiences. Brooke explains that she once asked “the powers that be” to remove her ability to see ghosts through deep meditation—but kept one lingering gift: premonition dreams that sometimes predict people's deaths, a trait she says runs in her family. She recalls her one-year-old daughter giggling at an empty rocking chair and saying “Papa,” suggesting that the connection might continue in the next generation. The two trade stories about Halloween costumes and stolen stoop decorations before diving into Brooke's past involvement with Wicca, her vast crystal collection (so large her husband gives her a “quota”), and how she uses crystals for rituals—including fertility and protection rituals aided by quartz, selenite, and Herkimer diamonds. Brooke describes working as a tutor, balancing motherhood with writing horror, and how she still fears demons, exorcisms, and her own mortality. She swears she'll never touch a Ouija board again after one terrifying encounter that ended with a shop owner insisting it be stored in a freezer. The conversation wraps on a lighter note about pillowcase trick-or-treating and Brooke's hopes to publish children's books someday—just maybe with a crystal or two close by for good juju.

In this Halloween-timed episode, Ophira Eisenberg talks with Brooklyn-based horror author and poet Brooke Mackenzie, who balances writing ghost stories with parenting her five-year-old daughter. Brooke describes her haunted Minnesota childhood home—once owned by a member of the Pillsbury family—complete with a female ghost in the basement and a handsy spirit in an old pony shed. She recounts asking “the powers that be” in college to take away her ability to see ghosts after too many eerie encounters at Sarah Lawrence. Ophira and Brooke trade jokes about “geriatric motherhood,” with Brooke explaining how she had her daughter at 40 after infertility struggles and found calm in later-in-life parenting. She also shares how the pandemic sent her family from Manhattan to a haunted mountain town in Northern California, where she wrote much of her horror fiction. Brooke reveals that her story “The Elevator Game”—inspired by the real-life Eliza Lam mystery—launched her career at 39 and led to her collections Ghost Games and The Scary ABC Diary. They discuss the rise of women in horror, how horror offers catharsis and justice, and how motherhood made her writing darker and more body-focused (“once you've had every fluid on you…”). The episode ends with Ophira laughing about diaper blowout memories while Brooke jokes that she now spends more time on beta-fish forums than parenting.

Actor and comedian Mary Lynn Rajskub joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about raising her now 18-year-old son while continuing to perform stand-up, act, and write. She recalls being visibly pregnant during her last season on 24, with body doubles and stunts ruined when her belly showed up in the shot. She describes her early comedy experiments with Girls' Guitar Club—two stand-ups who couldn't play guitar but turned awkward banter into an act—and later channeled pregnancy and motherhood into her one-woman show Mary Lynn Spreads Her Legs, notorious for a review praising its “mean-spirited” riffs on infanticide and colicky babies. Rajskub laughs about her son's indifference to her career (“he's never been to a show”) and his generation's distance from the service-industry jobs she once held, like mixing ranch dressing at Denny's or lining up greeting cards as a “Hallmark girl.” She admits that leaving home for late-night sets always felt like dragging herself away from the reward of parental wind-down time, and she jokes about young comics inviting her to midnight podcasts when her bedtime is closer to 8:30. The episode ends with Rajskub savoring the absurd “power” she once felt being trusted to stir ranch dressing at Denny's—a comic foreshadowing of chasing a laugh on stage.

Daily Show correspondent Jordan Klepper joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about raising his two-and-a-half-year-old son, Witt, while juggling a career built on improv, political satire, and late-night comedy. Klepper recalls misjudging the mattress size for his son's bunk bed—leaving a four-inch gap that could double as future deposition material—and justifying his “safety plan” with a beanbag chair under the danger zone. He rails against the whiplash speed of kids' TV, admitting Bluey gets a pass while Gabby's Dollhouse and Cocomelon make him wince, then describes how YouTube ballet performances and Singin' in the Rain became his family's slower-paced alternative. Klepper revisits his Kalamazoo math-nerd roots, including the actuarial scientist who tried to sell him on predicting death for insurance companies, before he pivoted to improv and eventually landed at The Daily Show. Now, he applies his correspondent's interrogative style to parenting—only to be told by his wife to stop cross-examining their toddler at the dinner table. From Amazon-era instant gratification to his son's invented sneakers-with-springs-and-wheels, Klepper balances surreal political interviews with the even trickier task of convincing Witt to wear a jacket. The episode ends with a new father–son bit: shouting “Dan!” back and forth, lifted from an Alan Partridge sketch that Witt now proudly recycles as their private running gag.

In this snack episode, comedian Tony Deyo regales Ophira Eisenberg with some of the strangest leaps he's taken, from auditioning disastrously for Stomp—where his lack of dance skills left him drumming on himself in front of professional dancers—to jumping out of airplanes during Army ROTC, even though the first time he'd ever flown was on the way to jump school. Now a parent, he admits that those risks have given way to new kinds of adventures, like being pressured by his son into riding a 140-foot drop water slide that ripped his swim trunks. Tony talks about how he sets limits, such as refusing to pay $6 for an ice cream bar from a truck, and reflects on the challenges of raising a child alongside an aging dog that required endless vet bills. Though he once feared fatherhood would mark the end of his freedom, he says it's been the best thing in his life and hopes his son finds work he loves as much as Tony loves comedy. The episode ends with Ophira daring him to perform at his son's school fundraiser, reminding him that if he can survive a botched Stomp audition and parachuting out of planes, he can handle a PTA crowd.

Comedian Tony Deyo joins Ophira Eisenberg this week to talk about balancing creative work with family life, starting with his strict morning writing routine that often happens next to his son playing video games. He describes raising his now-11-year-old, the youngest in his class, and reflects on being the youngest in school himself. Tony shares the story of meeting his wife in college marching band — he was a drummer, she played clarinet — and riffs on the personalities of every instrument section, from flighty flutists to arrogant trumpeters. He recalls teaching band in Texas, where even tiny towns had million-dollar music programs, and compares it to his son's current school where he ended up donating a bass drum stand after watching one sit on the floor during a concert. Tony explains how writing marching band shows became the financial bridge that allowed him to leave teaching for comedy, while still supporting his family. He also talks about timing his late-night TV appearances around his son's birth, pulling back from stand-up during his child's early years, and now enjoying adventures together like Broadway shows, the Basketball Hall of Fame, and planning a Route 66 road trip. The conversation ends with Ophira marveling at Tony's son being a true “come with guy,” always ready to say yes to whatever plan his dad dreams up.

In this snack episode, John Moe—host of Depresh Mode and Sleeping with Celebrities—shares memories with Ophira Eisenberg of sneaking into R-rated movies as a kid, including the terrifying but oddly comical Alien chest-burster scene that was softened by nearby jokesters comparing it to a hot dog with ketchup. He recalls being deeply shaken by The Exorcist and a low-budget Bigfoot “documentary,” which hit especially hard growing up in the Pacific Northwest. Moe also talks about the movies he's passed down to his kids—Back to the Future, The Blues Brothers, Smokey and the Bandit, and Star Wars—while reflecting on how their pacing collides with today's faster attention spans. Watching E.T. as an adult made him empathize more with the stressed single mother and even the government researchers than with the kids. Shifting to parenting, he describes handling discipline through conversations about consequences rather than punishment, being impressed by his teens' self-regulation with social media, and missing the portability of younger children more than the sleeplessness. He admits he never kept journals—unless there was a chance to get paid for writing—but loved the sense of renewal around back-to-school rituals. Ultimately, Moe says parenting has taught him that raising kids, like jazz, is improvisation, and he once even wrote a Sharpie “P” on his hand as a reminder to practice patience.

In this episode of Parenting Is a Joke, John Moe talks to Ophira Eisenberg about raising three kids while juggling multiple jobs in public radio, writing, and podcasting. He recalls his parents' Norwegian roots, including summers spent above the Arctic Circle and the bone-dry humor of his father, whose jokes sometimes landed days later. Comedy became the family's shared language, even as emotional expression was stifled at home, and Moe admits he often repeats phrases from his parents—like telling his kids to “snap out of it”—despite his professional focus on mental health. He describes how having a third child “broke” him in a liberating way, leading to their move from Seattle to Minnesota, where three-kid families felt more culturally normal. The conversation weaves through memories of Carol Burnett and Monty Python, misheard church greetings like “Metellina Moe,” and the difference between depression and simple misery, before circling back to Moe's mission of making space for open conversations about mental health—work informed by losing his brother to suicide. The episode closes with Moe comparing shifting stigma around therapy to societal changes in littering and drunk driving: slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Rachel Dratch joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about raising her 13-year-old son Eli, reflecting on how his confident, social personality contrasts with her own bookish teen years. She recalls once assuming she wouldn't have children, only to be surprised when a channeler predicted she'd meet someone and have one child—a prophecy that eerily came true when she met Eli's father months later and became pregnant at 44. Rachel discusses the challenges of managing screen time, joking about how her hierarchy of goals slid from “read a book” to “at least watch TV instead of TikTok shorts.” She shares how Eli's friendships overlap with the kids of fellow SNL alums Amy Poehler, Tina Fey, and Emily Spivey, and how he joined her as her date to the Tony Awards when she was nominated for POTUS. The conversation also covers her son's passion for basketball, her abandoned dream of playing cello for him, and Halloween costumes she still brags about years later—including a homemade Doritos bag. A recurring theme is Rachel's mix of skepticism and bemusement around the supernatural, from crystals in her pocket to Eli's deep pronouncement that “time isn't real.” The episode ends with her warning against trampoline parks, after two of Eli's birthday parties ended with ER visits.

Comedian Jordan Carlos joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about parenting two kids with very different personalities—his 10-year-old daughter, a perfectionist baker supplied with Costco-sized vanilla extract, and his six-year-old son, who polices Halloween candy wrappers with post-it notes. Jordan shares how his daughter's three grandmothers got her hooked on baking, and how his son's sharp eye caught him sneaking Whoppers late at night. The conversation moves into the emotional leap from age eight to ten, the Simon & Garfunkel “Hello Darkness” phase, and balancing attention between siblings. Jordan also compares Black and White Thanksgivings—Dallas versus New Hampshire—while marveling at his in-laws' quiet avoidance of conflict. He tells a wild story about losing his wallet while paddle boating on Governor's Island, diving into the muck to retrieve it as his son scolded him for swearing. From babysitters drinking beer on the job to a childhood broken arm he let heal on its own out of fear of getting in trouble, Jordan reflects on rule-following, parenting negotiations, and the strange privileges kids have today. The episode ends with Jordan imagining how much more his kids might care about U.S. history if Taylor Swift told the story of Ellis Island.

On this Parenting is a Joke snack episode, ​head-writer of Jimmy Kimmel Live! Danny Ricker joins Ophira Eisenberg to talk about how his work and family worlds overlap in unpredictable ways. He shares how writing jokes for Kimmel during the pandemic meant working from his garage while his kids crashed Zoom meetings, and why pitching jokes with a toddler tugging on his sleeve changed the whole dynamic of the room. Danny recalls how his children's blunt feedback sometimes lands harder than a network note, and how bedtime stories often turn into test runs for monologue material. He describes the strange pride of seeing his kids repeat late-night style jokes at school, including one about Guillermo that got surprisingly big laughs on the playground. The conversation comes full circle when Danny admits the most nerve-wracking audience he's ever faced isn't Jimmy, the network, or a celebrity guest—but his own kids at the dinner table.

In this episode of Parenting is a Joke, Ophira Eisenberg talks with Danny Ricker, head writer of Jimmy Kimmel Live and author of Wow, You Look Terrible: How to Parent Less and Live More. Ricker shares how the book's title came from the daily mirror shock of his early parenting years, when exhaustion rewired him permanently into a 5:30 a.m. riser. He describes raising two kids—an 11-year-old daughter who now bonds with him over The Simpsons and an eight-year-old son who still delights in simple joys like rocks—while recalling how his wife and he started dating at 15 and played husband and wife in a high school production of Neil Simon's Rumors. The conversation touches on his long career at Kimmel, his obsession with productivity and self-help books, and his favorite invention from his own parenting survival guide: the “purgatory cabinet,” a foolproof system for making unwanted toys disappear. By the end, he explains why tossing one Lego a day might be the most effective jailbreak from clutter, comparing it to tunneling out of prison “one scratch at a time.”

In this snack episode, Andrea Marie talks about what it's like dating as an empty nester after her “Zoom divorce” during the pandemic, and how she approaches relationships differently in her fifties—more confident about saying no, more aware of her priorities, and less interested in rushing toward marriage. She shares the efficiency of dating apps (though admits to fantasizing about faking an ankle injury to escape a bad hiking date), the humor of having a boyfriend eight years younger who referred to things as being from “her era,” and the fact that she has still never received a dick pic. Andrea contrasts her own parenting years with today's challenges, especially the role of phones and social media, and recalls her kids joking about her “weird rules,” including banning SpongeBob and punishing them with a month-long Walgreens ban over a two-for-one candy fight. She reflects on moments of losing her temper—her kids nicknaming her “crazy eyes”—but also on the joy of finding the right activities, like her son's lasting love of Ultimate Frisbee. The conversation closes with Andrea laughing at the memory of strategizing free Bible camps as summer childcare, a reminder that resourcefulness (and comedy) often go hand in hand in parenting.

In this Parenting is a Joke episode, comedian Andrea Marie talks about founding the Moms Unhinged Comedy Tour after becoming an empty nester and realizing she finally had the freedom to hit the road. She shares with host Ophira Eisenberg how her unconventional upbringing with a prank-loving mom who once greeted boyfriends in a gorilla costume—and even trained as an Italian-style clown—shaped her sense of humor. Andrea describes her first career as a Facebook marketing expert and author before pivoting into stand-up, where her earliest jokes came from midlife crises and parenting fails rather than ad campaigns. She reflects on juggling speaking gigs while raising kids, from blogging under an umbrella at water parks to arranging her schedule around school breaks. The conversation also covers her divorce, the loss of her mother, and the strange world of “cemetery surge pricing.” Andrea recalls wild moments from Moms Unhinged shows, like a woman breaking her ankle in Bend, Oregon, another falling down the stairs in Fort Dodge, and having to bounce a disruptive audience member in her hometown. She admits producing and performing can feel like being “the mom” of the show, but the sold-out theaters and grateful audiences—especially women new to comedy—have made it worthwhile. The episode closes with Andrea laughing about the Chardonnay shortages that nearly sparked a mutiny at Martha's Vineyard, proof that the “unhinged” part of the tour title is sometimes more literal than metaphorical.

In this Parenting Is a Joke snack episode, Ophira Eisenberg talks with bestselling author Domenica Ruta about the messy, improvised reality of writing and parenting while raising kids. Domenica describes how her creative process has nothing to do with 4 a.m. routines—rejecting Glennon Doyle's approach with a “bitch, please” and instead likening her schedule to a Jackson Pollock painting made of poop. She recalls pounding out an “ugly” first draft while pregnant, then facing the absurd parent math of paying more for childcare than she earned from freelancing. The two trade stories about breast pumps that seemed to chant insults—never encouragement—and even hatch the idea of a pump that offers affirmations instead of taunts. Domenica also reflects on the painful friend attrition after her baby shower, the pushback she got from publishers who didn't want a book about motherhood, and her insistence on telling her novel All the Mothers through many voices—including even babies' points of view. The conversation ends with her pride in shaping a book that reflects the real chaos and shifting center of family life, even if, as Ophira jokes, the next draft should just add a sniper.

Bestselling author Domenica Ruta joins Ophira Eisenberg on this episode to talk about her new book All The Mothers, and about the family dynamics that shaped her memoir With or Without You, including her relationship with her strong-willed, drug-dealing mother and her complicated bond with her father. She explains how turning those memories into a book forced her to confront the contradictions of love, resentment, and survival, and why she believes humor is sometimes the only way to tell the truth about painful experiences. Domenica and Ophira also discuss generational differences in parenting styles, from guilt and rage bubbling up in small daily battles to the impossibility of living up to “perfect parent” ideals. The conversation closes with Domenica recalling how readers insisted her father character must have been directly lifted from her own life—proof of just how thin the line between lived experience and literature can be.