It takes a village idiot to raise a child, if In the Motherhood is to be believed. One woman leaves her daughters with a nanny who teaches them whale language. Another is too busy faking a pregnancy to get free coffee at Starbuck's to ever actually lay eyes on her kid. And the third is a June-Cleaver-gone-fascist who has raised her children to believe that sorting laundry is the highest form of self-expression.
The tedium and unoriginality of this new ABC sitcom, the latest entry in the vastly overworked motherhood-as-martyrdom genre, has to be seen to be believed, though my strong and sincere suggestion is that you just take my word for it. Unless you count quickie workplace sex with a guy who does bad Borat imitations, In the Motherhood does not have an original bone in its flaccid, postpartum body. Read my full and murderous review in Thursday's Miami Herald.