Betty Draper doesn’t take any crap. Well, until she booted Don out of the house last season, the “Mad Men” matron took a lot of crap from her two-timing husband. Rather, stay-at-home suburban mom Betty doesn’t take any crap from her two oldest children, Sally and Bobby, and that brand of maternalism would make her practically an endangered species in America today. In nearly every episode, Betty sternly barks: “No,” “Go upstairs and play,” or “Don’t touch that”—and the rugrats actually listen.

This week’s movies—and really most movies in general, even in sometimes perverse ways—are about following your dreams, whether those dreams involve becoming a real boy like “Astro Boy,” creating history like “Amelia,” feeling significant as in “Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant,” or finding that lost passion for your nonexistent career with “Motherhood.” And if none of those things appeal to you, go read a book. It’s just like a movie but less pretty and with constant subtitles.

Ah, Double X. Welcome to the world of “alternative motherhood.” This week, Marie Myung-Ok Lee delivers an update on why she gives her nine-year-old son pot. Yes, nine. Yes, pot. Why? Well, he’s autistic and allergic. According to her, the marijuana helps him function. The pot is delivered daily by way of cannabis tea and pot cookies. (Oh, a tea party! How fun!) Four months since the start of this “experiment” in getting her kid stoned, Lee’s son, whom she refers to as “Cannabis J.,” has stopped eating his clothes and is significantly less prone to acting out aggressively in school; although, she says, his autism has “become more distinct.” Her conclusion?

“I don’t consider marijuana a miracle cure for autism. But as an amateur herbalist, I do consider it a wonderful, safe botanical that allows J. to participate more fully in life without the dangers and sometimes permanent side effects of pharmaceutical drugs; now that we have a good dose and a good strain.”

Great, I think, reading those words. Congrats on finding a good “dose” for your son. On the other hand, pot is ... natural. What do you think? Mothers Gone Wild or Mother Nature’s Treatment? [Double X]

I know we all have “Mad Men” fever these days. On the off chance that you have become desensitized while watching Betty Draper suck those cancer sticks and throw back cocktails with her bun in the oven, let me remind you once again that smoking while pregnant is hazardous to the baby. Wait? You already knew that? But in case you need just one more good reason to quit lighting up while knocked up, a new U.K. study about smoking while pregnant is likely to scare the s**t out of you.

A recent article in Marie Claire magazine narrates the stories of three divorced mothers who gave up custody of their children—Maria Housden left her girls to their father in order to recover from the death of one of her daughters, Elle Hull decided to leave her kids with her ex-husband so that she could rebuild her formerly-falling apart life, and Rebekah Spicuglia gave up custody in order to go back to school.

In Bad Mother, author Ayelet Waldman encourages women to aspire to be “not bad” mothers and resist the pressure to meet the extremely high standards of success that society has for women and motherhood. Waldman wants women to stop trying so hard and just be. She argues that mothers can and should be honest, flawed, and, yes, selfish sometimes—your ability to care for your children will not suffer.

Waldman’s book is a welcome change from the usual motherhood self-help nonsense that lines the shelves at Barnes & Noble. The book deal was struck after Waldman wrote a controversial piece for the New York Times‘s “Modern Love” column a few years ago. In “Truly, Madly, Guiltily,” she wrote about loving her husband, author Michael Chabon, more than their four children. Her confession came about after observing how many other mothers didn’t seem to have as active a sex life with their husbands, a fact she attributed to their focus on being moms rather than wives.

“I am a new mother of my fourth child. During the last couple of months of my pregnancy, my husband was uncomfortable having sex with me. I felt rejected, but kind of understood. This led to a good three months of no sex. By the time we DID it, it was awkwardly uncomfortable for me. I still felt like a whale. It is now two months since that first time, and we’re still not at normal speed. We used to have sex at least twice per week. The last time we had sex was three weeks ago. I feel rejected, further, and I have no confidence to initiate anything. I feel lonely and heartbroken. I love him, and I have no intentions of leaving him, but I can’t imagine allowing him to see me naked again. Is it possible to put off sex until I lose more baby-weight? I know that it could boost my confidence to tone up and give my body a good makeover. Can a relationship survive no sex during the time it would take to lose about 30 pounds?”—New Mom In Crisis, via email

“Did you know that Chicken of the Sea isn’t really chicken, little baby? I know! That’s crazy huh?!” [Los Angeles, 7/02/08]

Putting on pasties for the first time was fabulous. Putting on pasties for the first time while lactating—well, that was fabulous and messy. But no matter what, I refuse to turn them in!

Before I became a mom, I regularly emceed a bunch of New York-based burlesque shows (Starshine Burlesque, Le Scandal, and Red Hots Burlesque to name a few) and I found that audiences enjoyed my raunchy persona, a combination of Elvira’s boobs and wardrobe, Ethel Merman’s voice and Rudy Ray Moore’s mouth (and if you don’t know who Rudy Ray Moore is, I encourage you to get schooled immediately). But once I had a kid, everyone seemed to assume that I would change, that I’d become more, oh, I don’t know, virginal. I always thought that was kind of odd. After all, I had an 8 pound 12 ounce infant pop out of my vag, so there was no longer anything even remotely virginal about me (not like there had been before).