If Laurie Kilmartin's son has complaints about Mom mining their relationship for laughs, he doesn't share them. He has other priorities.
"I'll bring him on the road sometimes and he'll sit in the back of the club with his headphones on. He looks at it as an excuse to have unfettered access to his iPad," said Kilmartin, who performs at Acme Comedy Company this week. "He doesn't give a crap."
What the 12-year-old is missing is one of today's frankest, most hilarious stand-up routines, one that relies heavily on the frustrations and failures of a single mother.
"I remember when he was so tiny that he fit on the front step of a nearby church," she joked last year on "Conan," where she is a staff writer. One of her sharpest bits involves throwing her son into a swimming pool and not rescuing him until he begs for help in Spanish.
It's hard to imagine Kilmartin's predecessors, like Phyllis Diller, Joan Rivers and Moms Mabley, getting away with such daring material — let alone admitting they had a child at home. Roseanne Barr broke new ground with her "domestic goddess" act in the '80s, but she quickly abandoned the stand-up circuit to focus on a TV career (and tweeting).
But Kilmartin is part of a wave of red-hot comics committed to picking at the scabs left from every mother's war wounds, a trend also reflected in movies ("Bad Moms," "Girls Trip") and TV series (USA's "Playing House," CBS' "Mom").
Ali Wong shot to stardom with her Netflix concert "Baby Cobra," graphically describing what it was like to be nearly eight months' pregnant and how she dealt with a past miscarriage.
"Don't feel bad for me, OK? They were the size of poppy seeds," she said in the special, released on Mother's Day 2016. "I've picked boogers that were larger than the twins I lost."