Dear Super Moms...Bite Me.

If you are connected to any sort of social media whatsoever, you’ve seen the recent posts.  Mothers telling girls not to post “sexy” pictures; mothers telling girls to love their body; mothers talking about the train wreck that is Miley Cyrus…you get the point.  Mothers everywhere are trying to rule the world!

Here’s my thing…butt out.  I don’t know about the other moms out there, but I really don’t need you to parent my child for me.  I get the whole “it takes a village” idea, but the cold hard fact is it really just takes a parent.  Because nobody knows your child better than you.

Those moms who try to mother the world are the ones I call “mean moms.”  One of my all-time favorite sitcoms was “The New Adventures of Old Christine,” starring Julia-Louis Dreyfuss.  (Hilarious, by the way…if you haven’t watched it, do it now.)  In the show, she was regularly belittled and taunted by two other moms in the school whom she called the mean moms.  They were hilarious, but also very on-point.

Every school has them – those overly-involved super moms who volunteer for every job, buy the teachers extravagant gifts, bake made-from-scratch cupcakes for the class, and snub their noses at any mom who doesn’t live up to their expectations or fawn all over them.  They assume that they know more than the others and that their child is smarter, sweeter and prettier than everyone else.   And then they try to tell all of us how we’re doing it wrong.

Here’s the rub:  those girls with parents like that…they in turn become the mean moms!  I’ve said it before…mean girls become mean moms (or in the case of Lindsey Lohan, bat-shit crazy).  When you are pampered and petted and told over and over and over how wonderful you are, it doesn’t make you a better person.  It makes you a conceited, self-absorbed person.  You assume you are better than everyone else and that it is your job to tell all of us how great you are.  Guess what?  I. DON’T. CARE.

Don’t get me wrong…everyone needs advice every now and then.  Heaven knows I do on a regular basis.  But I don’t get on the Internet for it.  I call my sister, or my best friends, or my husband, or I pray. (Hey, there’s a novel idea…pray! Duh.) I ask the people who I know personally and have watched raise normal kids in normal circumstances.  Real people.  And then I use what I can, toss out what I can’t, and do the best job I can.  Yes, I fail on a regular basis, but you know what?  My kid is still living and breathing and is reasonably sane.  WINNING!!  If I can get her to 18 with a high school diploma, no jail time and no rehab, I’ll be happy.  The rest is just the icing, my friends.

So here’s my deal with all you friends out there: if you ask my for advice, I’ll give you the best I’ve got.  And if I need advice from you, I’ll ask you for it.  To everyone else, you take care of your kids and I’ll take care of mine.  I’ve got this.

 

My "normal" kid.

Ain't she great?