Are You A Mean Mommy?

Take our quick and easy 5 question test and find out!

Question 1

Your eldest child has begged and pleaded for four weeks straight to take trumpet lessons. You ask around but can’t find a loaner trumpet. Your eldest child tells you that the school music teacher has given him the phone numbers of local music stores that will lease trumpets. You hesitate. Eldest child swears that the only thing he can think of day and night, night and day, with every waking breath and even in his dreams is learning to play the trumpet. You finally agree on the condition that if you’re going to dedicate an hour of your valuable time driving to the music store and signing paperwork to lease a trumpet for which you have to pay forward the $75.00 three months fee (after which time you can cancel the lease), that said child will exercise dedication and persistence and continue trumpet lessons for at least three months. And, so that the paid lessons aren’t an absolute waste of time, child will also agree to practice every day for a measly 15 minutes. Child agrees.

After two weeks of trumpet lessons, eldest child announces that he’s frustrated and wants to quit playing the trumpet, that practice time is cutting into his farting-around time, and that - furthermore! - he never ever wants to hear another Miles Davis recording again. Ever.

Do you...

A. Allow him to quit. What’s $75.00? You can earn that in an afternoon digging ditches and picking corn. So he doesn’t like playing the trumpet? So what?

B. Explain that sometimes the beginning stages of learning any new skill can be challenging, and that he should try a bit longer, give it a fair chance, and he’s even likely to see improvement.

C. Empathize with his feelings while at the same time being very clear that a deal is a deal, and that in the future he should be very clear on the terms before entering into a contract.

D. Tell him to get upstairs and play the god-damned trumpet or else go out and dig ditches and pick corn until he can pay you back the $75.00.

Answer: If you chose anything other than A, you are a Mean Mommy. It doesn’t matter that you’re reflecting and validating his feelings, nor that you are rationally and reasonably teaching a valuable life lesson. You might as well tell him off the bat that his choices are to dig ditches or play the trumpet. Because that’s how it will all translate.

Question 2

Some of the girls in 4th grade are reading the latest quasi-sexual teen novel in which an intelligent and strongly independent high school girl meets a really hot but coolly cruel teenage vampire, and then over the next 400 pages the intelligent and strongly independent girl decides that the vampire dude is so awesomely cute and mysterious that she'd be willing to die for him - literally - to be with the cute guy forever and ever and ever.

Your precocious 10-year-old daughter is begging to read the book. Do you...

A. Let her read the book. What’s one more story about an intelligent and strongly independent teen girl willing to make the choice to kill herself for a guy who is, like, really really cute? You played with Barbie and Vampire Ken when you were her age and you turned out okay.

B. Explain that you’re okay with her reading this book but won’t allow her to read further into the series until you are convinced that she’s emotionally ready to handle the scene in book three where the teen girl and the vampire engage in violent, black-and-blue sex using live bats as bedroom toys.

C. Reflect and validate her feelings, and then offer to read the book at the same time so that you both can analyze and discuss the characters and their choices.

D. Reflect and validate her feelings, and then hand her a copy of Hippolyta and the Curse of the Amazons because no way in hell is she reading a teen-death-drama-of-cute-boys book yet.

Answer: Any attempt to stand between, moderate, mitigate, or critique the awesome cuteness of a seriously awesome and cute guy will most likely earn you at the very least a “You’re a Mean Mommy” sigh of disdain...even if your 10 year old is secretly happy that you won’t allow her to read the book because, really, she didn’t want to read the book and now she has a handy get-off-the-hook answer in response to any peer pressure from other girls (i.e., “My Mean Mommy won’t let me read the book.”)

Question 3

All the kids in the neighborhood go to Jimmy John’s house after school to jump on his trampoline. All the kids jump on the trampoline at the same time. All the kids jump on the trampoline, and Jimmy John’s parents aren’t home. Everyone has been jumping all year while Jimmy John’s parents weren't home, and no one has gotten hurt, and everyone has turned out “okay”.

Your kids ask if they can go to Jimmy John’s house after school to jump on his trampoline while his parents aren't home. Your answer is...

A. Yes!

B. No

C. Hell no

D. No way in hell no

Answer: I think you’re getting the gist of this by now.

Question 4

Your almost-3 year old toddler, Little Clive, is playing with the trains at the Thomas The Tank Engine table at a local bookstore. Because customers often walk off with the trains like they think they are free party favors or something, there are only five trains left for kids to play with. And your toddler, Little Clive, has all five of them. Another young child walks up to the table and stands patiently waiting to play with a train. Then his mommy shows up and helps the young child to “ask politely” to play with one of the trains.

Your almost-3 year old, Little Clive, is not good at sharing and all past attempts to cajole him into sharing have resulted in an hour-long, 156 decibel, tooth and nails tantrum.

What do you do?

A. Apologize profusely, but then explain to the other child that Little Clive is not quite three years old and doesn’t know how to share yet, but that you’re certain he’ll be ready to learn to share within the next three to six months and at that time he’ll be happy to let him play with the trains.

B. Apologize profusely, but then explain to the other mother that from what you've read in the newly published book on toddler development, some almost-3-year-olds aren’t developmentally ready to share, and that really, Little Clive psychologically equates removing a toy with removing an arm or a lung - his identity is that connected to the objects he possesses - and that the resulting separation anxiety from forced toy-removal could have long-lasting effects even into next month, and that you’re certain he’s showing signs that he’ll be ready to learn to share within the next three to six months and at that time he’ll be happy to give her son a train to play with.

C. Pretend that you’re deaf and blind and from a non-English speaking country and can’t understand sign-language and that you're in a Teflon bubble.

D. With a happy face and a kind tone and sincere joy in your heart, announce to Little Clive that another child is here to play. You can say things that will help Little Clive problem solve, like, “You have five trains, and he has no trains to play with; what can you do to help him have fun and play with the trains, too?” Or you can say things to help Little Clive begin to learn to be aware of other people’s expression of emotion, like “Uh-oh! The other little boy looks sad. He is not smiling. He is looking down. He is sad because he has no train to play with. I bet you could help make him happy by letting him play with a train.” You can add a twist of controlled autonomy: “Little Clive, which train would like to share with the little boy - the blue train or the red train?” God help me, you can even sweeten the trade with a bribe just to get Little Clive past the point of thinking that his toys are valuable organs or appendages: “Little Clive, if you give that little boy a train, I’ll go to the cafĂ© and get four packets of sugar for you to eat.” But at the end of the day, Little Clive will give up one of the trains, even if it means carrying a scratching-biting-screaming almost-3 year old through the store, to the exit, your five-dollar venti latte left behind at the train table.

Answer: If you chose D, your child will think you’re a Mean Mommy. If you chose A, B, or C, most other parents will think you’re a Mean Mommy. There is also the possibility that some customers will think that you’re a Mean Mommy for even bringing kids into the store, but in that case I say screw’em.

Question 5

It’s summer! Hurrah Hooray ! Calloo Callay! After eight months of needing to kick kids out of bed with air horns and sirens, you wake to find all three of your lovelies up at dawn, already having fed themselves (from the look of the dishes all over the table and the open milk carton on the floor), already dressed (from the tell-tale sign of the pajamas scattered all over the floor and the over-turned basket of clean laundry) and already planted in front of the television watching Nick Jr. for some time (from their slack-jawed appearance and first digs into mid-morning snacks.)

What do you do?

A. Nothing! Ah summer! Ah youth! Ah blissful days of innocence and free-wheeling freeness! There will be time enough for “have-to” and “must” and “do this, or else”. There will be time for studying and then jobs and then being beholden to mortgages and other debts. There will be time for days spent in worry and pain and the hard emotional labor of caring for every other person's needs before your own. There will be time for all the works and days of hands that lift and drop a question on your plate. And indeed there will be time to wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, with a bald spot in the middle of their hair…. (Thanks to T.S.Eliot for this parenting tip.)

B. Immediately call a family meeting. Discuss expectations, put forth that television time will be reserved for rainy days, ask them to outline their plans for getting their butts out-of-doors each day, draft a chore chart which includes laundry and dishes, and be explicit that unpleasant consequence will follow swiftly and consistently anytime you find an open carton of milk on the floor. Etc.

C. Let them have a day of debauchery. The next day, call a family meeting, discuss expectations, put forth that television time will be reserved for rainy days, ask them to outline their plans for getting their butts out-of-doors each day, draft a chore chart which includes laundry and dishes, and be explicit that unpleasant consequence will follow swiftly and consistently anytime you find an open carton of milk on the floor. Etc.

D. Let them have a week of debauchery, after which you’ll call a family meeting… (see answers B and C). Etc.

Answer: A - You may very well raise a household of slacker poets who will never leave your house and who will consign you to a life of paying for and then picking up open milk cartons from your floor when you should be spending your retirement time and money in Aruba. However, they will write glowing odes singing your praise which will, unfortunately, probably never be published.

B, C, D - You will spend the summer in a clean-ish house with grumbling but physically fit children. At some point, you will most likely happen upon some “intentionally” stray papers scrawled with lines of angry, self-indulgent free verse describing the unfairness and stupidness of life. Make sure to buy a good thesaurus and leave it somewhere the kids will stumble upon it - maybe next to the milk carton on the floor. (You might even want to be helpful and highlight the pages that include “servitude” and “insipid”.) Prepare yourself for the day when your hard-working and disciplined children announce that selections from their collection of sonnets entitled Mean Mommy will be published in next month’s Poetry magazine.

Congratulations! If even one of your answers put you in line with the Mean Mommies, then yuppers! YOU are a Mean Mommy. Your children may still grow-up to be self-centered, lazy, inconsiderate boobs who don’t exercise good discretion when making choices (and it can happen to the best of them during the hormonal onslaughts of pre-teen and teen years), but at least you can say you've tried your darndest. Chalk-up any personality glitches to recessive genes, and just shrug your shoulders and grab a beer when any Nature-Nurture debates come up.

In fact, grab one for me, too.

And look! There's even a blog entitled Mean Mommy! And blogger sans pareil, Slouching Mom, recently revealed that she, too, is a Mean Mommy. And another from Heidi Hess Saxton via Extraordinary Moms Network, RIP, Mean Mommy. So worry not, Mean Mommies. Stand tall and proud! You are in good company! Give your kids ice cream for dinner once in a while, just to keep them guessing.


Meg McCormick said...

The vision of you pouring sugar packets down Little Clive's gullet next to the train table in the bookstore is priceless.

Your helpful quiz indicates that I am a mean mommy... but I already knew that. My kid told me so.

Now, where's my beer?...

Amy said...

This is so funny. (I'm MOSTLY Mean Mommy.)

Auds at Barking Mad said...

Oh hell yes I'm a mean mommy...I've been wearing my mean mommy badge, and proudly, for more than 20 years now.

This was very funny...and then even funnier because of how true it is.

Amy linked me over and I'm glad she shared the link on Twitter. Nice to see a convergence of other mean mommies!

Jill said...

Oh, I am such a mean mommy. I had a post up about it last week, but it was a not so subtle dig at my ILs and someone who knows my SIL recently found my blog and now I'm all paranoid, so I took it down. Which sucks because it was good. But not as good as yours. The end.

p.s. Mean mommies rule!!

Kath said...

Mean Mommies Unite!

The chore / expectation / incentive charts are in the works as we speak.

I would have happily loaned you my trumpet. I still will if there's time to get back your $75. I also have some way cool high-school and college pep band music I can share. said...

Thanks Kath! We'll have to compare notes so that we can head-off any, "but NOBODY else I know has to do x as a chore." heh heh

The trumpet, btw, is mostly symbolic of any musical instrument. However, if you do have a drum kit to loan, we might need it in the near future.

Mad said...

I'm mean. Mean to the bone.

You're funny. Funny to the funny bone.

Kimberly said...

I heaved a big sigh. Mine are only 2 1/2 an 4 mos, but I can see all this coming down the pike. And re: Little Clive, I have been known to "pack-in" bribes when going to the train table bookstore.

Kyddryn said...

Whoa, your bookstore has a train table? Little Clive needs to get down on his chubby knees and thank Biblios! All our local bookstore has is...books!

I am a mean mommy, and I didn't even have to take the test. It's good to have a purpose in life.

Shade and Sweetwater,

anne said...

Ooo. I think I might be way off the charts in Mean Mommitude. I'm sure my lovely, sweet, darling daughter - who, by the way happens to be chock full of character due to her many, many years of suffering my mean mommyness - will be more than happy to chime in when she reads this.

You are too, too funny.

Kat said...

My almost 3 year old's favorite saying right now is "Mom, you mean" SOoooo I pretty much can say I am a mean mommy.

Fairly Odd Mother said...

Don't scream but my next door neighbor is giving us her pre-used drum kit, in fine condition, absolutely free. This means they'll probably love it until they need to "upgrade" and I have to buy them a larger kit, at which time they'll quit.

And, you know what a mean mommy I am? I make my daughter DO MATH! Can you imagine?! Who even uses math anymore? It's archaic!

Sara said...

I was all prepared to loan you the trumpet from *our* trumpet failure. Pretty much same exact deal. In fact, I was trying to learn at the same time in order to offer moral support. He kept 'forgetting' to go to class.

Seriously, are you talking about my kids?

I'm so mean my kids couldn't even play with the trains at all. *And* they had to listen to me lecture about all the nose picking kids who'd probably already touched and sneezed on the trains before we got there.

Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

I'm so a mean mommy. Coincidentally, I blogged about it in a roundabout way just today.

No college kid will be spending the summer sleeping until 2 on my watch.

Kimberly said...

I am SO a mean mommy. Play your freaking trumpet, no trampolines EVER and you can read Twilight when your 13 like your sister did.

And clean your damn room for God's sake!

Sarah said...

You had me laughing so loud my daughter came to see what I was doing. I told her I was reading about mean mommies. She looked at me in horror and rolled her eyes.

Angela said...

Yes I am a mean mommy too.

Unknown said...

My name is Heidi, and I'm a Mean Mommy.

Heidi Saxton said...

What a delightful blog! Thanks so much for the nod -- I'll be stopping by again soon!

Heidi Saxton
AKA "Mommy Monsters"

Heidi Saxton said...

P.S. Have you read "Confessions of a Slacker Mom"? She takes Mean Mommying to a whole new level!


Cynthia Samuels said...

This is just great! I found you through the Always-Right and Lovely Mom-101 and - she was Right.
Anyway, this is a great post. As a Former Mean Mommy, now Emeritus, you brought back familiar moments and offered a magnificent menu of solutions.... Oh that you had been around to offer a few (wise and rueful) laughs like this 20 years ago.....

I can't find my blog said...

I'm a mean mommy too!!! Yea us!

S said...

Snicker. Yep. You got me. Mean mommy.

Anissa Mayhew said...

I am a paragon of one could EVER call me a mean mommy. Not my kids (because they're duct-taped to the wall), not my husband (because I have threatened to keep his balls in a mason jar if he crosses me this week) and DEFINITELY not Child Protective Services (who learned that taking my kids for a week is not a lesson, it is a VACATION FOR ME!).

I am a good and kind mommy. The lady at the bottom of my vodka bottle says so.

Julie @ The Mom Slant said...

Being a mean mommy is my full-time job, and I'm angling for a promotion.

Chicky Chicky Baby said...

Damn, my kid hates me because I won't buy her Lucky Charms. I guess that makes me a Mean Mommy! Huzzah!

Diane J. said...

Where's the Mean Mommy Badge? I really need one of those. As my 14-year-old son likes to tell me "You're ruining my life!" "Ah, yes dear son. It's mandatory that I make your life as miserable as possible, I had to sign a contract before bringing you home from the hospital. Now, mow the lawn and if you miss a spot you'll have to fix it with scissors." I'm sure he heard some cackling as he walked, hmmm, no, stomped away.

shriek house said...

You know that book 1-2-3 Magic? I sort of do that, but it's more like 1-2-3 MEAN MOMMY.

unmitigated me said...

Not only am I a mean mommy, I am a mean teacher! Extra points for me! The word verification is "uroclog." It sounds like the name of a UTI.

Unknown said...

so needed this today.. yes I am so totally like OMG mean, was back in the day when I refused the I need at least 3 freezie rants, and will be on 5 wedding day cheque book signings, only to find my inner good witch of the north when grandkids arrive


Briar said...

This is brilliant.

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