Beta Mom

Betamom's Rules of Betabitch Revenge

Betamom has some theories and revenge, vengeance, justice and good old fashioned gettin' what's comin' to ya.  

Here's the the first rule of Betamom: there is no Betamom.  Just kidding, I had to say it.  

The first rule of Betavengence: DONT MESS WITH MY KID

If you do, you will pay. Betamom does not endorse anything illegal or violent, but is here to tell you that old school justice can be had, if you think long and hard about it. This is how I approach it:

1. Don't dirty yourself in the process. Remember what your mother said, "Lie down with dogs, wake up with herpes." I'm paraphrasing here, but really, don't get herpes. You need to remain beyond reproach.

2. Betamom believes in "natural consequences," both with her kids and her enemies. For example; betaboy throws his bakugan at betagirl - he loses the bakugan. Natural consequences - hurt with the bakugan, lose the bakugan. It is less effective to lose TV for throwing the bakugan because TV wasn't part of the offense. That is to say, the punishment should fit the crime. 

3. Enlist some close friends. If you have close friends to enlist, you are already ahead of the game. If they are truly your friend, they will take up your cause as their own without your asking. The truest friendships are forged on the battlefield.  And Starbucks.

4. Play a long game. This is the most important one, so I will list it twice, since in my house we say things twice. 

5. PLAY A LONG GAME. While indulging your fantasies of humiliating someone in public may seem satisfying in the short term, the only thing you gain is a reputation as a crazy person. Quick, extreme retaliation will come back to bite you in the ass, and only Betadad is allowed to do that. 

So play a long game. The careful planning of your infiltration, undermining and resulting psychological destruction of your opponent will be ultimately more satisfying, far reaching and savory.  Why?

Because revenge is a dish best served over and over again in a slightly un-hygenic but long buffet line.  With no sneeze guard.

Betamom's coming to getcha.  You know who you are.

Betamom is Back (& forged her own signature for her unexcused absence, hoping this time to avoid detention)

Oh, Betamoms. 

Sorry to have just slacked off on you for the last year or so.  Two?  Who can say, when we last checked in we were going all Britney on the carseat and feeling sorry for Tomkat.  As if.  How a year can change things.  New shows.  New Paula.  New Tim.  New Tyra.  Fierceness taken to new heights in the comfort of our own Betabed.

Standards were lowered.  The New Hard Times allow Betamom to blend in more easily, as if the dirt of one's jeans (and hair and car and child's hair and teeth and dogs and dogs teeth...) as well as the sharing of clothes with Betateens, can be ascribed to Democratic ideals, Being Green, or the New Poverty.  Ha!

We might want to say, Alphamoms, we told you so.  Our day is finally coming.  The Beach Club Birthday Party is finally out of fashion.  Less is Less which has somehow become Enough, if not More.  But, slackers as we are, we all know the truth.  Sometimes dirt is just dirt.

Certain goals, however, were achieved in the past year hiatus.  All seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer were watched back to back for heightened gaiety.  (That's what the invitation to Cotillion notes, a Cotillion Betagirl will never again be invited to, after Betamom tried to pick her up from the Alpha Country Club wearing Jeans.)  Carpooling to Cotillion "heightens the gaity," did you know that?  So here we are, to heighten the gaiety.

Thanks for all your posts and comments.  In answer to all of you, and in no particular order of importance, we're glad if you're making betamom tshirts because we have no clean laundry.  We're glad if the Betamom Manifesto was quoted in USA Today, though Beta as we are, we didn't realize it until 3 years later, or today.  (And if you even think we are capable of providing that link, you are oh-so-clearly on the wrong site!)   We're going to have to pass on the Wife Swap TV Show offer, even though we found that super rewarding, since you don't have to be an alpha brain to understand the critical relationship between reality television and the Betasphere.

There you go.  All we have to show for the last year is this: we're still here, and apparently you are too.  So let's drink to both of us, even on a school night, even with drip coffee since we no longer can afford a latte, even if two different people did buy us the Starbucks Black Discount Card for our birthday. 

With no excuse and even less remorse but much fondness,

 

Betamom

Betamom vs. Snoring

I fell asleep tonight at 8pm. Who am I kidding - I fell asleep before 8pm. Betadad agreed to put the BetaKids to BetaBed so I could fall asleep. And what happened?

I woke up at 11pm.

Everyone in my family is snoring. BetaDad is snoring and rolling around. BetaGirl is snoring because the has a sinus infection that will hang around for the next month. BetaBoy is snoring because, well, I don't know why, but his feet are on his pillow and his head is hanging off the bed, and at that point, why worry about offending others - JUST GO AHEAD AND SNORE!

So amid the heavy breathing of my family, I did what any self-respecting BetaMom would do. I watched all the TV on my TIVO that I missed by falling asleep so early. That got me to midnight.

Which brings me to my question:

"Is midnight too late to take an Ambien CR?"

For those of you not familiar with the full line of Ambien products, Ambien CR is a controlled release version of the sleep aid, Ambien. For those of us who have trouble staying asleep at night, Ambien CR gives gentle sprinkles of sleeping fairy dust all night. (Ironically, it is said to cause sleep-eating of Sprinkles cupcakes.)

The truth is, I have already taken it. As my typing torpoor increases, I know I am going to have to wrap this post up soon, lest I fall out of my chair, but I am left wondering...

Did I just doom my kids to a late morning to school?

If so, did it really have anything to do with the Ambien?

*Betamom is not a doctor, and judging by the number of prescription pills she has in her bathroom, she is not a good judge of medicine or medical practices. Betamom does not receive kickbacks for promoting Ambien CR, but would consider it if an offer was to be made.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Ease back in to it...

I've got a little problem with Christmas Sweaters. It goes like this: I saw the Commish while I was running today. He noticed my double-take and gave me a "I can tell you recognized me - don't call me the commish - keep on running little lady" sort of grimace/smile. Like, I'm old, right? And the Commish, he would be my hot guy?

Then today I had a meeting with the Christmas Sweater Set. We discussed our annual event for Nameless Childrens Charity. As I looked around the room, I realized that I was the age of many of their daughters and this threw me into an exsistential tailspin. I can tell I am headed for it - the question every sane westsider under 50 asks themselves:

Why am I hanging out with such old moms?

I am not old. I used to be cool. Why am I hanging out with these women who wear jeans with front butt technology? Where are all the cool moms?

I have some theories. I could list them, but I am bored already, so let's say it has something to do with money, being the second wife and the time it takes to land a man, get him to divorce his wife, take some hormones, pump out some babies and get them into school. Then let the philanthropy begin!

I guess if I moved to Silverlake or somewhere cool, there would be more cool moms. Then maybe I wouldn't be the coolest mom. There would be unspoken competition for who is the coolest and I would start caring about what I wear to school, and what are my plans for the weekend, and where I have lunch.

It would be high school all over again.

Christmas Sweater Ladies, this photo's for you. Snaps to amandabauer.blogspot.com

That's why it's called BETAmom.

For all of you who discussed the fact that having a blog is inherently alpha, not beta. I'll show you. I will start a blog, post obsessively, then avoid it for six months.

That's beta.

That's how I roll.

So Long Summer

The fog rolled in today.

We are almost through with the dreaded First Week Of School, but I was in denial. I thought we would have another month of summer bliss. I expected sunshine until bedtime, the beach after school, sitting on the grass until it's time to go to bed. All that is gone now. I am wearing a sweatshirt for the first time in three months. I am in mourning.

Here are the things I will miss about summer:

1. Didio's Blood Orange Italian Ice - a superfantastic summer treat, also good in their Iced Iced Tea. It has been replaced by the atumnal Pomegranate.

2. Marie Callender's peach pie. Get it while you can.

3. The glaring sun and terrible service at Back on the Beach. Sand in my Pasta Greco never tasted so good. We have lost one wedding ring and one pair of glasses at that restaurant, making it the most expensive restaurant we have ever been to.

4. White pants. I don't care if they make the junk in my trunk look lumpier.

5. Tan feet will turn white. If you have a nice pedi, all is forgiven, but all feet are strange, and they look better with a real tan. Preferably with a tan line from the sandals you have been wearing all summer.

6. Tomatoes. Goodbye ripe, sweet, juicy tomatoes. Hello mealy, syrofoamy, acidic replacements.

Crusin'

You should get a bike - it will make your life better. Get outside once in a while.

You don't have to be a hardcore mountain biker, and you don't have to wear a skin tight lycra outfit. We would prefer that you didn't. Just go to Helen's and get a bike, a helmet, and a pair of bike shorts that have padding in the tush. (Wear them under your shorts if it is too scary to wear them alone.) Get on that bike and just go!

Bike to the beach and lie out for 30 minutes. Bike to the SM Pier and eat a hot dog on a stick. Go ahead, you earned it! Bike to Didio's and get the blood orange italian ice. Bike to SusieCakes on San Vicente and have a red velvet cupcake.

The point is, you will feel better if you get outside. You will burn a few calories and can then justify eating a naughty treat. What could be bad? (Just don't get hit by a car.)

Biking - it's good for the soul.

...blowin' through the jasmine of my mind

Summer is here and betamom has hardly had a thing to say. Why? Because the summer breeze blew away my angst, or at least the people that cause it. Bye bye, stressful mothers and mean children - summer is not for you. The sun is out, I no longer have to get my tan sprayed on, my kids can play outside, and I have not seen anyone from school. I have not scheduled playdates or made calls to keep in touch. So long, suckers. I will have enough of you in the fall. This is my time right now.

I went to Italy and ate fresh vegetables every day. I swam in the blue Agean Sea. I rode a bike with the kids in a buggy to get ice cream. I ate ice cream too. I gained a few pounds and instead of heading for the gym, I went to the gap outlet and bought bigger shorts. I spent time in the mountains and went to a farmer's market.

I bought cheap jewelry from hippies and remembered that I used to be one. This Betamom used to leave college and follow the Grateful Dead around the western half of the country. I used to be a free and open person. Somewhere towards the end of my second senoir year of college, it happened. Maybe it was reading Atlas Shrugged, maybe it was the fact that my major required alot more library time than your average, say, anthropologie major. Regardless, that's when it began -

I became cynical.

Becoming a mom didn't help. It's wasn't the kids - it was the other mothers. The endless competition, your baby doesn't walk? Mine walked at 9 months. The unsolicited suggestions that nibble away at your self image, your should call my hair color guy - he's the best blonder in LA. The commentary on your house It's nobody's dream house (yes, someone acutally said that) your nanny, kids, school of choice, whatever.

Somewhere between Atlas Shrugged and you ladies picking on me, I became cynical and defensive. I learned enough about politics to run for congress. And it has all led to this ephipany:

I like riding a bike. I like eating vegetables. I like being outside.

In other words: I give up.

So here it is, ladies - my new manifesto. (Yes, Betamom enjoys a manifesto). This summer is going to last all year. When school starts, I am not volunteering for anything. I am not playing social games. I am not going to be on anyone's side. I withdraw. All that time I spent doing those things will be used riding my bike to the beach, going to the farmer's market, taking my kids to the park, and napping. This year I will let my hair be brown, and I will not be wearing a suit to any event. Not even a "wear your suit or go to jail party." I will only hang out with nice people that like me. I will not have anyone mean in my house.

I am sure that in September we will run into each other and you start in on the lastest school scandal. You may be too self involved to notice my faraway gaze. Do I look like I am listening? Rest assured I am not listening to you, but rather to the summer breeze, blowing through the jasmine of my mind.

Peace,

Betamom

Teacher Gifts

Dilemma: What do you get for the teacher that has set your child's social skills back a year, while still maintaing your standing in the school? What is the gift that is the secret f-you to the teacher, but one that she can't complain about?

Some ideas:

Barnes and Noble Gift Card
message: The books in your classroom suck. (This must be of a sufficiently low denomination to indicate your displeasure, while not appearing to be an outright insult.)

Decorative Candles
message: I found this already wrapped at the Pottery Barn.

Smelly Soaps
message: You stink

The Bad Seed

(A story about BetaBoy, 3 years old, as might be told by BetaGirl, 5 years old)

Mommy lost all the keys to the car. Mommy drove us to the pechanic to get new keys. The key store had tiny models of her car and she would not buy us one. We ran around looking at the shiny new cars and BetaBoy threw his firetruck at one. Mommy said it was time to leave and BabyBoy walked right into the glass door. He screamed. We went to the car and I got in my carseat but BabyBoy would not go in his. He pulled Mommy's hair and she yelled, which made me laugh. A man came to our car and said that BetaBoy scratched one of the shiny cars and we were in trouble. Mommy told him our phone number and he walked away.

Mommy got in the car and cried.

I think she is having a grouchy day.