Beta Mom

Deadbeat Brownie Moms Unite!

Okay, I have to be honest. I am a Brownie Leader. I know, I know. That's so Alpha it's not even funny. But all you Beta Moms out there, listen to me. It's time to rise up and spread the Beta word. Be a Brownie Leader. A Beta Brownie Leader.

Badges? Stand at the back of the room and offer to spray glue them on before the girls go home. Who sews? Who cares? I used spray styrafoam glue left over from the mission model. And you know what, except for one Alpha, every single kid wanted their badge glued on. Alpha mom: "Oh come on. I can do better than that at home."

Meetings? It's not supposed to be a birthday party. Since when in life did everything involving a child supposed to be a birthday party? You make crap out of popsicle sticks. You sing the Brownie Smile Song in super fast and super robot slow motion. Time flies when you're doing nothing at all.

Healthy Snack? Bite me. It's called BROWNIES for a reason.

There have been Brownie Moms at our school who have taken kids camping in a Hummer Limo, and that is not a joke. There have been Brownie Moms at our school who showed Troop Beverly Hills without a hint of irony. There have been Brownie Moms at our school who demanded that you sell 200 boxes of cookies or not participate at all.

Hello? It's called the Brownies, not the Hitler Youth. Beta Moms Everywhere, Unite! The Alpha Brownie Leader is a thing of the past, like the Clapper and the ChiaPet. Slack away! It's better for everyone! Especially the girls.

Be a Beta Role Model. Be like my troop. Use urine specimen cups for your Dues Banks. You'll all be happier, in the long run. And who knows? If we get enough Beta Leaders out there, maybe between us, we can take down the whole organization.

A big Brownie Smile to all my Beta Sisters,

Beta Mom

Kappa Kappa Kindergarten

Tomorrow is the first day of school for Betakindergartener.

Which, in Westla-speak, means -- Rush is on! Time to Rush Kindergarten. Tomorrow will Betakid pack the tried and true Pink Princess Lunchbox, which got her through pre-K -- purchased in a fit one day after you figured out that the reason your child wouldn't stay for Stay Days was because all girls without princess lunchboxes were being victimized by Alpha Miniature FTWs -- Future Trophy Wives? Or is the Princess Thing over yet? Is Hello Kitty a safer bet? It has a little Asian twist to it -- Paris Hilton would carry it. Or should you stay neutral in case black is the new pink?

Kindergarten Rush also means time for day after day of shoot-me-in-the-head, mommy and me playdates, the Kindergarten equivalent of the blind date. I don't know who it's more painful for, actually -- the kids who don't know each other and play at opposite sides of the over-pinked bedroom, or the mommies who don't know each other and have to prove how educated ("When I was at school in New Haven...," translation: Yale) how wealthy ("When we were in Idaho...," translation: the 6,000 square foot house in Sun Valley) and how down to earth they are. This can only go on for so long before you call yourself on your cell phone and leave.

Here's the best performance of last week's rush: a lovely couple, a kindly enough westla mother and daughter, meet you for a blind playdate for ice cream, "unless you belong to the Beach Club, where A Few Of The Other Kids (translation: "who are gentry like me") Are Meeting." Sorry, no. While they eat kiddie cones, Betakid wolfs it down and asks for a Large. (Has she not gotten the memo that nobody eats in this town? Have you done nothing right?) Not wanting to cause a scene, and possibly because you forgot to feed her lunch, you compromise with the Medium. The kids still do not speak to each other. Betakid finally crawls into Betamom's lap and comes up with her first words of the day, the classic line of all time, the ultimate Blind Date Torpedo:

"THIS IS BORING. I WISH I WAS IN MY ROOM PLAYING WITH LISA. CAN WE GO HOME NOW?"

"Who is Lisa?" asks the Blind Date Kindergartener. Her interest is piqued by Betakid's diss, because, like all good Westa-creatures, she only wants what she cannot have. Lisa is, in fact, the nanny's eight year old daughter, who is hanging out at your house because school is out for the summer and she has nowhere to go. Lisa was born in Guatemala, and has some marginal developmental disabilities that make her the ideal partner for playing ponies, drawing pictures, watching cartoons, just hanging out.

Betakid assures everyone, "Lisa is The Best Girl in the World."

The Blind Date is intrigued. "Mommy, can we go home and play with Lisa?" Blind Date Mom is trapped. What answer can anyone give in that situation but yes? Either you're racist, or you're phobic about disability, or you're rigid, or you're controlling. In any event -- you can guess what happens next.

In Betakid's super-pinked bedroom, Lisa reliably strikes up a game of My Little Pony make believe. Betakid, back in her comfort zone, sort of ignores the Blind Date. Blind Date Mom toughs it out gamely. She's being admirably Flexible. When you have to call her that night for the grand finale, to tell her that Betakid has a fever, and admit that you are also That Family, the Family Who Spreads Contagion Throughout Your School, she still manages to keep up that poker face. This woman didn't go to law school for nothing.

You think about calling to apologize, but then you realize - this is Rush. It's a test. Take advantage of the ritual screening process. If she ever speaks to you again, she's a match. She can rush Beta Beta Beta. You can pick up her kid late for carpool and get her to fax over the missing girl scout permission slip, no sweat. She's great.

And if she's not going to speak to you ever again, it's better you know now, anyways. Once an Alpha, always an Alpha.

So here's a last piece of advice. Suck it up. It's time to teach Betakid the facts of life. Sleeping Beauty has that Alpha hair. Snow White has that Alpha skin. Jasmine has those Alpha Abs...FTW's, all of them. Ditch the princess lunchbox while you have the chance. Eat the big cone. Play with the nanny's kid.

Rush Beta.

...And All These People Hate Me

There were six Room Moms in my grade this year. Two Full Time Jobs. One Alpha, One Beta. One Transitional (former working/Beta with chip on shoulder, moving into Alpha. They were not all awful. Dealing with them was. When asked if she was going to be a Room Mom again, T said “HELL NO!” Same with Alpha and Beta. FTJ #1 seemed to feel the same way, but was too hostile to even communicate that much with the other three. The remaining FTJ was too FTJ to be found.

One of the FTJs told the FTD that she had a problem with Betamom. Actually, she told the FTD, several teachers, other parents, etc. She hated the Alpha too, but truly, you have to find it somewhat interesting that she bothered to focus on a Beta. We usually get overlooked. The other FTJ, as well as the T, mostly focused their energy on hating the Alpha. But Alpha’s tend to organize a pack like that, by channeling the discontent. It goes with the territory. And Alphas seem to know they’re not going to win friends with their ruthless competence.

So, here’s the thing: is there such a thing as a good room mom experience?

Granted, if there was, I wouldn’t be the one to have it. But has it ever really gone well? Has a group of parents ever willingly worked together and not Hated Everything Everyone Does In A Verbal And Inflammatory Fashion And On A Highly Personal Level? Have we really ever learned to play with each other any better than the children? And why do we care so much about what the other Moms do and do not do?

What is really going on here? Why do we hate each other so much?

BetaMom’s Theories on Inter-Mom Tribal Warfare:

1. We resent your competence, and we’re scared of you, because you’re probably a bitch or
2. We mock your incompetence, and we think you’re a loser because you’re probably an idiot or
3. We resent kiss-ass teacher pets, and we see right through you because you’re probably a big phoney or
4. If the teachers hate you, we hate you too. You’re probably a nut case or
5. We’re jealous if you do something well, just because we probably didn’t do it or
6. We’re gleeful and spiteful if you do something badly, especially in front of the teachers. And we’ll make sure they know about it, or
7. We hate you for being cheap. We mocked your lameass Ralphs brownie plate or
8. If you’re a big spender, we accuse you of “not getting it,” or “ratcheting things up a notch.” We think you’re showing off or
9. We believe the things we hear about you, even if deep down we know it isn’t true or
10. We’re secretly suspect you already hate us, too.

The point being, we can either give up and not ever set foot in our children’s schools or we’re going to have to find a way to do this thing.

So here’s what BetaMom recommends: Truce. Pinky Square. Call it for what it is. We promise not to expect you to like us. We promise not to try to like or not like you. If you won’t believe everything you hear about us, we won’t believe everything we hear about you. At the end of the day, we’ve all bought brownies from Ralphs. And we’ve all thought about embroidering a pillow that says I Hate All These People.

It’s just none of us knew how to embroider.

I Hate All These People...

BetaBFF swears she is going to embroider me a pillow that says that. It’s all I say during the month of May, which as you know for Beta(Room)mom is the craziest, o.k. and by that I mean worst, time of the year, excepting the holidays. The End of School might as well be the End of the World; there is just that much crap to do. And just that many people to hate How You Are Doing It Which Is All Wrong On A Very Personal Level.

Beta(Room)Mom has to collect twenty miserable scrabbly little checks for the teacher gift, and that is always a shocker. It shouldn’t be. People are cheeeeap, no surprise there. Something about the anonymous collection aspect makes it seem meaningful, and sad; ie, deep down, when nobody is looking, people really just don’t give a crap about the teacher who may or may not have changed their child’s life. They just don’t give a crap, because nobody will know. It’s their sad little secret, something to know about one’s self. Deep down, you don’t value teachers, which is sort of like saying, deep down, you have to secretly admit to yourself you just don’t care about soldiers or policemen or even, on some level, your children. Or at least, not enough to give them more than you would give the UPS man. Because Nobody Knows. And let’s face it, you’re about to write that check for two or three summer camps, summer vacation, extra nanny time…because BetaNanny’s got to write her check for summer school, her sister’s wedding in Guatemala, extra babysitting time. And Nobody Will Know, anyway.

This is of course, delusional, because especially at Your School, Everybody Will Know, as that is the fallacy of the anonymous gift. Everybody Knows. Everybody Knows Everything. Everybody Knows when the other room mom has collected more for her aide than you have for your classroom teacher. You have to ask yourself, does this happen to you every year? Does this happen because you are Beta and less intimidating than Alpha(Room)Mom, who was collecting for the other class – and who is so Snap that she doesn’t even have to send out reminder emails, that’s how scared people are of her?

Which also brings up the topic of the End of the Year Teacher Gift, the actual gift, that you end up giving, on top of the cash. Did you also have to hide from the receptionist at the front desk because you stiffed her this year? (Just use the other door, that’s what I did.) Did you think the Head of School wasn’t going to notice whether or not there was a gift from you in the piles? (Maybe she will stop sending you Fruit of the Month now?) Did you break your own rule of consistency and not give to the Science Specialist for the first time in three years?

Here is the first ever Betamom Rule Set for End of the Year School Giving.

Do not be consistent. Never, ever give the same gift two years in a row, in particular do not give a Barnes & Noble gift certificate two years in a row. You overspent in a panic at the last minute, and now they think you are going to do it every year. If you do it twice, you’re doomed. You’ll be handing out the end of the year B&N bribe for the next seven years.

If you have already committed to the B&N bribe, don’t stop now! You will be Creating An Issue. It’s a sunk cost, suck it up, and shave a few bucks off each gift card, in hopes that they won’t remember how much, exactly, it was you sent in last year. Never forget that there is already at least one teacher out there who thinks you hate her, when you don’t necessarily even know her name and may or may not be able to pick her out on the street. But she has an Issue. She has Told People this. Don’t mess with the bribe, especially for the crazy aid. These people could blow at any second.

Do not stand out. Avoid branding. The goal here is to blend. You just want the check by your name. You don’t want the target on your forehead. It’s all fiscal evidence that will be used against you later when you are being hit up for something else. It’s like the internet, you just can’t take it back. Avoid the impulse to go Alpha. It will only bring you sorrow in the long run.

On the other hand, do not get 30 tall plastic jars of pistachio nuts from Costco and think the teachers will appreciate it. They won’t. A) they live at Costco and don’t appreciate Costco From You. And B) when you accidentally didn’t get one for you’re the Kindergarten teacher you don’t even have anymore or the Computer Specialist who hates you for being late every day, they will blacken your name anyway.

Do not forget to send in your check for the preschool teacher collection the same week you are trashing all the other BetaMoms for not giving to yours. It will just make you feel as crappy as I am feeling right now.

Do not keep thinking about this, not even one minute after the last half day of school. Let it all float away. You have bigger problems now. You’ve got to juggle all those swimming lessons, summer camps, all new drives, not to mention packing the big kids for sleepaway camp, passports for whatever that other part of Alaska touches…

And how long does a Guatemalan wedding take, anyways?