Dear Snarky – Pokemon Go Away

Pokemon-Go-Full-Google-Access.pngDear Snarky,

I have a friend who is now calling me a stalker. We both have boys who are 9  and do a lot together. A couple of days ago I texted her about taking our boys out and doing Pokemon Go. She told me that she was already doing Pokemon as a family “team building” activity which I thought sounded weird, but whatever. THEN when I’m out with my son I see her with some other moms from school and their boys playing Pokemon. I parked my car to join them and I heard the mom, that I thought was my friend, whisper stalker.

I’m hurt and angry for my son that he was left out of Pokemon Go and furious that I was called a stalker. Should I confront my friend about it?

Signed, Pokemom

Dear Pokemom,

First, I’m going to tell you what you want to hear. The mom who called you a stalker is a jerk. Now get ready for some hard truths. I’m afraid the problem might not be all  the other mom’s fault. I could be wrong here, but you seem awfully needy and I’m going to guess that possibly you’re more upset that you weren’t included than the fact that your son was left out. So ask yourself why did you feel the need to join up with a group when your friend had fibbed to keep you away? Why didn’t you just keep on driving and have a blast playing Pokemon Go with your son and be done with it?

Attention mothers everywhere you don’t have to do everything in groups. It’s okay and a lot of times preferable to enjoy your child’s company without a gaggle of other moms around. Think back to your childhood did your mom coordinate everything you did to such an extent that each outing was a like a mother/child mixer?

My advice is to get over being called a stalker. Yes it was mean, but who cares. This woman doesn’t sound worth you expending anymore energy on. The fact that you now know this is a blessing. You need to focus on appreciating the things you can control like spending one-on-one time with your kids and not worrying about what everyone else is doing.

*If you have a question for Dear Snarky 21st Century Advice With an Attitude email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com or leave me a private message on my Snarky Facebook page.

Dear Snarky – Telling Off a Not Pregnant Mom Who Parks in the Expectant Mother Spaces

Dear Snarky,Parking-Signs-43456S04STDNRA-lg

I need your help in dealing with a woman who never follows the rules. School pick up and drop off she’s just doing her own thing. Volunteering – maybe she’ll show up maybe she won’t. Trust me I could go on. Now, in what I perceive as the final straw, she’s parking all over town in the spots designated for “Moms to Be” or “Reserved for Expectant Mothers.”

 This woman is NOT pregnant. I took over a lasagna dinner when she got a hysterectomy two years ago and she’s able bodied. All you need to do is look at her car plastered with the 26.2 marathon stickers. I’m dying to say something to her, but want your advice on how to do it.

 Signed, Rule Follower

 Dear Rule,

Well, let’s look on the bright side at least she’s not parking in the handicap spaces – right? Okay, I know that didn’t make you feel any better. So, back to what to say to the “I’m so important I don’t have to follow the rules” Mom. My strategy is to go for the simple yet effective straight up calling her out about it.

 I’d walk up to her and ask her why she continually parks in the maternity spaces. So she can’t brush it off as a, “Oh, I only just did it this one time,” comment be sure you let her know you’ve seen her do it MANY times.

 Next, wait for her to give you a lame and/or hostile answer and then smile very sweetly  and reply, “Well, the only reason I felt compelled to say anything is that I worry about you. You know, because you never seem to grasp the concept of what rules are and how to follow them. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

 And then walk away with your head held high secure in the knowledge that she knows that you know she’s an ass.

*Attention Snarky Friends, I have a brand new book out. It’s the second in the Snarky in the Suburbs series – Snarky in the Suburbs Trouble In Texas. You can buy it for your Kindle or in paperback on Amazon.  Click here for Nook or here for Kobo. Here’s a little lookie loo.

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Wynn Butler is ready to kill her mother . . . oScreen Shot 2014-12-29 at 11.01.47 PMr at the very least demand she gets a psych evaluation and an MRI. On Wynn’s yearly pilgrimage to Trask, Texas, to visit her parents what she hoped would be a relaxing visit (not counting the family reunion which has all the charm of a zombie apocalypse) has turned into a Texas-sized, hot mess!

 Her 69-year-old mother Gwynn Crockett Martin has become an entrepreneur and opened up a cupcake bakery that seems to be doing double duty as a halfway house for economically battered Junior League dropouts.

 If that’s not enough to make Wynn want to turn tail and run home, her mom is hell bent on convincing her to “heed the call of Jesus” and come to the aid of a woman that made Wynn miserable in high school – Sara Beth Bishop. And by aid, Wynn’s mother means concoct a plan to exact epic revenge on Sara Beth’s lying, cheating, spray tanning, money stealing ex-husband and his new wife, snob-of-the-millennium, Yale Greenly.

 Things go from bad to worse when Wynn finds herself embroiled in a scheme that involves breaking and entering, theft, assault, livestock wrangling, killer mold, impersonating a maid, hair spray bomb fabrication and crashing the town’s poshest society event of the year – THE Mohair Palace Pageant. If Wynn can survive this visit home without doing time in the ER, jail, or both, it will be a miracle!

 Hang on to your hat and saddle up for a retribution rodeo or, as Wynn’s mom calls it . . . “justice served up Lone Star style.”

 

 

Dear Snarky – My Daughter is Being Excluded Because I Don’t Believe in the Elf on the Shelf

b9787fff692e72467ad4fb95e3a7078bDear Snarky,

 I’m hurt, upset and really angry. My 6-year-old daughter wasn’t invited to her best friend’s Christmas party because get this – I don’t believe in the Elf on the Shelf. That’s right, because I, as a mother, have chosen to not doing the Elf thing, my child gets to be excluded from a party because there are going to be elf crafts etc.

 Any suggestions how to control my anger would be appreciated.

 Signed, Elf Hater

Dear Elf Hater,

Someone help me out here. Has the Elf on the Shelf drop kicked Santa Claus to the curb? Because spoiler alert here Santa’s the one who brings you all those presents. That said, the good news is your 6-year-old will get over it. In fact, I’m sure she’s already over it.

As for your fury go ahead and wallow it, stomp your feet, have a glass or bottle of wine and get it out of your system. You have every right to be momentarily ticked off about the IQ level of a mother who would exclude her daughter’s best friend based on whether or not her family embraced the nightly theatrical production that is the Elf on the Shelf.

I know some moms are going to argue with me that the Elf Mom had every right to not invite the little girl who comes from a family of non elfers. Their main point will be that you wouldn’t invite a child to a Santa Claus party if the kid didn’t believe in Santa.

Yeah, let me just tell you that argument is beyond lame (and just for the record I would invite any and all kids to a Santa party). The Elf on the Shelf isn’t based on a centuries old tradition of giving. It’s from a 2005 children’s book. So, I think advantage me on this one. And more importantly, in the spirit of this amazing time of year why would an alleged grown woman go out of her way to exclude a child?

Take a tip from this seasoned mother – you can’t go wrong being nice especially not at Christmas. Now, let’s all bring it in for a group hug.

*If you have a question for Dear Snarky email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com or leave me a private message on my Snarky Facebook page (click on the FB icon located at the top right hand of blog).

P.S. You are going to have to re-like Snarky on FB since my site got hacked. Thanks!

Dear Snarky – The Trick-or-Treat Throwdown

dear_snarky_logoDear Snarky,

My daughter just got bounced from a Halloween trick-or-treating group! 14 kids and six mothers were all going to go together to trick-or-treat. This has been planned since the first of October. All the girls are going as Disney princesses. My daughter is going to be Anna from the movie Frozen. Yesterday, I got a text message from a mom (who organized the trick-or-treating outing) telling me her daughter now wants to go as Anna and since it would be “weird” to have two of the same Disney princesses trick-or-treating together it would be “best if I found another group to go with.”

I’m so angry and upset for my daughter I wish I could do a throw down. How do I even begin to explain this to a six-year-old?

Signed, Can’t Let it Go,

Dear Can’t,

Don’t be angry and don’t, no matter how much you want to, engage in a throw down. Instead be happy, relieved and joyous. You, and your daughter, have been freed from spending Halloween with a bunch of evil, controlling witches. The fact that an adult would be such a freak about Halloween and what costumes kids are wearing, scares me, like a lot. And seriously, pretty much every little girl is going to be trick-or-treating as either Anna or Elsa from Frozen. The mom who sent you that text must have been off her meds.

The way I see it you can do one of two things – pick up the phone and find your daughter another kid or kids to trick-or-treat with or go just as a family and savor the experience. Also, on the plus side, I have found you can cover a lot more trick-or-treating ground when you are with a smaller group.

I would tell your daughter an abbreviated version of the truth, as in her Halloween has just been upgraded, and celebrate the news with a full size Kit Kat bar. As for that texting witch, I would get 48 rolls of toilet paper from Costco and decorate her house with it.

If you have a question for Dear Snarky – 21st Century Advice With An Attitude – email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com or private message me on my Snarky Facebook page.

Dear Snarky – Homeschool Mean Moms

dear_snarky_logoDear Snarky,

I have two kids, 8 and 10, and I have just started homeschooling. In an effort to keep my kids around other kids I joined several home school groups. My children love hanging out with the other homeschoolers. I, on the other hand, I’m losing my mind.

I thought one of the many benefits of homeschooling would be not having to deal will the PTA Mom drama etc., but this is worse. These moms are vicious, as in super competitive and talking trash about you behind your back while saying they love Jesus. Oh, and the worst are the group texts. When I get one my stomach starts hurting.

Should I suck it up and stay involved because my kids love the outings or do I do what’s best for me and get out?

Signed, Homeschool Novice

Dear Home School Novice,

You made a rookie mistake. Crazy is everywhere. You can’t hide from it. You can’t avoid it. Pretty much, you walk out the door and crazy is there waiting for you. Did you really think homeschooling would shield you from the mean moms? You’ve just traded the PTA meanies for the Jesus edition.

My advice is for you to try out a lot of different homeschooling groups and find one that is a better fit for you and your kids. Do not, I repeat do not, feel guilty about taking your kids out of the mean mom group. They may be having fun right now BUT if there is one thing I have learned, in a lot of cases, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Sooner than later, I’m sure a few of these kids will start displaying the same character traits as their mothers and that’s when things will really get ugly. Cut your losses now and make a run for it. As for those group texts I’d considering blocking some of those numbers. If anyone asks you why tell them your gastroenterologist  made you do it.

If you have a question for Dear Snarky please email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com

Ache Free

Screen Shot 2014-03-13 at 9.28.00 AM

Last week, I got a bruising social media beat down and not by discussing politics or religion. Oh no, this was a subject infinitely more volatile: motherhood. All it took was two words, one syllable each, to cause a firestorm.

A friend from back in the day had linked to a post a woman had written about her kids getting older and how she ached, painfully — desperately ached — for the days when they were babies. So, as you can guess, many moms were writing ooey gooey prose in the comment bar on Facebook about how they also ached for those baby days. The smells, the smiles, the spit up.

I, on the other hand, wrote my two words. Ache free.

Well, well, well, say hello to a blistering rebuttal of mom hate. Those two words give birth to a firestorm of comments on how I must suck at being a mother because I don’t ache to climb into a maternal time machine and re-live sleep deprivation and sore nipples.

At first, I was all “Holy crap” at the outrage and then I thought to myself let’s do this! Let’s really mix it up! They want ache. I’ll give them an ache right in the old backside. My first course of action was do what I would call a social media airstrike. One ridiculously, outrageous comment to take down (tick off) many. So I posted this: “Maybe I’m not aching because I’m proud of my children and parenting skills and don’t feel the need to go back in time to correct my mistakes.” Talk about a direct hit! The fallout was nuclear winter in it’s intensity. The angry, the hostility, the rage!

Then I focused on the most pompous targets. The most delicious was tweaking the “friend” that posted the ache link. You would have thought she was still clutching her now teenage children to her breast in an XL, steel reinforced, Baby Bjorn. Oh, how she went on and on about the halcyon baby days with her “precious munchkins.”

I have no problem with that. Every mother should look back fondly at those times. What did irk me was that she led the charge in leveling mom hate towards me when all I did was post – ache free. This woman called me a “baby hater” and then went all stabby with the statement that by being ache free I was a bad mother AND she felt “sorry for my children.”

Really? She felt sorry for my children because I don’t want them back in diapers. And this was from a women who had a skill, no, make that a talent, for eagerly leaving her children with other mothers. She’s the one who would invite her child over to your house for a playdate and then forget to pick them up for the next 16 hours. That’s why I had zero problems with posting this:  “@dmj I get why you’re aching. It’s probably guilt festering from 2003 when you petitioned the church to change their mother’s day out rules to accept babies at younger than six weeks so you could have more ‘me’ time.”

That’s right. I wrote that. Yes, it’s horrible but factual and I was thinking of the greater good. Someone needed to call these women out on their mom on mom hate campaign even if it was me adding lighter fluid to whole hot mess. This is what I don’t get – we’re all on this journey together so why do mothers feel the need to keep a constant vigil scanning the horizon for any chance to bring another mother down? Are we that insecure? I sure hope not.

Oh, and do you want to know why I typed ache free? It’s because as the mother of two teenagers every so often, I, get the briefest of glimpses, of what my children might be like as adults and it’s thrilling. More exciting than when they started sleeping through the night or took those first wobbly steps. These nano second glances into their future makes me not only ache free but joyous for what they might someday offer the world.

cover_1.3-2 *Attention Snarky Friends, I have a brand new book out. It’s the second in the Snarky in the Suburbs series – Snarky in the Suburbs Trouble In Texas. You can buy it for your Kindle or in paperback on Amazon.  It’s also available for the Nook or you can get it for your Kobo reader. Click on a link and give it a test read.  I hope you like it! 🙂

Payback

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Here’s a Snarky throwback.  Ah, the tale of revenge I got on Katie Kirkpatrick.  Years have gone by but this still brings a smile to my face.  Enjoy.

If I can teach you anything it would be to not rush seeking revenge.  It’s human to want to immediately strike back.  But, whoever said “revenge is a dish best served cold” knew what they were talking about.  Patience pays off.   I waited a long six months before I shattered Katie Kirkpatrick’s perfect little world.  I watched for the prime opportunity to crush her and it came during spring break.  Every March Katie and her family of five make their yearly pilgrimage to Disneyland.  Two weeks before she leaves for vacation she treats everyone within a one mile radius to quips like, “The happiest family on earth is going to the happiest place on earth!”  Gag.  Two days before they load up their mini-van with the “bestmom” license plate Katie starts wearing Mickey Mouse ears around town.   She, of course, has a collection of Mouse ears that date back to 1992.   I just smiled at her antics and counted down the days until I could begin Operation Payback.

As far as revenge scenarios go this one was pretty simple.  My main objective was to strike Katie where it would hurt the most – her snooty pride.  Due to the current economic climate, I live in an area where a lot parents have “left” their jobs as CEO’s and Presidents to become “consultants” and every mom that was a kick ass realtor now works as a “retail specialist” at Bed, Bath & Beyond.  Katie, besides dissing me with her short sale gossip back in September was unmercifully cheery whenever someone become a “consultant” or “retail sales specialist.”  She would drip artificial, condescending concern as she spread the news that someone else had been kicked to the curb by the economy with little bon mots like this; “Oh my God, did you hear Marybeth’s husband lost his job?  I was told not to repeat this but, I’m so worried about her I just wanted to let everyone know so they can be super nice to her, that they were already behind on their mortgage so I don’t think they’ll be in the neighborhood much longer.  What do you think – should we start a canned food drive for them?”  Yes, by all means lets take this family’s pain and embarrass them, rub their nose in it, with a freaking canned food drive. The very worst is that she would say stuff to people’s kids. That’s more than crossing the line it’s a call to action. My joy was boundless as her mini-van pulled out of her drive-way on the first Saturday of spring break because it meant my plan could go into action.

Step one: Gather supplies.  I had readied my supplies months earlier and hidden them away awaiting this special day.  My tools of revenge included: two realtor signs, glossy home for sale sheets that show the inside of the home, balloons (that I needed to get blown up) and a flag banner.  Because I consider myself a professional when it comes to exacting revenge I had done all my print work 2 months earlier. Due to watching way too many crime procedurals over the years that show detectives tracing back whodunit by comparing the ink on printers I did all my printing up at the elementary school workroom. Good luck tracking down who used that bad boy. In case you’re worried I wasted precious tax payer purchased  school ink on my nefarious deed – relax. I left ten dollars in the teacher’s smile jar and I brought my own paper. Once I had my supplies assembled all I needed to do was wait for the cover of darkness.

Step two:  Decorate.  At around 2 a.m. dressed in my husband’s black ski jacket with a black wool ski hat, gloves and a dog leash (In case someone asks me what I’m doing out at this hour I’m going to use the leash as “cover.” As in, “I let my dog outside to do her business and she ran off.”) I drive my car close to Katie’s house and park behind a grove of pine trees.  I open the back of my car take out the realtor sign, shove it in her yard and put the glossy, full color, home for sale sheets in their holder.  I run back to my car and get a bouquet of mylar balloons and attach them to the sign along with the flag banner.  I haul back to my car again, check to make sure I’m not being followed, drive to the entrance of her subdivision and put up another realtor sign with more balloons and then return home.

Step Three: Church.  The Sunday morning gossip was hot enough to set the burning bush on fire again.  Loads of concerned church folk were all talking about the sign in Katie yards and the “fact sheets” that accompanied it.  I acted very surprised and saddened by what I heard and then suggested to someone who then suggested to the minister that a prayer request be made for her family during the church service.  I was all for that. Katie really needed help from the almighty to ensure she didn’t suffer eternal damnation in the afterlife.  You might thinking what about me and all the stuff I’ve pulled?  Well, I like to think I’m doing the Lord’s work – just a bit.

Step Four: Social Media.  While in church some kind soul offered to start a Facebook page for Katie and her family called: Help Katie Kirkpartick.  I’m can’t be sure, but I think it was one my friends that recommended it (It sounded rehearsed. Almost as if she had been put up to it by someone. Hmm, I wonder who?) An eager beaver mom took the Facebook idea and ran with it.  By the end of day the “Help Katie Kirkpatrick page” had 653 “likes.”

Step Five: Katie Comes Home.  Sadly, Katie’s vacation to Disneyland was cut short. It seems many, many concerned people, texted, called, e-mailed, and Facebooked her about her plight.  Bewildered she came home and this is what she found in her yard:

A huge foreclosure sign from the First Union bank. (I had googled and made sure there was no First Union bank. Well, there was but, it had gone into insolvency which meant my butt was covered.).  At first glance the sign read F U. That’s because the F in First and the U in Union were gianormous.   Even worse were the sales information sheets.  Now, usually those sheets try to show the best your home has to offer, but not these. Poor Katie, it seems she has some hoarding issues that need to be dealt with.  These pictures showed piles of crap everywhere and one even had what looked like a rodent, the size of a small pony, peeking out from behind a stack of newspapers.  It just about broke your heart to see a woman living like that.  One mom on the Help Katie Kirkpatrick Facebook page posted: “Maybe she should spend less time volunteering up at the elementary school and more time cleaning her home.”  I made sure to not only “like” that comment, but add, “From you lips to God’s ear.” The fact that not one person yanked the sign out of Katie’s yard or threw away the realtor “info sheets” spoke volumes.

The first day of school after spring break Katie was still livid.  A bunch of moms had crowded around her as she raged against who had done this to her.  I walked right up to her, put my arm around her and said, “Sweetie, it’s okay.  You don’t have to pretend anymore. Home foreclosure is nothing to be ashamed of.  Should we start a canned food drive?”  That’s when she knew I had done it and I couldn’t have been happier.

***For all things wonderfully Snarky go to www.snarkygear.com where you can find the new Spring/Summer  Snarky line of clothing and accessories. Plus, there’s my book – Snarky in the Suburbs Back to School. (Click here for purchase information.) Here’s a little ditty about it: The Spring Creek Elementary School PTA board (a coven of Mean Moms dressed in Uggs, yoga pants, and dermal filler) is up to no good.  Wynn Butler (middle-aged, uncool, and not bringing sexy back) is determined to find out what’s going on. With help from her two kids, a Roomba vacuum turned mobile surveillance drone, and a few good friends, Wynn launches a covert investigation that leads to the “mother of all revenge capers” at the school’s annual Fall Festival.  If you’ve ever fantasized about smoke bombing the idiot parent who has yet to master the fine art of the school drop-off lane, or standing up and shouting, “Liar, liar, Botox on fire” during a PTA meeting, then this delicious tale of payback is for you. To stay up-to-date on new posts and take part in my not so deep thoughts click on this Facebook link – http://is.gd/iEgnJ (That’s the abbreviated link to my FB page) or I twitter @snarkynsuburbs.

Mean Girls & Their Mothers – Are They A Terrorist Threat?

Note: In September I wrote Mean Girls – A Lifestyle (September 30) and many of you requested that I write something about Mean Moms.  It took some time to do the research, but here are my findings.

Our kids can’t be perfect because we, the parents, aren’t.  We’re flawed.  We’ve made many mistakes and have had some pretty impressive “holy crap I’m an idiot” episodes in our adult careers.  Which all makes it impossible for our kids to be pillars of perfection.  We’ve screwed them up either through the transfer of our faulty genetic code and/or through our children’s exposure to our moronic moments. It rubs off of them, I’m sure, like second-hand smoke.  The fatal flaw in parenting is thinking your kids are perfect.  This, I have found, is the primary reason for the increase in the number of Mean Girls currently terrorizing their peers.  Parents thinking their children can do no wrong.

Now, think about this for a minute, let it sink in, you have a perfect child.  Wow, that has just made your parenting job so much easier.  Do you even have to parent if your kid is perfect?  Of course, you would still feed, house and clothe them, but hey, the heavy lifting of parenting is done. It is all smooth sailing. All you have to do is sit back and listen to the compliments on what a darling, exemplary child you have. Where can I sign up for that child-rearing scenario?

Thinking your progeny is perfection comes in very handy in so many ways.  First, it’s a huge timesaver.  If anyone complains about your child or if a caring educator points out a behavioral problem it’s N.B.D. -no big deal-  because everyone is wrong. Your kid is perfect and therefore you are required to do absolutely nothing except think whoever singled out your child’s behavioral issue is simply beyond jealous.  After all, just take a look at your sweetie, who wouldn’t be envious.  Really, people need to put aside their petty jealousies and quit picking on your kid.

Second, it’s makes you feel so good about yourself.   You must be pretty darn special to have created this super human.  Admit it, your fabulous and your child is just like you.  Forget the bumper sticker that says your child is an honor student. You need one that says, “I’m perfection therefore my child is too.”  God forbid, anyone point out a foible in your child.  You won’t stand for it.  Why, if your child’s behavior is unkind bordering on evil, that would be wrong.  Wrong because it would mean your child is not awesome and that would make you less awesome.  Well, you will not stand for that.  No one impinges on your awesomeness by critiquing your kid.  Not just no, but hell no.

Third, the perfect parent/child combo creates an indestructible bond that requires no effort.  Who needs to spend time together when you’re both already perched at the pinnacle of shared perfection.  So, what if you don’t see your daughter that much. It’s not like you don’t text and you do take her shopping and get your eyebrows waxed together.  Besides what could go wrong she’s perfect, your perfect, all is well.

Perfection is the common denominator that all mothers of mean girls (M.O.M.G.) share.   Besides that one similarity they can be very different. There are M.O.M.G. that are M.A.B. (Middle Aged Barbies.) M.O.M.G. that wear mom jeans.  Some M.O.M.G. work, some are stay-at-home. The M.O.M.G. can also be found in any socioeconomic group.  Some mothers of means girls seem very nice.  So nice, in fact you wonder how they procreated mini Satans.  Some are clueless and some, well, let’s just say the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree. You can though, by applying the United States Defense Department’s Terriosm Criteria, breakdown the psychological make-up of the M.O.M.G and this is where it gets interesting.  Mothers of Mean Girls have a whole lot in common with terrorist sects.

Like terrorists the M.O.M.G. begins training their recruit (daughter) at a very young age. It begins with the mobilization of like-minded individuals who fit their profile of “I’m better than you.” The first training camp is pre-school where the Mean Girls In Training (M.G.I.T.) embark on their first campaign – aggressive group exclusion and inequality in toy distribution, This, at time, can be accompanied by hand-to-hand combat and in some cases biting. (Basically “I want it, you have it, now it’s mine.”) On to elementary school where the M.O.M.G began to cultivate a culture of acceptance for intimidating and hurtful behavior.  This lays the groundwork for middle school where the M.G.I.T. graduates to a full-fledged mean girl and is mission ready for her reign of adolescent assaults that are premeditated, socially motivated violence against non-combatant targets –  girls that aren’t like them, girls they are jealous of or random girls unlucky enough to attract their attention. By high school the Mean Girls, through their years of training and funding by their mothers, have created their own terrorist cells that use the threat of violence, and psychological torture, to incur fear, coerce and intimidate.

According to school authorities, parents and counselors the biggest problem in attempting to neutralize the Mean Girl sect is that the M.O.M.G provide an impregnable terrorist sanctuary.  There are four well-known battle strategies used to combat the Mean Girl, most if not all, are usually epic fails.

Mom-to-Mom Combat: This is when the mother of the girl being terrorized calls the mother of the mean girl and attempts to negotiate a cease and desist.  This fails miserably because the M.O.M.G. refuses to hear anything less than stellar about her daughter  due to the aforementioned “My child is perfect” delusion.  In some cases, the M.O.M.G has even resorted to threatening the mom (whose daughter’s is afraid to go to school) with a restraining order for “harassment.” How can this happen you ask?  Well, the mother of the mean girl “go to” reaction is shock and rage that anyone would dare say anything negative about her child and in her book that qualifies as harassment and a call to an attorney.

Call for back-up: In this case it means enlist the school for help. Sadly, the majority of schools are inadequate in their response.  One retired principal told me that  “it will take a “female Columbine,” a girl shooting up a school, before officials realize that this is harmful bullying that threatens a student’s safety.  One friend of mine, after the school offered no viable relief for her daughters daily torture, went to school everyday, 7 hours a day, with her daughter to offer protection. She says the Mean Girls even gave her trouble.  She videotaped it on her phone, showed it to the girls mothers and they didn’t believe it.  All the mothers accused her of editing it.  Yeah right, like us moms know how to edit a video on our phone.

Tough it out: Most parents after going through steps 1 & 2 settle on their daughter trying to lay low, not draw attention to herself and see if the Mean Girls move on to another target.  This sometimes work, but the emotional cost to the child is very high.

Remove child from hostile environment: This involves changing public schools, enrolling in private school or even home-schooling.  Although, this sounds like a game changer the Mean Girls still maintain their campaign of harassment on the internet and through texts.

According to the Defense Department the primary tool for halting terrorism is preemption – stopping it before it begins.  That means, at the very least, to slow down the growth of this sorority of hate, we have to parent with our eyes wide open.  I’m doubting we, 21st century moms, have the guts to do that.  We would have to admit our children make mistakes, can be excruciatingly unkind and need firm direction.  We’d even have to (gasp) be role models.  In our busy, self-important world who has the time to parent like our daughters lives depend on it.

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