Mega Moms – The Coolness Factor
You’ve probably seen one or two of them, a kid on each hip, a phone in one hand and dinner in the other, the laundry’s going and she’s telling her husband where to find his socks. Yup, she’s a Mega Mom!
The concept clattered to reality a few moments ago as I watched for the forth time today, my son stumble through the house with one item in his hand, informing me that he was doing his chores as fast as he could. I wanted to smack him, then I remembered… Mom’s do the Mega Stuff, Dad’s wait for Mega Mom to find their socks. ARGH!!!
Does it have to go another generation?
Can’t we stop the non-sense RIGHT NOW?
My son grew up in a home with older sisters and a mom, waiting to be told what to do… Until he got old enough (he thought) to tell them what to do. It’s not working. He tells, they don’t listen. And there we are, waiting for him to clear out his clutter, one item at a time, while the laundry basket sits waiting for action on the coffee table. So, I fill it up with his clutter… The video game, the video cards, the dirty socks, the shoes, the shirt, his belt (where did he get that belt buckle) and the three books still slung across the coffee table at the end of the couch where he forgot to take them back to the library – yup, three weeks ago. When he returned to pick up the next single item, I watched agag, as he picked up the next single item out of the basket and carried it across the room to put away – one sock at a time… OMG
So, then it occurs to me that there’s more training to do here. I focus for a moment on the option of carrying out my former threat of cleaning the living room myself. His video games are still wrapped in the laundry basket, which I picked up and carried to my room and placed in the closet. Done. The living room is now picked up and he has to go through my closet to get one item at a time.
With the chill of defeat wrapped around his little fingers, he re-enters the room, intent on picking up one more thing. It’s gone. He glances around the room and looks straight at me. He knows I’m the one who picked up his stuff. The only other person in the room is his brother, who just like him, picks up one item at a time.
I smile that wretchedly cool smile that says, “I dare you to ask, g’head, ask.”
He says, “I think I’ll go fix something to eat. I’m hungry.”
The coolness factor wins again. Mega Mom can make a statement without saying a word. It’s great to be the Coolest Mom on the Planet — go check out my daughter’s blog at Pages of Parenthood.
Leave a Comment