Maybe this is just our way of holding on to summer.  More likely, we’re so overwhelmed with school calendars and PTA forms that we fear we may never get organized again.  Our solution: write every activity, meeting and potential playdate in our calendar, from now through next summer.  The truth is, this super advanced planning probably isn’t such a bad idea.  Every year our kids get smarter while we lose all ability to retain information. One mom we know has already planned grandparents visiting day for July 2010!

It’s totally weird and totally uncomfortable but more than a few moms have told us that they prefer to conduct conference calls from the closet rather than deal with pounding on the door to their home office.  It’s not that their kids don’t know they’re working from home.  Even a baby can sense that!  But a mother’s voice inevitably signals the “want” pheromone in any offspring under 21 (and sometimes beyond).  Better to squat in the darkness than listen to your children pounding on the door.

Once upon a time, the grand tour was reserved for trips to Europe or a serious look at colleges. But today, the whole family piles in the minivan to visit a half dozen summer camps for their elementary age children. Isn’t it weird to put this much emphasis on summer camp? And isn’t it even weirder to give the kid so much power over the decision? And yet, so many moms do it! We’ve all been sucked into the vortex of hyper parenting. We’d like to propose that one person in every neighborhood be the designated camp researcher and just tell the rest of us what to do.

It’s weird, but true, that “let’s get coffee,” almost always means, I’ve got to go and don’t want to seem rude. This isn’t 1950. Does anyone really have time for a coffee date?  You’re either working full time, on your way to the gym, or having your java jolt just to get out of the house on time. Yet moms say this all the time in the hopes that the other mother’s too busy to take them up on it.

Every June, emails and memos go out asking parents to contribute to a group teacher gift and most parents respond with their cash contribution.  Why then do so many moms (including us!) insist on also buying a separate gift for the teacher?  Yes, teachers work hard.  Yes, they deserve appreciation.  But isn’t that the point of the group gift?  And if you want to give them $20 or $30 dollars instead of ten, then why not contribute that to the group gift certificate?  We doubt the teacher needs another paper weight, apple mug or note pad–and we don’t think moms are currying favors at this point either.  Your child is done for the year!  We honestly cannot explain this behavior.  It’s just weird.

No one likes to be sick.  And having sick kids is like a double dose of bad mojo.  But then there’s weird paranoia, as in, mothers who refuse to let their child play with yours if anyone in your house has been sick within say, the last month.  These moms honestly believe that if your son was sick in May, there are still germs alive and well on your living room sofa–in late June.  (We suspect that these are the mothers who invented the air kisss–germs, not lipstick, being the main thing to avoid.)  But we digress.  Back to the weird.  What’s weird–and ironic–is that the most vigilant parents always have the worst luck.  Right after the “approved” playdate has taken place, the young tot in question usually comes down with something viral, putting the weird, paranoid mother into an even bigger tail spin.  Now she’s sure that you lied to her about your family health survey and will probably never allow young Larry to step foot in your house again.   

It’s not the desire to match that’s at work here but the desire to trick, as in, “If I have a curly bob like my daughter, people will believe that I am young and perky too.”  We imagine this technique works best when you’re going into the witness protection program, but never mind.  Mom’s minds are bendable to all things half true; other mothers are willing to embrace the unbelievable if it gives them something new and fun to gossip about. (How else would all those mom friendships survive?)  Note: Don’t think that matching hair color gives you free license to embrace mother-daughter dressing.  It is not cute or even mildly amusing to see a mother dressed in the same outfit as her daughter.  It’s scary and reminds us of the Stepford Wives.

What exactly will happen if you put your three year old in a regular twin bed? Will he get lost?  Will you lose him?  Will the mommy police give you a fine for not wasting enough money on baby products this month?  And yet, all over the country, mom’s are buying minature-sized “toddler beds” in the shapes of cars, castles and bowling alleys so that their little one will survive the transition from crib to bed.  We suspect these are the same moms who had their babies sleep in cradles or bassinets because the crib seemed too gigantic.  We know that seemed normal at the time too, right?

Also known as never hosting the playdate!  This maneuver is usually accomplished on email where subtleties of manners and good breeding can be masked as failure to communicate.  The correspondence usually begins as “let’s have a playdate” with no mention as to whom shall supervise, or where.  As the details are finalized (time, day) one mother (usually the one without the agenda) thinks to ask, “where are we doing this?”  The reply?  “I thought you were!”

Other Mom Mooch techniques involve repeated favors, “Can you watch Jonathan while I drive my little one to tap?” and the playdate extension: “Do you mind if I pick up later?”  To prevent this weird and all too common behavior, try using your kid as the human shield.  Insist that Tommy or Sandra is dying for a chance to play at Mom Mooch’s house and ask whether this fantasy can be met.  You’ll probably never hear from the other mom again but then again, she may have just been testing how far she could push you.

Germs are the number one enemy of modern mothers.  Never mind that no one ever died from the common cold or that there’s no clear proof that licking the blue nylon seat restraint can cause one.  So it was some sort of unique mother-hating genius who came up with the idea of the grocery cart cover — the only single product we can think of that both placates mothers’ fears while elevating them.  (”My god, where else are the bacteria lurking?!)  But then, what’s modern motherhood without unnecessary accessories.  (Wipe warmers anyone?)  The next time you’re tempted to purchase one of these prettily designed, useless gew-gaws, dig deep in your inner psyche and try to ferret out the real reason for your purchase.  No doubt, somewhere inside your grappling soul, you actually believe that with the exact right product, you will suddenly become that much hoped for but never attainable thing: A Perfect Mother!