Lullaby Of The
Sloth Mother
by Roz Warren
and Janet Golden
(this story
first appeared on the
Errant Parent Website)
“I hauled
Lulu’s dollhouse to the car and told her
I’d donate it to the Salvation Army piece by
piece if she didn’t have “The Little
White Donkey” perfect by the next day…
I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no
Christmas or Hanukah presents, no birthday
parties for two, three, four years. When she
still kept playing it wrong, I told her to …stop
being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.”
-- Amy Chua, Battle Cry of the Tiger Mother.
A lot of
people wonder how we Sloth Mothers do such a
terrific job of keeping the kids out of our hair
so we can kick back, smoke weed, watch soap
operas and drink yummy mixed drinks, all without
being pestered to do boring stuff like cook
healthful meals or drive pesky rug rats to the
pediatrician for time-consuming annual check-ups.
Well, just ask me. I’m a Sloth Mother and
I’ve trained my offspring well. They would
never dream of asking me to:
* drive them
to sports practice
* watch them star in a school play
* hire an SAT tutor, or
* turn the volume down a little on my 56 inch
flat screen TV
How do we
Sloth Mothers do it? We make sure our offspring
understand from a very early age that effort is a
complete waste of time. After all, we’re all
going to die. This means achievement is
meaningless, and the sooner the little ones get
this through their adorable little noggins, the
happier we’re all going to be.
There was the
time little Jon came home with a project his
teacher had given him so he could earn
“extra credit.” “Extra credit is
garbage!” I told him. “Who the hell
needs extra credit? Throw that right in the trash
and come over here and watch “Oprah”
with me.
Sloth
mothering isn’t just a matter of urinating
on them if they try to climb down and explore.
You’ve also got to reward them when they
meet your expectations. For instance, there was
the day when Freddie came home from school with a
D- in algebra! “We’re going right to
McDonalds to celebrate with fries and shakes for
dinner,“ I promised. “The minute I
finish this nap.“
Barry proved
to be a lot more resistant. He saw those Tiger
kids practicing the violin for hours and hours.
“Why are they doing that, Mom?” he
asked. “Because they don’t realize how
futile it is,” I responded, sensing a
teachable moment. Then I told him not to bother
me about it again. But a week later, he was back.
“Practicing the violin looks hard,“ he
said. “But mastering a song looks so
rewarding!“ I gently explained that those
Tiger kids came from lousy backgrounds and
didn’t even use drugs. Then I gave him his
very own bottle of Vicodin and kept him home from
school for a week. Problem solved.
Sloth
Motherhood isn’t always easy. Never mind
what those troublesome Social Services people say
-- sometimes you just have to ignore the little
tykes altogether in order to create some space
for yourself. But you know what? Other moms envy
Sloth Moms and our kids. And why shouldn’t
they? Their children couldn’t mix a decent
Manhattan if their lives depended on it.
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