Every Mom Versus Pee Cow

Think Godzilla vs. Ghidorah

I read a story this morning by the amazing Samara Speaks on her blog A Buick In A Land Of Lexus where she very calmly discusses her feelings on dealing with the PTO moms at her son’s school.

Just kidding, she rips their ass.

This isn’t Samara’s first blog post about the PTO moms. I know the moms she talks about; I’ve never been good at dealing with them. A single sneer down their nose and I turned into one of those pretty blue flowers that get smaller due to social anxiety.

For fuck’s sake, one of them got shitty with Samara over the cupcakes she is making for a Halloween bake sale. They are decorated with little knives and are quite perfect for a school bake sale. The PTO mom felt they were inappropriate for the younger kids.

Here’s a picture of them:  halloween-cookies-2013-cupcakes-knives-2

Regardless of how young they are, if your precious spawn can’t handle the sight of one of those cupcakes,  then your child is not being adequately prepared for life. It’s a Halloween cupcake. There are scary images at Halloween that are all in fun.

I was horribly annoyed when I read this story. But why? I’m way beyond the bake sale years. I know that people can be shitty, this isn’t shocking. Supercilious PTO moms are in every community. Why did I feel like hopping on a plane and flying to Samara’s house and beating up a PTO mom? Isn’t that unreasonable? Is this more of that menopause hormonal bullshit? This shit has to stop.

What I decided is this: I’m still not happy about that whole shrinking violet scenario. I want a chance to stand up for myself. Until I get that TARDIS though, time travel isn’t an option.

Except, maybe I can fix it.

I can have one conversation to represent all the conversations I ever had with PTO moms. Or soccer moms. Fucking hell, the soccer moms. When my older son was playing soccer, all the soccer moms were into painting their white canvas tennis shoes with puff paint. They don’t still do that shit, do they? Because damn. I understand, maybe a little, how Samara feels. I never fit in with the soccer moms. They’d all be wearing theme clothes and I’d be wearing a Bruce Springsteen concert shirt that I had already had for 15 years and knock off Converse all stars. I tried to be friendly, despite my social anxiety (which was way worse when I was younger).  They didn’t even pretend to be polite.

In the following scenario, the normal mother will be represented as ‘every mom’ or ‘Em’. Em is like me. She doesn’t puff paint her goddamn shoes and she sure as fuck isn’t concerned about her snowflake seeing a Halloween cupcake. Samara refers to the PTO moms as PTO whores. So for short, that’s Ptow. But Ptow doesn’t rhyme with ‘toe’ it rhymes with ‘cow’. So Ptow rhymes with Pee Cow. Which really, is perfect. So we will just call her Pee Cow.

In our story, Em has her hair pulled back in a pony tail. She tried really hard to smooth her hair down, but there were still poofy sections. She didn’t have time for makeup because her goofing off time had gotten out of control that morning. So she just smudged up last night’s mascara and called it eye liner, put on a little powder and really didn’t notice the grease stain on her Hilton Head t-shirt. That she bought at a Goodwill. But it was just a quick 10 minute meeting at the school for the Fall bake sale.

Pee Cow has 70s era flight attendant hair, yoga pants, a designer purse and a North Face vest. Her nails are tasteful and she still carries a day planner.


Pee Cow: Em, it’s Em, right? Em, we just don’t feel that your cupcakes are appropriate for children under 10.

Em: They’re just cupcakes with a Halloween theme. It’s not like I brought vagina cupcakes or anything like that one mom did at that one school.

It’s possible that Em is socially awkward and is an expert at making a difficult situation unbearably uncomfortable. She also isn’t expressing an opinion on the vagina cupcakes. There is nothing wrong with vaginas. I mean, unless you are putting PICTURES OF THEM ON CUPCAKES AND GIVING THEM TO CHILDREN. Really…that’s fucking weird. 

Pee Cow: Vagina cupcakes? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Em, but I certainly hope your cupcakes have nothing to do with, you know, genitals.

Em: No. No..it was a story I read a few weeks ago. On the internet.

Pee Cow: Oh. Well, I avoid those sites. .

Em: It was Facebook.

Pee Cow: We don’t allow Facebook accounts in our house. No monitor time other than homework. Well, and PBS. We watch an hour of PBS every week. I know, it seems excessive, but I value that family time.

Pee Cow’s two children, Muffy (named after her maternal grandmother) and Cooper (named after the car, I assume) approach their mother and ask politely if they can stop for wheat grass smoothies on the way home. 

Pee Cow: I know a smoothie is not the best mid-morning snack, but part of the fun of life is spoiling our kids, right? Their daily affirmation coach and my joyologist both agree that infrequent indulgences help prepare them for the real world.

Em: Does your daughter’s t-shirt say ‘muff diver’ on it?

Pee Cow: Yes. We call Muffy, Muff at home and she’s a shining star on her diving team, so we had that shirt made for her.

Em: Do you know what a muff diver is?

Upon hearing Em explaining what a muff diver is, Pee Cow’s exterior shimmers. The glint of light that winked continuously off her front teeth went out. Her hair frizzled up and was replaced with serpents just like Medusa. Her eyes turned black and her lips were covered with cold sores. Pee Cow points a bent and bony finger at her daughter and shrieks at her to go into the bathroom and turn her shirt inside out. .

As soon as the sound of her shrieks stopped echoing, the world righted itself and she once again had that Stepford PTO look popular in suburbs everywhere .

Em: So, will 2 dozen cupcakes be okay?

Pee Cow: Yes, that will be fine. Now, we have to run. Cooper can’t be late for his self-actualizing fencing class.


Damn. That was fun.

I’m not suggesting that there is anything wrong with taking time with your appearance. I’m not suggesting that wearing designer clothes is bad. All I’m saying is if you do these things and then treat people who opt for different paths like shit, then you are probably a pee cow. Cut it out. It’s not attractive.

Also, those goddamn cupcakes are fine.



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  • I’m still wondering how she made those terrific knives that are plunged in the cupcakes. But keep them out of the hands of the Pee Cows. Don’t turn your back on the cupcakes.

  • If I weren’t so socially awkward, if Facebook, Twitter, etc had been around, and I could do it all again, I would have put the call out for anti-Stepfordish moms to come together.

    I was the one in the Clash t-shirt, also with knockoff all-stars (Target doesn’t sell them anymore, boo!) and blue nails before it was “acceptable” on runways. I lived in an apartment (gasp!) and didn’t have a fancee car or haircut.

    I only am greatful that the teachers were cooler than the those parents most times. One constantly was commenting on Matthew’s rock/punk knowledge and another introduced him to even more bands. Others over the years were pretty awesome. I would avoid the PTA meetings and go right to chat with the teachers before the other parents flooded in and tried to one up each other over their child’s “advanced abilities”.

  • Oh my goodness, I am so an Em. One or the other of my kids has been at the same Montessori school for 15 years. After all this time I have approximately 1 mother I am comfortable with there (she’s one of us). Instead, I am friends with many of the staff (admins, treasurer, maintenance guy). They’re the only people I feel comfortable hanging with in the sea of scary perfect people.

  • I’m constantly afraid of doing something at a school function that might somehow trickle down to my daughter…right up til I get there. Last week was parent teacher conference day and all morning I’m worried about looking out of place or saying something dumb. But I somehow managed to forget to care right before I used the word douchewaffle in a first grade classroom.
    Teacher-when she’s old enough I’d be happy to write a letter of recommendation for (school a) or even (school b)
    Me- (school a) sounds great but I’m pretty sure that we’re not considering (school b)
    Teacher-oh, why?
    Me-well, I like their philosophy I suppose but the execution is…I’ve known a bunch of people who went there and to a man every last one came out a pretentious douchewaffle.
    Teacher-*stifling laughter* fair enough

  • LOL. I think I know that mom…

    Can’t say I’ve ever baked cupcakes, so the chances of this happening are slim to none. Oh…and I’d never deliberately talk to one of those moms.

    Great post!

  • Such a good way to get out all the angst. Damn Pee Cows need to get a life.

    If I ever baked cupcakes for a school function, I think people would worry less about whether they had knives or vaginas on them, and more about what was in them.

    At least they should…

    Now I want a cupcake. Shoot.

  • Change Pee Cows to career-obsessed 20-somethings in the journalism department where I go to school and it’s the same damn thing. I’m more of the slacker type. I do what I do and am content with who I am. I have no interest in impressing internship decision makers and no interest in being obsessed with developing a kick ass portfolio.

    The career-obsessed bitches tend to sneer at me and think I’m just some loudmouth, obnoxious bitch with an attitude problem. Oh yeah? Well fuck you. While you’re stressing over work I’ll be at home on the balcony sipping wine and enjoying life. Enjoy the nervous breakdown at 30, bitches.

    • Oh god…I remember them…I was like you back in my 20s…I did my job and lived for going to the clubs on the weekends. The ‘career’ girls really didn’t have anything to do with me and I pretty much just mocked them behind their backs..

      • And the fun part for me is that I’m close to 34 while these bitches are between 20 and 25. Being the older student can be interesting at times, especially when you’re technically supposed to be the mature, responsible adult. Yeeea, no. I’ll just have my fun goofing off and exchanging fart jokes with my husband or getting drunk with my friends along Route 66.

  • I was rolling earlier this week when I read Samara’s post and now you’ve done it again. I am SO an Em. And I really want to know the trick to making those adorable little knives! I would love to put those cupcakes out for the kids at our Halloween party next weekend. Guess I’ll have to settle for the vagina cupcakes…

  • My sons are 20 and 24 and I’m still not over the Evil Babysitting CoOp Cabal or the Sweater Set Cabal. I stumble over Mom Blogs like this and it raises my hackles all over again. I’m pretty sure one of the reasons I got a divorce and took up with a woman was to ice the Alienation Cupcake I was eating as a mommy in the suburbs. Fortunately, I had a couple of rogue friends and we happened to be room mothers together during second grade. The Halloween party was Off. The. Hook. We were never allowed to hostess parties together again. The Sweater Set was offended by our eyeball soup and find the toy in the guts game. A few years ago, my son brought up the party and referred to it as the “best ever”. So fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke and those cupcakes are cute as Hell.

  • See, I can’t even imagine this world… of pto’s, mom clubs and purposefully going to weekly/monthly? (I don’t know) meetings dealing with people who judge every hair on my head. I’ll never have to, that I can think of, due to not having kids but I would be a total terror in that situation. After the first meeting I’d be banned from the gathering, pretty sure.

    P.S. Bad Ass cupcakes!

  • haha, muff diver! I can not stand dealing with these Pee Cows(s?) I have stopped volunteering for events at the boys elementary school because of these people. We still go, but I try not to make eye contact. I fell for their “come participate with us!” sales pitch before, just to be shunned as an outsider when I did volunteer. They still try to trick me and act like I never showed up to any of the cult meetings before and am just some new guy they have never met. Self-involved parents that are only concerned with their status and the appearance that they try so hard to nurture. Ugh, just thinking about “them” makes me angry.

  • The PTO is the lever next to the gearshift in a dump truck that causes it to actually dump, so do with that what you will…
    As a kid, my go-to response to other kids with pee cows for parents was to teach them how to ride my motorcycle.

  • I am definitely an Em. I wrote a scathing post recently, going after all those goodie twoshoe mommy blog sites that like to make you feel like a sucky parent. I ended up toning it down in fear of Pee Cow backlash. My husband said my original version was so much better. It was raw and real. Why do I still let the bullies of this world intimidate me?

    • You are where you are and that’s cool. When you are ready or you feel it’s appropriate, you can post shit like that. It’s easy for me because I have no idea what I’m doing and don’t make any money from blogging, so I can just say what ever I want. Haha.

  • There is a friend of mine who so needs to read this. She is persecuted by women like this.
    I have had moments of sadness over my lack of children but I would have had to deal with this too so I’m relieved I don’t have to.
    Women can be such dicks to each other….

  • I still remember a Pee Cow acting horrified when my daughter showed up at a pre school singing circle with a Disney book about Cinderella. WHO BROUGHT THAT INTO OUR HOUSE! Oh man, the mama tiger in me came out big time.
    Live and let live, beeatch!

  • I laughed my ass of at this. I read Samara’s post last night too and it made me so mad. Your description of both are dead on! I hated those moms when my kids were grown. They treat other people like shit with a big smile on their faces it’s disgusting. The adult version of the”mean girl” that nobody talks about.

  • Man, I wish I had knife-y cupcakes.

    Also a 15 year old Bruce Springsteen t-shirt. The best I have is a 10 year old Bruce Springsteen tank top I bought at a concert when I was skinny. Damn.

  • Love those cupcakes. And yes, the vagina ones were freakin’ weird. Or weirdly freakin’. Not sure. It’s early. Sue me.

    AND…my solution to the Pee Cow ladies was to band together with the other misfits and create a kind of fifth column to undermine them and/or laugh at them. My favourite moment: when Sue, Chief Bovine Unit at my daughter’s school, tried to lecture me on arranging ham slices on a platter for some parent event. “We have Jewish parents at this school,” she smirked. At which point she pulled out her beautifully arranged turkey and cheese platter. “Sue, you know that’s not kosher either, right?” I asked, trying to suppress my smirk of victory. She looked stunned. I had her, and she knew it, and she knew that I knew it. It was sweet.

  • It’s not just soccer moms – basketball moms are just as bad. The worst are their shoes — they wear boots with HEELS to basketball games. Oh yeah. And chic furry vests. Not to mention fully done makeup and shiny, long, blown out hair. Me over here with my hot flashes and flat shoes…..I get a hot flash just looking at those crazy vests, skinny jeans and heeled boots. How do they get up in all the bleachers with those heels? Very funny post, made me snort laugh this morning.

  • I avoided PTO for the most part, but soccer moms were definitely a bunch of cliquey bitches that were all BFFs (probably more – I never saw any fathers at practice) with the coach. “We were ALLLL on Coach PerfectAb’s team LAST year, so OF COURSE we are all on his team this year! I’m sorry, were you saying something?” And no, I don’t buy that I just had shitty reception every single time I didn’t get the text saying that practice was late/cancelled/moved to X. Twatwaffle.

    Yeah, ok, so I had the kid that chased butterflies instead of the ball for the most part, but not all of us value sports like it’s the glue that holds life and their perfect hair together. It’s just a game ran by the city’s athletic department. It’s not even a real league. Get over yourselves!

  • LMAO! So true! I encounter Pee Cow at school and in sports, not to mention work. I’m a Payless Mom in a sea of Tory Burch! And I’m ALWAYS the oldest. Heading over to read the other post.

  • I love Samara’s cupcakes (that sounds like a euphemism, and maybe it is).

    I’ve been really fortunate in my area. There are the pee cows fer sher, but they are far outnumbered by Ems. Or at least evenly numbered. I volunteer for classroom stuff, but never go to PTA meetings (mostly cuz I’m lazy and uninterested), but two years ago I was the room mom and was pleasantly surprised by the “normal” moms I worked with.

    Last year I chaperoned my kindergartner’s field trip to a pumpkin patch and was shocked at the moms who peppered the FARM in skinny jeans, high-heeled, expensive boots, full make-up, and perfect hair. Oh, and also a GIANT Coach tote, and the biggest designer glasses you’ve ever seen. They looked so fucking stupid.

    • Where I live now, most the women look like your coach bag ladies. Fortunately, my kid doesn’t need me to attend school functions anymore..so I just wear my band t shirts and sweats and thumb my nose at them. haha.

  • I’m so happy that I’m all done with this BS and I have no Pea Cow mean girls to deal with.. This type of person doesn’t have enough to make them feel worthy in their own life, so they feel the need to judge others and bring them down to their level.. uggg.

  • While I have never actually dealt with the Pee Cows in their actual authoritative capacity, I have dealt with them in the wild through a couple of public servant jobs I once held. The worse of the two places was when I was a counter jockey at McDonald’s and little Cooper was being “rewarded” for his 100% on the spelling test, only to throw a tantrum when the Happy Meal toy he wanted was sold out. Hey, Coop, here’s a word for you to spell, PETULANT.

    (I might have to continue the Pee Cow theme this week and write some of my own thoughts of PTO moms in the wild)

  • The girl child is involved in a new program that has a barn full of pee cows. The parent orientation consisted of lectures on how parents who didn’t do their full load of volunteering for the program didn’t love their children. And then another hour of how to appropriately conform to the viewpoint of the coach.

    The frustrating part is that you feel you can’t dissent because it might cause hardship for your child. I spend these events biting my tongue and reminding myself that I’m not there to make friends but to support my kids’ interests. (But, according to my daughter, even thought I may not say anything, I”m not really good at concealing my reactions.

    • Well…MS….my thought on that is if you DON’T react you will explode. I’m sorry you have to deal with that…bunch o assholes.

      Because yes..goosestepping behind the pee cows proves you love your spawn. That doesn’t even make sense.

  • I want those cupcakes. And fuck Pee Cow. I hate Pee Cows.

    Funny story that just happened tonight. I’m not exactly sure how it relates, but I know you’re appreciate it. Oh, I’m preparing my child for life–that’s how it relates.

    We used to have a cat named Chili (we found her abandoned at Chili’s restaurant.). She died of oral cancer about 2 years ago. THIS IS NOT THE FUNNY PART.

    So tonight, here’s the conversation at my house:
    8YO Son: Mom, what’s in the pot?
    Me: That’s chili.
    8YO Son: You mean to tell me we’re eating our dead cat tonight for dinner?
    Everyone: *dies of laughter*

    I claim a parenting win.

  • Well, damn, now I want to bake vagina cupcakes.

    Also, I wanted to tell you that I really enjoy your blog. I’m not sure you’re really an Em, but you’re definitely not a Pee Cow. And thank you for that. The world would be a better place with fewer Pee Cows and more bloggers, like you, with a wonderfully irreverent sense of humor.

    Which is why I nominated you for the One Lovely Blog award.

  • I stay as far from the PTA as possible. I think about it every year for a few minutes and I just can’t make myself do it. These women are walking talking nightmares. Considering I went to my daughter’s volleyball game in camo shorts, a Nirvana tee shirt, and gray Converse I guess I’m an Em. Thank God!!

By Michelle


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