Mom stereotypes

The moms you know and sometimes love — to hate

Purist Granola Mom
Also known as the “You Aren’t a Real Mom If You Had an Epidural, Didn’t Breastfeed, Home-School or Do a Home Water Birth with Wiccan Doula in Attendance” Mom. Close relative of the “No One Else Has Ever Given Birth Before” Mom. After she’s sat down with her organic rooibos tea, opened wide her hemp tunic and ensured her first-grader has a good latch, she’ll happily tell you where you went wrong as a parent.

BlackBerry Mom
She natters endlessly at empty space, pretends to hear her children by responding with a steady thrum of uh-huhs, and has thumbs that could be featured in Muscle and Fitness. This satellite-signal cyborg with hardware fused to her hands and ears is at every soccer game, dance class and birthday party (but not really).

Flash Card Mom
One look at the Mandarin drill cards she uses in a pinch as coasters — and you’ll know whom you’re dealing with. That, and her fridge stocked with performance-enhancing yogurts emblazoned with cartoon brains and those annoying pictures of kids with Einstein hair. “I cram, therefore I am” is this mom’s parenting mantra — because if there’s a time to be teaching Cartesian dualism, it’s after the first positive pregnancy test.

Fashionista Mom
It’s not just that her baby’s Burberry tights cost more than your house. Or that her thigh-high Italian boots coordinate with her diaper bag. And wipes. Or even the fact that perennially photo-ready Mommy never looks like she had just enough time in the morning to grope around in the dark for a lopsided Walmart bra with an underwire missing. Her kid wears more designer labels on each tiny buttock than your closet will ever house in a lifetime.

Sports Mom from Hell
Enough already with the sideline rage, threatening the ref and insisting to other parents that her Joey is NHL material. Just throw on the size 6X uniform and play the damn game yourself. If you suspect you might be a Sports Mom from Hell, a couple of helpful pointers: T-ball is not a full-contact sport, and telling a three-year-old to “play through the pain” doesn’t qualify as cheerleading.