Why I’m Pissed My Mommy’s Not Chinese

The closest I'm going to get to Chinese values is Mulan.

Unless you’re living under a parenting rock you’ve probably heard about Amy Chua, and her new book Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior. Chua, it seems, believes the only way to raise a child is through military-like discipline including forced piano practice and pop calculus quizzes before dinner.  The mommy blogosphere of course is in an uproar. Moms like nothing more than to freak out about the latest parenting style de jour. Hell, I’d be surprised to hear my mom even had a parenting style. From what I can tell she’s making this shit up as she goes along.

I’ve got to side with Chua on this one. I’d be WAY better off with a Chinese mother than the one I got. My mom’s feeble attempt at instilling me with ‘discipline” is creating a flimsy chore chart. For the first couple weeks it was great.  I got stickers for everything I did. Now she barely remembers it’s there.  I’m quite sure her diligence in teaching me a solid work ethic will pay off one day when I land a job as head cashier at Target. If I’m lucky. Also, thanks to her, the chance I’m going to get a gig at in the Philharmonic is pretty much nil. Nobody’s forcing me to play the violin four hours a day. Au contraire. Mom’s  idea of introducing me to classical music is showing me Bugs Bunny in the Rabbit of Seville. Pathetic.

So, does my mom have the eye of the Tiger Mom?  Not bloody likely. Not only that, she makes a mediocre stir-fry. I am doomed.