It started innocently enough. My daughter came home crying because Brittany Chen could multiply faster than her. Brittany Chen—that smug eight-year-old with her perfect pigtails and her mom who "doesn't believe in screen time."

So I did what any competitive parent would do: I enrolled us BOTH in a mental math course. Yes, both of us. Because if I was going to help Emma destroy Brittany Chen, I needed to know my enemy's tactics.

Week 1: The Humiliation Phase

The course started with "simple" exercises. Calculate 15% tips mentally. Easy, right?

Wrong.

The instructor asked me to calculate 15% of $47. My brain immediately did that thing where it plays the Windows shutdown sound and displays the blue screen of death. Meanwhile, my eight-year-old whispered, "It's seven dollars and five cents, Mommy."

I laughed nervously. "Honey, I think it's more like—"

"Seven dollars and FIVE cents," she insisted.

She was right. I immediately regretted every time I'd told her to "ask Daddy about math homework."

Week 2: The Addiction Phase

Something weird happened. I started practicing mental math everywhere. At Starbucks, I calculated the markup on my $7 latte (approximately 3,000%, but whatever). At Target, I figured out discounts before seeing the sale price. My husband caught me muttering numbers in my sleep.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"If gas is $4.37 per gallon and our tank holds 15 gallons..." I mumbled.

"Please stop," he begged.

But I couldn't stop. I was becoming... powerful.

Week 3: The Show-Off Phase

This is when things got ugly.

At the school bake sale, Jennifer asked everyone to pull out their phones to calculate how many cookies we needed if each of the 47 kids wanted 3 cookies, plus 20% extra for siblings.

"One hundred and sixty-nine," I announced, while everyone was still unlocking their screens.

Dead silence.

"Did you... already have your calculator open?" Jennifer asked suspiciously.

"No, I just—"

"She did it in her HEAD," Emma announced proudly. "My mom's a MATH GENIUS."

The other moms looked at me like I'd just admitted to making my own yogurt or enjoying kale.

Week 4: The Restaurant Incident

Never—and I cannot stress this enough—NEVER be the person who calculates the split check in their head at girls' night.

"Okay, so Sarah had the salmon at $24, plus her two wines at $12 each, that's $48, with tax and tip that's about $58..."

"Wait, slow down," Sarah said, pulling out her phone.

"Karen, you had the salad at $16, but you didn't finish your wine, so we shouldn't charge you full—"

"Are you seriously doing this without a calculator?" Karen interrupted.

"Linda, you owe $43, but since you drove, let's call it $40..."

By the end, I'd calculated everyone's exact amount, including tax and a 22% tip (because 20% was too easy and I wanted to show off).

Nobody was impressed. In fact, they looked disturbed. Like I'd just revealed I could speak to ghosts or enjoyed CrossFit.

The PTA Meeting Disaster

This was my downfall.

The PTA president was explaining the fundraising goals. "So if we need $3,000 and we have 150 families, that's..."

"Twenty dollars per family," I said. Out loud. Without being asked.

She paused. "Yes, and if only 60% participate—"

"Thirty-three dollars and thirty-three cents per participating family," I interrupted.

The room went quiet.

"But if we factor in the corporate matching—"

"Twenty-six sixty-seven," I blurted. I couldn't help myself. The numbers were just THERE, floating in my head, demanding to be said.

The PTA president looked at me with the expression reserved for people who bring homemade kombucha to potlucks.

"Would YOU like to be treasurer?" she asked, in a tone that wasn't really asking.

That's how I ended up managing the entire school's fundraising budget. Thanks, mental math.

The Brittany Chen Showdown

Remember Brittany Chen? The reason this all started?

The big moment came at the school's Math Olympics. Emma versus Brittany. The question: "What's 47 times 23?"

Brittany's fingers twitched—she was counting on them under the desk.

Emma just smiled. "One thousand and eighty-one."

Brittany's mom gasped. My daughter had won.

I should have been proud. I WAS proud. But then Emma said the words that haunt me to this day:

"My mom can do it even faster. She can do THREE-digit multiplication! Mom, show them!"

Twenty pairs of eyes turned to me.

"I... I don't think that's necessary—"

"MOM, SHOW THEM!"

And that's how I became the weirdo parent who does multiplication demonstrations at school events. Last week, someone introduced me as "Emma's mom—you know, the math one."

THE MATH ONE.

The Present Day

I still calculate tips mentally. I still figure out discounts instantly. But I've learned to hide it. I pull out my phone and pretend to use the calculator while my brain has already computed the answer. I've become a mental math secret agent, living a double life.

Sometimes I catch Emma doing the same thing—pretending to calculate while she already knows the answer. She gives me a little wink. We're in this together now, keeper of the suburban math secret.

Last week, a new family moved in. Their daughter is apparently "gifted at mathematics."

Emma looked at me. I looked at Emma.

"Mom," she said, "I think we need to up our game."

God help me, I'm already researching advanced calculus courses.

Brittany Chen won't know what hit her.

P.S. My husband just asked me to calculate our mortgage refinancing savings. I told him to use a calculator like a normal person. He said, "But you can do it in your head!" This is my life now. I did it in my head anyway—we'll save $47,329 over the life of the loan. Don't tell him I already knew that before he asked.