I had the meanest mother in the world. While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs and toast. When other kids had French Fries and cokes for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you might guess, my supper was different from theirs too. But I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two brothers had the same mean mother I did.
My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd have thought we were a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing. If we said we'd be gone an hour, she insisted that it not be an hour and five minutes. I am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually spanked us, not once, but several times when we did as we pleased. Can you imagine disciplining a child because he/she disobeyed?
The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed each night by nine and up early the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends,; in fact, my mother broke the child labor law by making us WORK. We had to wash dishes, make beds, and learn to cook and all sorts of exhausting jobs. I believe she lay awake nights thinking up mean things to do to us.
She always insisted on our telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even if it killed us – and sometimes it nearly did.
By the time we were teenagers our lives became even more unbearable. There was none of this tooting the car horn for us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us. I forgot to mention that while our friends were dating at 12 and 13, my old-fashioned mother refused to let us date until the age of 16 or past. Sixteen, that is, if we dated to go to school functions or to church services.
As you see, my mother was a complete failure. None of us has ever been arrested. Each of my brothers served his time in service for his country. Look at all the things we missed – we never got to march in a protest parade, nor take part in a riot, burn draft cards and a million other things our friends did. And whom have we got to blame? That's right. Our mean mother. She forced us to grow up into God-fearing educated, honest adults.
It is with this background that I now have become a mother. When my three children call me mean, I stand a little taller and filled with pride. You see, I thank God for the meanest mother in the whole world, and I want to be more like her.