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The
Meanest Mother |

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I had the meanest mother in the whole
wide world. While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have
cereal, eggs, or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I
had to eat a sandwich. And you can guess, my supper was different than the
other kids' also. But at least I wasn't alone in my
sufferings. My sister and two brothers had the same mean mother as I
did.
My mother insisted upon knowing where
we were at all times. You'd think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends
were and
where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour,
that we be gone one hour or less -- not one hour and one minute. I
am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but
each time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt
was used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can
you imagine someone actually hitting a child just because he
disobeyed? Now you can begin to see how mean she really was.
We had to wear clean clothes and
take a bath. The other kids always wore their clothes for
days. We reached the height of insults because she made our clothes
herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we have to have a
mother who made us feel different from our friends? The worst is yet
to come.
We had to be in bed by nine each night and up at eight the next
morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends. So
while they slept, my mother actually had the nerve to break
the child-labor law. We
had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel
things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking
of mean things to do to us.
She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even if it
killed us - and it nearly did.
By the time we were teenagers, she was much wiser and our life became even
more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to
come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates and
friends come to the door to get us. If I spent the night with a
girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I was really
there. I never had the chance to elope to Mexico. That is if
I'd had a boyfriend to elope with. I forgot to mention, while my
friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old-fashioned
mother refused to let me date until the age of 15 and 16. Fifteen,
that is, if you dated only to go to a school function. And that was
maybe twice a year.
Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie in
bed "sick", like our friends did, and miss school. If our
friends had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay
home from school. Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our
friends' report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red
for failing. My mother, being as different as she was, would settle
for nothing less than ugly black marks.
As the years rolled by, first one and the other of us was put to
shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother
behind us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed
the pleasure of being a drop-out.
My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four children,
a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us have ever
been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my brothers
served his time in the service of this country. And whom do we
have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You're right, our
mean mother. Look at the things we missed. We never got to
march in a protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards,
and a million and one other things that our friends did.
She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.
Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three children.
I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my children call
me mean.
Because, you see, I thank God
He gave me the meanest mother in the whole world.

Written By:
Bobbie Pingaro
© 1967
Click here to email the author!
A
special thank-you to all the "mean" moms out there!
We love you!
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