World’s ‘Meanest’ Mom May Also Be the Best

Published November 3, 1983. I don’t know how to say this. And after I do, some of you may want to report my wife Susan to the authorities. You see, on some occasions, our children believe she is the world’s meanest mother.

This was brought to my attention not long ago when we came home from church. One of our children went straight to the refrigerator, got out the ice cream carton, and started dishing up a generous helping. Susan said, “Not until after dinner,” and the begrudging reply was, “Is that all mothers are for?”

The incident reminded me of an article I have had for some time. I don’t even know who wrote it. It first appeared in the Phoenix Gazette, and if any of you know the author, let me know and we will give credit where credit is due. It is titled “The Worlds’ Meanest Mom” and it goes as follows:

A woman recalled the painful years when she was growing up. She said, “As a child I had the meanest mother in the whole world. She was real mean. When other kids ate candy for breakfast, she made me eat cereal, eggs, and toast. When others had Coke and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can guess, my dinner was different from other kids’.

My mother insisted on 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 what we were doing. She insisted that if we said we’d be gone an hour, that we would be gone one hour or less. She was real mean.

I am ashamed to admit it, but she actually had the nerve to break the child labor law. She made us work! We had to wash all the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she lay awake nights thinking up mean things for us to do.

She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 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. 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 I was 15 or 16!

My mother was a complete failure as a mother. None of us has ever been arrested, or beaten by a mate. Each of my brothers served his time in the service of his country. And whom do we have to blame for this terrible way we turned out? You’re right, our mean mother.

Look at all the things we missed. We never got to take part in a riot, burn drafts cards, and a million and one other things that our friends did. She made us grow up to be God-fearing, educated, honest adults.

Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my children call me mean. You see, I thank God he gave me the meanest mother in the world.