Meanest mom in the world....

[CityClucks]

I had the meanest mom in the world, too - I'm still apologizing to her for being such a brat, and having fits over things that today I realize were totally ridiculous. Boy, she sure learned a lot after I left home...she used to be SO DUMB, but now I cringe when I remember how I acted.

Hang in there - your daughter will remember you as being wise...it may take many, many years, but still...!

 

[Kelly G]

Quote:
I'm 42....and I'm STILL apologizing to my Mom for all the rotten tantrums I threw...I just knew she was trying to ruin my life!!!

Thanks, Mom!!!! I'm still sorry - and I really, really love you!

 

[B. Saffles Farms]

My Dad found this poem several years ago when I was still very young. He framed it and gave it to his Mom. I didnt think mush about it back then. But now that Im an adult and have kids of my own, I understand and realize just how true this poem is. I just wanted to share.






The Meanest Mother In The World
Copyright

1967 by Bobbie Pingaro



I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As 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. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking up 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 teen-agers, 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 were 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 then 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.

 

[debilorrah]

You were not too harsh at all. We put a lock on our bedroom door and my stepdaughter, 19, has been full of attitude since we did it. Oh well! Get a job and buy your own tuff!!!

 

[gaberdeen]

Stay strong. Kids really do need limits. However they will test those limits to no ends. I have a step-son who I had to boot out onto the streets for awhile in order for him to finally get the idea that steling from me was not ok. Tough love can be hard but sometimes it's the only way they get the message. Good luck.

 

[gritsar]

Mags, send her to me for the summer! I guarantee by the end of the first week she'll realize that I am the meanest mother in the world and she needs to be falling and kissing your feet.

If she doesn't believe you, she can ask my kids.

 

[Boyd]

I think I am going to write to the "worlds strictest parents" and see if they want to do a show out here

I am the mean one though, my wife just catches the flack inadvertently

 

[briana1975]

I have been told that I am the meanest mom ever. My seventeen year old step- son doesn't call me mean, cause he knows better, but he has said out of me, his dad or his mom I am the only one that will actually stick to the punishment. His mom gives in, in an hour of two. Due to this we see him less and less. He doesn't have to listen and be respectful and responsible at home. I have 2 more boys and I refuse to treat him any diffrent than my own kids. They have chores, they need to talk with respect to people and try to treat other people the way they would like to be treated. Mine call me mean though. It's the 6 year olds favorite thing to say when he is mad.

 

[b.hromada]

B. Saffles Farms :

My Dad found this poem several years ago when I was still very young. He framed it and gave it to his Mom. I didnt think mush about it back then. But now that Im an adult and have kids of my own, I understand and realize just how true this poem is. I just wanted to share.






The Meanest Mother In The World
Copyright

1967 by Bobbie Pingaro



I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As 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. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking up 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 teen-agers, 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 were 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 then 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.

I love this!! Thank you for sharing it with us. My mom has been gone now for 20 years, she died at the age of 62! I still miss my mom to this day, and nearly never does a day go by, that I don't think of her, and look up and say, Yep, mom you sure were right. thanks again.​

 

[MagsC]

Thanks for all the support and laughs!

I told my sisters there had been a "death in the family", when they looked at me, I had to explain that it was the cell phone for a few months,lol.
I know its the best thing. Right now she is trying to get into my good graces by doing her chores without being reminded. Hmm. That wont do it child!!!! She has to get caught up before we discuss the phone again.
I do have plenty of things she can help with this summer too.(Aww Mom!!! I can hear it now!!)