The Meanest Mother – by Irene Hopkins
I had the meanest mother in the world. While other kids ate candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs, and 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’ dinners also. But at least I wasn’t alone in my sufferings. My sister and two brothers had the same mean mother that I had. My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You would think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing at all times. She insisted if we said we would be gone an hour, that we be gone one hour and not a minute more. The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night and up early the next morning. We couldn’t sleep till noon like our friends. So while they slept, my mother 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 just thinking up mean things to do to us. She always insisted upon our telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth — even if it killed us — and it nearly did. By the time were were teenagers, she was much wiser and our lives 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 that while my friends were dating at the mature ages of 12 and 13, my old-fashioned mother refused to let me date until the age of 16, and that was only to school-sponsored functions twice a year. My mother was a complete failure as a mother. None of her children were ever arrested or beaten. Each of my brothers served his time in the military. And whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You are 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 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 that He gave me the meanest mother in the whole wide world.
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