CHUNKY MONKEY AND WHAT HAPPENED?

"The Meanest Mother"




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 actualy 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,  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.