This year in honor of Mother’s Day, I decided to write something special to the
best meanest mama in the world.
When I was young, my sister and I used to pee out the window of the second story of our house. My mom would reach her limit on how many times she believed us when we would plea for the bathroom, and peeing out the window was the best choice left. Peeing in the closet was second best (or worst…depending on your view point). We tried to pee like normal kids, but Mama wouldn’t let us. We would tip-toe as far as we dared at night after we were sent to bed, and retreat when threats of spankings came our way.
Speaking of spanking, we knew who we had to fear in our house. Daddy would whip his belt out of his jeans with great flare, but that is as far as he went. Mama loved spanking us so much she did it ALL the time. AND she never would let Daddy. Mama had us pick our own switch off the bushes. That’s how you know you have the meanest mama in the world: she makes you pick your own torture device.
Other mamas like to take their children to McDonalds for a treat… or say, a Happy Meal. Not my mama. The only time I went to McDonalds was with friends. Furthermore, my mama would sing songs about McDonalds milkshakes being like polluted lakes and french fries between your toes. My mama insisted on eating at home. AND she hardly EVER bought us soda. She was so mean.
My sister remembers this much better than I do, but in the summer, when it was the hottest outside, Mama would lock us out. (She always waited until it was hot.) She wouldn’t let us come inside, even to use the bathroom. AND, when we did, it wasn’t to watch TV. Nope. No TV for us. Mean Mama made us read instead of watching our non-existent TV. If we complained about being bored, she would say, “I can give you something to do.” That meant that you better skedaddle. Because “something to do” really means “chores.” We were seldom bored enough for that.
If we were lucky enough to go to the pool, Mama wouldn’t let us just run and jump in when we got there. We had to wear sunscreen THEN wait for hours before we could get into the water. If we had been fighting before, we would have to wait even longer while our friends and siblings swam. She never let us swim in the deep end without her watching. We would have to first go ask, then go to the deep end to jump off the boards.
We NEVER got away with skipping church. She had to meet all of our friends families before we could play. We had to do our own laundry much younger than our friends did. Our pantry was full of homemade canned green beans, tomatoes, and beets. We had frozen peaches, strawberries, corn, and pickles all winter. AND she made us help her clean the kitchen. When it was time to clean our room, she would come check to make sure it was cleaned. If it wasn’t cleaned good enough for her, she would have us redo it. Worst of all, she wouldn’t let us say the “b word.”
I can say it now though:
And there isn’t one thing she can do about it.
Happy Mother’s Day to my meanie mama. I wouldn’t trade my horrible childhood for a million dollars.