Wednesday, March 11, 2009

How to be a Mean Mom!

How many times when you were a kid did you say "When I have kids, I"m going to ......blah, blah, blah"? I can still hear myself saying (perhaps yelling) those words to my mother when I was a kid. Kids know it all. Yeah, right.

When I became a Mom for the first time, it was to two little boys. I was so excited-finally I was going to be a MOM! (I became a foster mom in 1986) Eric was four and his younger brother Scot (Scooter) was about sixteen months old. My Mom was coming in from Arizona to help me care for the boys because I worked full time in retail management. Friday night arrived and I was busy putting a crib together and when that job was finished, the boys arrived-hungry and nervous. Just like me.

Who knew that making dinner, washing dishes, giving the boys a bath (and myself in the process), reading bedtime stories and getting the boys to fall asleep could take so much energy? Surely, not me. The next morning was crazy, what with making breakfast, washing dishes, getting beds made, getting the boys dressed, taking them to the park (get rid of some of that energy), snack time, play time, yicks- is it bed time yet? No?? Oh my gosh, it was lunch time....okay make a good lunch-no crumby sandwiches, wash the dishes, entertain the boys, oh my God, I was exhausted and overwhelmed!

The door bells rings and it was my Mom, oh thank God! I needed a HUG!!! I was almost in tears, this was simply too much work, I was not cut out to be a mom, no way...and these were boys-not babies!!! What was my mother's response? Did I get that hug I really needed? Well, she listened to me and then looked at me real stern like, (yeah she gave me the MOM look!) took a step backwards, and then told me (in kind of a real hard voice, not quite yelling, but you know- the MOM voice) that I would be a good mother, I was a good person with a kind heart, and that I needed to get my ACT together - she didn't raise me to be a whiner! Hmmmm....where was my hug??? She then told me to go upstairs and take a nap, she'd watch the boys and then I was to come downstairs prepared to be a MOM.

Yes Mame!

Well, that was over twenty-three years ago. She watched me foster many, many children, supported me when I adopted my children and came to my home to help out when she could. My oldest daughter is going to be twenty nine years old this year, I can't believe it either. Where has the time gone? What kind of mother am I? Well, truth be told, I'm a lot like my Mom was. Sure, some things I do differently, but overall I think I'm a lot like her.

When my oldest daughter had been with me about six months I bought a wall plague that has a terrific saying on it, that reminded me of my own wonderful Mother. It has become my own Mother Motto, something I live by. I thought I would share it with you...

How to Be a Mean Mother author unknown

A mean mother never allows candy or sweets to take the place of a well-balanced meal. A mean mother insists on knowing where her children are at all time, who their friends are and what they do. A mean mother breaks the Child Labor Law by making her children work~~~washing dishes, making beds, learning to cook and doing other cruel and unpleasant chores. A mean mother produces teenagers who are wiser and more sensible. A mean mother can smile with secret delight and pride when she hears her own grandchildren call their parents "mean." What the world needs now are more Mean Mothers ~~~~ and Mean Fathers!

Thanks Mom for being a great teacher!

1 comment:

JoLyn said...

What a terrific tribute. She sounds like a wonderful mother - and so do you!

The Family

The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~Erma Bombeck

Genealogy Pox, author unknown


SYMPTOMS: Continual complaint as to need for names, dates and places. Patient has a blank expressions, sometimes deaf to spouse and children. Has no taste for work of any kind, except feverishly looking through records at libraries and courthouses.
Has a compulsion to write letters. Swears at mailman when he doesn't leave mail. Frequents strange places such as cemeteries, ruins, and remote desolate country areas. Makes secret night calls and hides phone bills from spouse. Mumbles to self. Has strange, faraway look in eyes.


TREATMENT: Medication is useless. This disease is not fatal, but gets progressively worse. Patient should attend genealogy workshops, subscribe to genealogical magazines and be given a quiet corner in the house where he/she can be alone.

REMARKS: The unusual nature of this disease is that the sicker the patient gets, the more he or she enjoys it!