Editor's note: This contains an inspirational letter to the editor that countless newspapers have published since the 1970s. The author is unknown. 

 

Dear editor,

I have copies of “The World’s Meanest Mom” printed in the Press Gazette on May 4, 1995, in another area paper on May 8, 1994 ...

For those not familiar with it, here’s the blessing.

Many of us can relate to most or all of it. Praise God!

 

The World’s Meanest Mom 

As a child, I had the meanest mom in the world. She was real mean!

When other kids ate candy for breakfast, she made me eat cereal, eggs and toast.

When other kids had coke and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich.

As you can guess, my dinner too, was different from the other kids.

My mother insisted on 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.

She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, that we would be gone for one hour or less.

She was real mean!

I am ashamed to admit it, but she actually had the nerve to break the child labor laws! She made us work! We had to wash the dishes, make all the beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things!

I believe she lay awake thinking up mean things for us to do.

She always insisted we tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!

By the time we were teenagers, she was much wiser, and our life became more unbearable.

Nothing of this tooting the horn of the car for us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates come to the door to get us!

My mother was a complete failure!

None of us had ever been arrested . . . or beaten a mate. My brother served his time in the service of his country . . . willingly; no protesting.

And whom do we have to blame for this terrible way we turned out.

You guessed it . . . our mean mother!

Look at all of the things we missed. We never got to take part in a riot. Never burned draft cards or got to do a million and one things our friends did.

Our mean mother made us grow up into God-fearing, educated honest adults.

Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my children and grandchildren. I can stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my children call me mean!

You see . . . I thank God He gave me the meanest mom in the world! Aren’t you!

 

God bless all moms: some (with) broken hearts because they’re estranged from their children; single moms rearing (kids) alone, too many with no support — financially or emotionally — from the fathers of their children.

Many moms do it exceptionally well, wanting to do the best for them.

Some balance home chores with full- or part-time jobs.

God bless all moms, all of us, and all children who are gifts from God (Psalm 127:3), as only He can. Maranatha!

 

CHRYS HOLLEY

Milton

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