I’m not going to pretend that my household is the epitome of perfection, or that my children are angels who don’t do anything wrong.
“Oh, Susan, you poor dear. My little Brandon was potty-trained from the womb and dear little Lisa has always loved sharing her toys with her siblings!”
For anyone who knows me, hearing this confession may come as a shock. For the most part, in public at least, my kids are polite and well-behaved. They say their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ when asking for treats and know that it’s important to share. But dear Lord, let me tell you— I cannot say it’s been a bed of roses or that it’s come without its share of hardships and battles.
On any given day, my kids have a list of at least one hundred reasons why they’re mad at me— and I have no issues admitting I am what some (including my sons) would call the meanest mom in the world.
How did I earn such a coveted title, you may ask? What kind have tortures have I afflicted on these poor souls? My most recent attack has been denying them treats before dinner. After that? I told the youngest he would have to share. (gasp!)
I’d like to say that I rock the “mean mom” title with pride— but my identity changes often. Sometimes I’m a naggy mom, sometimes I’m a strict mom, but most of the time (at least according to my kids) I am the meanest mom in the world.
And you know what? I’m totally fine with that— because I don’t want to raise little jerks.
Yup. I said it— little jerks. I believe that our children are a reflection of ourselves, and, quite frankly, I’ll be damned if mine will be running around with a self-entitled smirk and attitude, disrespecting their seniors, and treating people like they’re trash.
I’m sorry. That’s just not gonna happen.
Now, please don’t get it twisted. For the most part, I’m pretty laid back.
I don’t have a problem letting my little ones have the occasional treat or junky snack. I don’t freak out when the oldest, who is currently in the midst of potty training, has an accident and leaves me a smelly gift in the middle of the floor (or, occasionally, the heating vent— seriously, don’t ask). I understand that everyone has bad days and aren’t always acting or feeling their best.
But there are limits that must not be crossed— and I, of course, become the mean mom for enforcing them.
Actual depiction of how my children see me in their mind’s eye:
According to my children, none of their other friends have to pick up their toys, and they’re all allowed to create crayon murals on their bedroom walls.
In fact, vegetables have been totally banned from Chris’s house, and Jessica’s parents let her eat as much ice cream as she wants! Now, I can assure you, that 90% of these claims are 100% false— but my desire to maintain rules and regulations always means I wear the “mean mom” crown.
As Christine Organ from Scary Mommy so perfectly explained:
“I am close with both of my children, and I truly believe that I am a safe space for them. But they are often annoyed by me, frustrated by my expectations, or downright mad at me enforcing silly things like ‘rules’.”
I’d be lying if I said being a mean mom always feels good. I don’t like seeing my sons upset and can’t stand to see them cry.
I want to be their role model, their biggest supporter, and the place they go when they need comfort and guidance— but what I don’t want (or need) to be is their friend.
In today’s society, children have enough friends. Whether it be through social media, school, or extracurricular activities, our kids constantly encounter peer pressure, bad behavior and inarguably bad examples of how to act.
Of course I love my sons for who they are and think the world dances in their eyes.
But I also know that to reach their full potential they require structure, limits, and rules— and if that makes me the “mean mom”, then it’s a title I’ll wear with pride.
Hear Kristina Kuzmic hilariously discussing the topic below!
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