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The world needs more “mean” parents
Earlier this week, I saw someone post something like this on her Facebook status:
“My parents were mean to me because they made me do chores, have a curfew and made me get a job. They also insisted I do well in school and work for the things I wanted. They brought me up with good morals, a good work ethic and respect for the law.”
Back in the 1990s, I could not wait to move out of my parents’ house because of the above paragraph.
When I brought home a “C” on my report card, I was grounded from going to a school dance – and the dances were held every single Friday night in my hometown.
When I turned 16, my parents made me get a job. Which means, ever since I was 16 years old, I have had a job. My first job was at McDonald’s where I dealt with grumpy customers day in and day out. I was there for four long years. BUT before I was allowed to quit working for Ronald, I had to have another job. So, after Ronald, I went to work for Mr. Bob Evans as a server for two years where I also endured the same grumpy customers who rarely tipped and wanted to order off the children’s menu even though they were in their 40s (true story!).
When I was in high school, I had the meanest parents on the planet because they never let me go to this place called “Jammers” – a club for teenagers. EVERYONE went there on the weekends. The first time I went there, I was 22 and was shocked at what I saw. That night, I went home and was glad my parents denied me the privilege of going there as a teenager.
When I started to date Seth, now my husband, my mom put a limit on how often I saw him during the summer. Four nights a week only. No exception to the rule. There are weeks now I would do anything to have THREE nights of peace and quiet and alone time! Time to go out with my girlfriends! I miss those days when I could just call one of them up and see if they wanted to “hang out.” Now I have to make a date to see my friends because we have to clear our busy schedules.
Today, I see teenagers walking around the mall groping each other. I see girls wearing next to nothing on their bodies. I see more underwear coming out of pants than I ever thought I’d ever see from young boys. I see body piercings on every body part known to man, and I wonder how those teenagers expect to ever get a real job in society. I hear the way teenagers talk and I wonder if they ever took an English or speech class.
So, yes, when I was growing up, my parents were MEAN, but thank goodness they were because who knows where I’d be today if it wasn’t for my MEAN parents.
And before you ask, yes, I am called MEAN every single day by my now 7-year-old son. The other day he said I was “mean” because I would not allow him to take his Halloween vampire teeth into school to scare the other children.
Perhaps if there were more “mean” parents in today’s society, we would have less bullying; more respect for everyone; and our world would be a better place to live.
I enjoyed reading this story immensely. It reminded me of my own childhood and the things I was and was not allowed to get away with. I am 62. I went to work also at 16. I am the better for it. I raised my son the same way. He went to work at 16, also for Bob Evans. All of us worked around the Public. Combat pay should have been included. But you learn a lot of things from the Public. You learn what you don’t want to become. And fast, too! I think “mean” parents are loving, caring parents, who are the ones who really have their finger on the world, and don’t want their child involved in it. I was mean, and now my son is mean as well to his own children. They are wonderful, respectful and know the words, thank you and please, I am sorry, It is my fault. etc. No cop outs allowed. Today’s children don’t take a book to read it. It makes me sick that the parenting in homes are done by the child. Parents do not know how to parent. They are afraid of what their kid will do. Such a shame. Imagine what the world will be like when this generation rolls out of puberty. I shutter to think. I had corporal punishment. Weeping willow tree branches across my legs, butt, back. I learned. quick, what mom and Dad did might be cruel to some. For me, it was simply punishment, and I bear no psyche problems. Now deceased, I still thank my parents for loving me as they did.
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