Just call me "Mean Mommy"

Believe it or not, I actually DO have real life mommy friends. My foul mouth and “hold nothing that swims around in my weird brain back” does not scare EVERYONE away. A lot of people, but not everyone.

The ones that have stuck it out for the long haul know pretty much exactly what to expect from me: truth. Whether they like it or not, whether I want to say it or not… sometimes I just can’t help myself. BUT, they also know that i’m not going to judge them for their differences, shit on them if I disagree, or even think any less of them.

I’m the person you go to when you aren’t looking for someone to give you the answer you WANT. Lots of people only want to hear what they want to hear and get all pissy when you don’t cater to that. Or they take “your” advice after the 5th person tells them shit they didn’t want to hear, when they refused to take it from you when you gave it to them in the first place. UGH.
 Why even ASK for advice then? I’m not going to coddle your grown ass. That ain’t me!
I’m lucky enough to have friends these days that understand that and don’t pull the pissy on me. Not usually, anyway. I also don’t like to give advice… pretty much EVER, because life is so damn subjective and what works for me may not work for you and vice-versa. I keep my opinions to myself unless I am specifically asked “Hey, what would you do?” and damnit, if you ask me, i’ll give it to you.

Over the past week I had a little texty convo with a fellow mommy who was chatting with me about the kids starting school and how she’s afraid she’s going to be the type of mom who doesn’t ever say no. For some reason or another- just ends up being the one to say yes to everything.
I don’t go into the whole “Oh well you SHOULD be doing THIS” shit… because I know how obnoxiously annoying it is to be TOLD what to do by someone who isn’t a doctor (and even then.. doctors can be douchefaces) what to and not to do with your own flesh and blood creation, so I just tell my friends, if they’re looking for some kind of advice, what I do. And my response to the saying yes disease?
“I’m the mean mommy”
It’s not like it’s some new revelation for me, but I guess putting it into those words to someone can be slightly confusing the first time.

No, I don’t think life is about discipline and punishment and being nothing but a horrid biotch all the time- especially not to little kids who are simply just being KIDS and sometimes kids can’t help but to be assholey in nature… but damnit, it’s hard. And it sucks. And it sucks that it’s hard, and it also sucks that we have to be the disciplinarians and the bad guys and the ones who catch the brunt of the anger from being all of those things all the friggin’ time.

So, I figured- if it’s going to have to be done, which it is, why not enjoy it just a little? Just a teensy-tiny little smidgen? Why not have at least ONE person in the house not miserable when the other is screaming and acting like a mini-mutant ninja asshole?
Do I WANT to tell you no? Not really, not always. I’m not THAT mean. But if you ask me for something, and I rationally explain to you why that isn’t going to/can’t/is impossible to have happen, and you continue to whine at me as if it’s the end of the fucking world, the sky is coming down, you are absolutely going to DIE unless you do/have/see/watch this one stupid ass thing, and my rational rationale wasn’t good enough? Then i’m going to enjoy saying no to you again. And again if necessary; and AGAIN after that (we know the little turds don’t give up easily).

That’s right. I’ve got a fee-vah.
The only cure is more NO.

If I felt shitty every time I said no to my kids (which is ALL the fucking time, because they are little, and little kids ask to do the stupidest crap and go to the most expensive places that are the farthest away ALL the time), I might not be able to pull myself out of bed in the morning. That’s a LOT of No’ing to feel crappy about.
Instead, I will be the evil cheerful No’er.
Mean Mommy? So be it! I own that shit. Give me a merit badge, i’ll wear it proudly.

One can only hope that it will have the intended effect of eventually having kids who don’t ask for unrealistic bullshit. Realistic… maybe even with a HINT of unrealistic, I can consider. Completely unrealistic and you’re getting a big fat happy NO. Deal with it.
I realize that wishing for realistic requests is unrealistic in itself, but damnit- a mom can dream.
Plus, I never claimed my logic made any sense.

Posted on August 6, 2012 by Holdin' Holden 13 Comments
Holdin' Holden

About Holdin' Holden



  • I own being the mean Mommy, too. Sometimes it sucks, but I don’t want to raise an entitled douchebag.

  • i feel much better now. my just 10 year old asked for a tv in his room, a hot tub and a recliner for his birthday. At the very least, couldn’t he just have a kitten? I tried not to HA! HA! HA!very loudly but i just couldn’t help it.

  • I agree with this post and the below comments.

    No prevents your kids from growing up to be spoiled self-entitled dicks.

  • Teaching kids that no, means no and not maybe, wer are teaching them life lessons. If you teach your boys that no means no, then when he’s a teenager and a girl says no, he’ll respect it. If you teach your girls that no means no, you are teaching her to stand her ground and not be pressured into doing things she’s not ready for. In my opinion anyways. When my son was a toddler, I would come home from work and feel guilty saying no to something. My husband at the time explained to me in the above term and it made sense. It helped me not feel guilty.

  • I love being the mean mom…I am not meant to be the freeking friend, I am not your buddy I am your mom….hopefully I have raised kids who have manners and morals and a work for what you want attitude…if they hate me at least once I am doing the mom thing right….

  • I sooo agree! If parents now days would say no more often we wouldnt be raising teens/young adults who think the world owes them something!

  • My son calls me the “NO Machine.” It has a nice ring to it! Kind of super-human-y. Like a transformer.

  • Here is Ann Landers article that my mama had on our fridge in the old days of spankings:

    My mom seemed like the meanest mother in the world when I was growing up. I used to look at her and tell her the other kids had nice mom’s, why did I get the mean one? So one day she brought out my baby book and mad me read the newspaper clipping she put in it when I was first born. I would like to share it with everyone.


    I had the meanest mother in the world. While other kids had candy for breakfast, I had to eat cereal, eggs and toast.

    While other kids had Cokes and candy for lunch, I had a sandwich. As you can guess, my dinner was different from other kids’ dinners, too.

    My mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You’d think we were on a chain gang something. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing.

    I am ashamed to admit it, but she actually had the nerve to break the child labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make the beds and learn how to cook. That women must have stayed awake nights thinking up things for us kids to do.

    And she always insisted that 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 even more unbearable.

    None of this tooting the car horn for us to come running; she embarrassed us no end by insisting that the boys come to the door to get us.

    I forgot to mention that most of our friends were allowed to date at the mature age 12 and 13, but our old-fashioned mother refused to let us date until we were 15.

    She really raised a bunch of squares. None of us was ever arrested for shoplifting or busted for dope. And who do we have to thank for this? You’re right, our mean mother.

    I am trying to raise my children to stand a little straighter and taller and I am secretly tickled to pieces when my children call me mean.

    I thank god for giving me the meanest mother in the world. Our country doesn’t need a good five cent cigar. It needs more mean mothers like mine.
    —-Blessings On That Wonderful Women.

    Thank you Ann Landers for printing this in January of 1977. With out this I wouldn’t be the way I am, and my kids wouldn’t be the way they are.

    To the most important person, I have to say thank you for being such a mean mother.

  • I am the mean mommy too. I have three kids of my own and my oldest is 15 and sometimes says,” Can you ever say anything other than no?” ha, ha, ha.

    Just wait until your kids have friends that are NEVER told no and you have them and their parents saying you are the mean mom.

  • I have been known to be mean mom also. I think all of us have. My daughter got a bad grade in a class, so asked her why and what she didn’t understand about it. She told me. So instead of grounding her and taking stuff away I made her give me a three page report on the down fall of the Roman Empire. She was not happy.

  • So glad I am not the only mean mom out there. My son is only 2. I am totally cataloging aome of your responses in my mind for future use. Thanks for the inspiration

  • When my son was little, he had the ‘mean mom scale’. He would usually through sobs tell me how I rated on that scale. He never good quite understand me laughing in his face and telling him “good, that means I’m doing my job!” He also saw what happened with his older sister when she would say “You’re embarrassing me!” And whatever I was doing I did more and BIGGER! Now he is a teenager and is very careful about NOT saying “You’re embarrassing me!” He gives me a look that I respond with ” What?? Am I embarrassing you?” He gets a look himself and says “no, no not at all” LOL! MEAN moms unite! We are raising decent kids!