- June 29, 2022
While other kids got to eat fast food each night or boxed mac ‘n cheese, we got home-cooked meals. They got to sit in front of the TV when they ate while watching reruns of “Home Improvement” and “Boy Meets World.” We had to sit at the table as a family, bow our heads to
While other kids got to eat fast food each night or boxed mac ‘n cheese, we got home-cooked meals. They got to sit in front of the TV when they ate while watching reruns of “Home Improvement” and “Boy Meets World.” We had to sit at the table as a family, bow our heads to pray before we ate, then went around the table to talk about our day.
Our momma had to know where we were at all times. You’d think we were felons or something. She had to know who our friends were before we went anywhere with them, and if we stayed at a friend’s house, she had to know the parents. There were absolutely NO exceptions. If not, your butt stayed home.
Other kids got to pick out the clothes they wanted. Butt cheeks hanging out, hooters flashed to the world, and the cute crop tops that were stylin’ in the 90s. I had to have the fingertip rule on any skirt, the shirt didn’t show any cleavage or belly button, and I even had to wear the big ole’ shoulder pads that I absolutely hated. I had to dress like a lady, and if I argued or got lippy, my butt got whaled in the JCPenney dressing room.
When others had a can of soda pop and a Tastykake for lunch, we had sandwiches with delicious, balanced snacks. On our napkin had a written note by Mom saying how much she loved us.
We never wanted to admit it, but she had the audacity to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work. We had to learn to take the clothes off the line, hang towels up, clear off the table, wash dishes, dust, vacuum, burn papers, and other kinds of really cruel jobs. I know she got so much joy thinking up what her slaves could do for her each day. I mean, after all, she did work full time.
On Sundays, instead of getting to sleep in, she drug us out of bed to go to church at 9 a.m. Skipping a Sunday was unheard of. You better be sick, or you would be at church praising the Lord each Sunday. Again, NO exceptions. The Lord fueled us for the week ahead.
If she didn’t like the friend we were hanging around with, she told us. She didn’t like us hanging around someone that could be a bad influence on us and put us down a wrong road. If she liked them, she told us we needed to have more friends like them. Mom told us who she did and didn’t like; she wasn’t shy. (AND still isn’t shy, haha!)
When other kids got home from school, they grabbed a bag of chips and had no one who even asked about their day. Meanwhile, we often came home to warm baked cookies with a glass of milk and a mother who wanted to hear all the details about our day.
She always told us if we just told the truth, we would get in less trouble. Even if we did try to lie, she knew just by the looks on our face or possibly read our minds. It’s a skill all moms get over years of practice.
When we back talked, we got the smackdown. Ain’t nobody back talking to Momma! You knew better and didn’t want to even go there. It was hard for me as a teen to learn to just keep my dang mouth shut. How many weekends I could have actually spent with friends or my boyfriend instead of being a prisoner in my own bedroom.
While others got to be out all hours of the night, I had to be home by curfew. Mom couldn’t go to sleep until she knew all her babies were home safe. No staying at the circuit until the wee hours of the night or hitting up Denny’s to get something to eat at 2 a.m. This was a rare occasion that only ever happened if I fibbed and said I had to babysit or was staying at a friend’s house. It didn’t take long for her to figure out this little plan I had pondered up.
Other friends got to smoke cigs freely. I tried and always choked on them but wanted to be cool. I had a pack of cherry-flavored cigs in my glove box that my dad found in my car and told my mom. She then asked a friend for a cig to teach me a lesson. Those weeks ahead, my mother would get that cigarette out and walk around with it in her mouth, saying, “Don’t I look so cool!?” Needless to say, I was never a smoker.
Can you believe she put us through all this!? I mean, the nerve of a mother doing this to her sweet children! We got to miss out on so many different things that other kids got to do freely with no consequences to face. But you know what? My brother and I grew up. We both got married to two wonderful people and have great marriages that are strong. We both learned respect, good manners, and how to keep a home. We both have jobs we love and many people in our lives who love us. We are there for people when they need us, we work hard, and we love Jesus. We both have children who are being raised the same way we were raised, and it’s all because of the nerve of our mother!
If more people raised their children as our mother has, this world would be a completely different place to live in. This world needs mommas to have the nerve to stand up to their kids, show them who’s boss, whoop their butts in dressing rooms, write notes in lunches and sit at the dinner table as a family. Kids need mommas to ask about their day, what their friends are like, say I love you, and will drag their booties to church on Sundays. The world needs way more momma’s who have some NERVE.
Cinnamon Streusel French Toast Casserole
• 1 loaf of French Bread
• 9 eggs
• 2 1/2 cups of milk
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 Tbsp vanilla
• 1/2 cup flour
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup cold butter, cold cut into pieces
Cut loaf into cubes and place evenly in a greased 9×13 pan.
In a bowl, mix together eggs, milk, sugar, and vanilla. Pour evenly over the bread.
Mix together flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, and salt in a medium bowl. Cut in butter with this mixture until crumbly.
Sprinkle crumbly mixture evenly over the bread.
Bake at 350 for 45 minutes to 1 hour, depending on how soft you like it.