When my 11-year old son Alex told me I am strict and mean, I cried. Yes, I cried in the grocery store parking lot. Being that my husband, John, was completely taken aback by my tears, he did his best with damage control.

After zinging me, Alex promptly left to wait inside the store. Obviously he did not want to be embarrassed in addition to standing with his cruel mother while she wiped away her tears of sensitivity. Poor child -- a strict and mean mother who also embarrasses him in public.

Needless to say, I got over that zing and realized there are probably going to be many more during these "formative" years. I felt like I was indoctrinated into a club or special society and that event was my initiation. It went swimmingly.

Alex has always been very strong-willed and as he continues to mature, I fully expect he will continue to exert his desire to get his way. He may have his zingers, but I have authority to punish at will. Give me a Wicked Witch of the West hat and a flying monkey; I'm ready to do battle. Having a child in middle school, I have realized there will be disagreements and disappointments and teenage temper tantrums. I have lowered my expectations so when the sweet child who lives inside the tormented pre-teen shows himself, I am overjoyed in that moment. Other than that, I take it as it comes.

In order to better understand the creature called Alex, I wanted to compare my strict and mean behavior with other parents who have young teenage children. I wanted to learn what was important to other parents and what they enforced or didn't enforce.

Every parent I spoke with said they personally consider themselves strict; however the moms all said they think they are stricter than their husbands. Granted, this was not a statistical study -- there were no laboratory rats and I did not send out an e-mail to the masses. Should you decide to conduct your own study, your results may vary.

When I was in high school, I had a curfew. I had friends who had no curfew, so I was the first one to get dropped off when we would go out together. After I graduated from college, I lived at home for a year. That was not a fun year. My mother told me that it was her house, her rules and I had that curfew again. Looking back, having that curfew was probably a good idea. No good comes from staying out until all hours anyway. I mean, let's be honest here.

I did realize, however, that part of the problem in the Potocko household is that I am the primary enforcer and John is Mr. Nice Guy. John had directed some of his concerns and issues about Alex toward me. Instead of introducing father to son and telling John and Alex to work it out, I would speak with Alex. Alex would get frustrated and angry with me while John remained mostly unscathed.

Recently, Alex asked for an allowance, so John created a very organized chore list for Alex and I started paying him weekly. Alex needed daily reminders to complete his chores because chores lose their excitement after we realize they are work. Welcome to the real world, son.

In addition to being Potocko Interpreter, I had also become Chief Chore Enforcer and Head Nag. Two more jobs I did not want. The other evening I reached my boiling point.

I resigned these posts, effective immediately. I am no longer interpreting between father and son. They can manage using their male-speak. When I hear grunting sounds, I move away from the sound and look busy. I also make no eye contact whatsoever.

John and I co-chair Chore Enforcer and John is now wearing the crown of Head Nag. I couldn't interpret, nag, enforce and be the Wicked Witch of the West. There are simply not enough hours in the day, so I had to rally the troop. I like being the Wicked Witch and I am really enjoying that flying monkey. It's a perk that comes with being strict and mean.

You can e-mail Michelle Potocko at theconsciousmother@gmail.com.

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