Revision
My parents once tried to ban me from seeing my girlfriend during my A Levels because she was distracting me from my revising, or as they infuriatingly called it, "swotting".

The argument went like this:

Dad : "She's stopping your swotting."
Me : "I've done my bloody revision!"
Dad : "You've not done enough!"
Me : "I've done loads, about 6 hours today!"
Dad : "That's nothing. You should be doing 12 hours a day!"

(Pause)

Me : "So let's say that I'm supposed to do 12 hours of revision a day. A decent amount of sleep for someone my age would be ten hours - so that would leave 2 hours a day for eating, defecation and any breaks."
Dad : "Ok, maybe not 12 hours..."

They were SO INCREDIBLY ANAL about me and my brother doing "swotting". Now, I'm at uni, and I just tell them I've done all my work if they ask.
(Hammer Time, Tue 13 Mar 2007, 8:34, Reply)

I wasn't able to watch ITV

because we don't have that channel in Australia.

Wouldn't take me to see the Pope either.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 13 Mar 2007, 8:24, Reply)

I went to the grocer's for some fruit

a couple of days later he rang and asked for it back! When I explained that, duh, I'd eaten it, he told me I'd have to pay a fine!

And that's the story of my strict pear rent.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 13 Mar 2007, 8:22, Reply)

My parents rules for kids...
No ITV because of the adverts.
No comedy TV shows.
Educational TV shows only with a parent present.
Church at least 4 times a week - and twice on Sundays.
No displays of affection in public (not that there were ever any in private.)
"No fucking swearing" (an exact quote of my dad.)
No playing with or talking to any kids who weren't catholics.
No fizzy drinks.
No opening Xmas presents before 5pm Xmas day.
No parties.
No talking to anyone about "private family stuff" or us kids would go to jail.
No going to the toilet after everyone was asleep (I was a bed-wetter until about about 10 years old - go figure.)

The list goes on...

Needless to say, my own rules for parenting are somewhat different.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Tue 13 Mar 2007, 5:16, Reply)

Big road
My parents were always fine with me and my brother. We were allowed to watch ITV *shock* and they introduced us to Monty Python at early ages.

We were allowed whatever sweets we wanted in moderation and were encouraged to go play out so that we didn't end up fat lumps.

However, we weren't allowed to cross.. *dun dun dun* the big road. At least not without a tight hold of mammy's hand.

The big road's actually not that big, and not especially unsafe. We don't get a ridiculous amount of cars on it. However, the parents were deadly serious. This meant that if my brother or I wanted to get to the other side, where all our friends and our cousins lived, we had to go under the subway where all the big boys hung out and generally hurled abuse at anybody smaller than them.

Frightening.

One day I remember being taunted by a couple of lads from the other side, who were running around on the road, so I decided to throw caution to the wind, and stood on the road. Within about 5 minutes my auntie was up out of my house and up the hill dragging me home shouting at me for standing on the road. In all the time that the boys had been teasing me and my auntie had taken to walk up to the road, not a single car went by. Yet I was still bollocked for it.

It's probably why I'm a hermit now.
( Kittenpants, Tue 13 Mar 2007, 4:38, Reply)

Bad as each other,,,,
I once went through a stage of instead of going to the toilet, i use to roll over in bed and piss on the floor. I shared a bedroom with my brother and this really pissed (no pun) him off. So one time, afted i did it, he ran down stairs and told her. She came flying into the bedroom and grabbed me by the neck and forced me to lick it off the floor. I took one lick and she let me go. I never did that again.

Yeah i know what i did was wrong but what she did was wrong and at the end of the day two wrongs dont make a right.

I also held a flame to one of her earings and burnt it black so she got a hammer and took it to my tape collection. Again, i didnt do that ever again.

She is fond of her afternoon naps so one day when was being too noisy for her liking, she threw us out and locked the door. So i got a few stones and threw them at the kitchen window. I smashed one of the upper side ones but she didnt notice until my sister pointed it out to her.

One meal time, when I was six, I said to her ' Pass the fuck and knife' after learning it at school, thinking it was hilarious. She picked up on it straight away and threw me to the floor, sat on my chest and forced me to swallow fairy liquid. It was vile. Also when I was six, she forced me face into the sunday meal she cooked because I refused to eat it.

bless her, i was a twat. She would have tried to be strict, like grounded me or something, but i never went out cos i didnt have friends.

Am I meantally ill or angry at her? ask me in five years time when im doing time for murdering her.
(Finniganbeginagen, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 23:55, Reply)

Raising nerds
My mum, bless her, was tasked with the job of raising three boys by herself. All three boys have turned out to be nerds (well, the youngest has reformed into a musician/surfer/root rat, but we know his past...), so in a vain attempt to ensure homework got done/fights kept to a minimum/social life encouraged/argument du jour, all computer games were banned at all times during the week.

I've just spent the entire long weekend playing Command & Conquer. Sorry mum, still a nerd.
(Chewy Walrus says: It's slobberin' time!, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 23:40, Reply)

As a child...(I say child but it carried on till I was about 18)
I was banned from watching TV on school nights
Staying on the phone past 11
Go to the cinema during term time
Go anywhere during term time
Spend my money on junk food
Use my play station on school nights
Go to bed without praying (...don't do that much now I'm afraid)
Dying my hair
Drinking coke or any fizzy drinks(unless we were somewhere special)
Got banned from the internet for about 3 months (eeep!) for using MSN too much because apparently, all my friends were bad influences and were teaching me how to break the computer...(like i needed teaching)
Going to the corner shop after school
Going to my best mate's house who lived across the street after school...


Yes it sucked. Am living about 2 hours train journey from home now at uni..woo!
(MeZ, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 23:26, Reply)

Memories..
One night, when I was back from my travels, I was staying with my mum for a while before I buggered off on my wanders again. This particular night I'd been on the piss in Newcastle and ended up getting home at about 3am a wee bit worse for wear. I fished around in my pockets and then drunkenly tried to get my key in the door. Arse. I was so pissed I couldn't find the lock in the dark. So I poked and poked at the lock then magically the door opened!

"Legless!! You bloody useless drunken oaf. You're just like your bloody dad. You've woken up half the street!!"

"What! What! What are you on about? I'm only trying to open the bloody door. I'm being quiet as a mouse.." I explained.

"You useless idiot. You've been trying to stick your key in the doorbell for the last half hour...."

Oops....

I was in the doghouse big style for that one. For a whole week. Eventually she forgave me and the atmosphere thawed a bit and Friday night rolled around again. And again I went out in town and got well pissed and rolled home around 3am. I was super quiet as I arrived home and then I fished around in my pockets for my keys. Arsebiscuits! I couldn't find them.

Now this was a pickle. I didn't dare ring the doorbell and wake the family again, not after last week, so what was I to do? Brainwave!

I headed round to the back of the house, into the garden shed and dug out an old hand-powered drill. One of those ancient ones with a handle on the side. Fitting a drill bit to it, I staggered over to the downstairs toilets window and laboriously drilled a series of holes through the window frame until I eventually had made enough so I could wiggle a bit of wire about and flick up the window catch. Yay! I was in.

I opened the window and heaved my drunken bulk into the window and, being slightly enthusiastic , crashed head-first into the toilet bowl and broke the bloody thing. Smashed to pieces and with water all over the sodding place. Of course, this racket didn't go un-noticed and in a few seconds my mother arrived with her trusty broom and proceeded to beat me about the face and head while screeching like a banshee....


I'm my own worst enemy at times....


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 23:25, Reply)

just now...
I received my A-level module results. A, A and B and my mum has just gone apeshit because I haven't MOT'd my car despite the fact i still have a fortnight to go.

God!
(The_Reaper, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 21:18, Reply)

hair
when i was small and furry i had arse length hair, i loved it, and when i was naughty, my mum would threaten to cut it off while i was asleep
then i went to *big school* and realised i looked a twat, my mum wouldnt let me cut it off until i'd pestered her for 2 years
(skankgirl, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 21:08, Reply)

Get me my house keys dammit!
Indeed,

I too had excessively restrictive parents.

One particular incidence was when i was between 11-13 years old, and everybody and their dog (at the time that was my age) had house keys, so that they can get into the house at will.

My folks were continuously against this, calling these kids "Latch Key" kids, and "We remember them when I was young, and these kids were having to wear this key and survive on their own as their parents were pissing their money up down the pub!" blah blah blah.

So, as a consequence, if they went out I had to go with them or stay in the house until their return. Often kicking me out in the summer telling me to hang out with friends. And I had to float around until they returned. Great. NOT!

In my infinite wisdom one day, I decided to borrow a neighbors ladder. Our house was one ridiculously easy to get into, with a nasty side open 1970s bathroom window that had no lock. Fuck knows how the house didn't get robbed (but, mind you, this was the recession ravaged late 1980s/early 1990s so there was fuck all to pinch anyway).

Anyhow, I used to utilise, this ladder, and proudly leave it behind on the driveway (as they locked the doors and therefore I could not get out of the house, to put the ladder away).

This used to really piss them off, and I was like "Well, UNTIL you give me a house key I WILL continue doing this, and make you look like a complete tit in front of the neighbors".

Eventually they caved in, and gave me a house key. And I soon had keys cut for everything (including the car) behind their back. They also cited that they wouldn't get a key cut locally as "They would know where we live, and rob the house. I am not taking any chances!". Like, for fucks sake! there are A LOT of houses in my town and it's like finding a needle in a haystack to find the correct key for our house, with insurmountable odds.

Another one was their insistence on me going to school for the last few weeks of school end in Year 11. Despite the fact there there were NO Year 11 pupils attending any lessons anymore as EVERYTHING had finished and it was all exams and revising.

So, I was forced to hide at my sisters during late spring/summer, and return back home as normal and make out that I had been in school all the time (when in fact I was over their playing on their Commodore 64, and copying some games for them, or coming up with the latest ZZAP 64 mag, with cheats and maps for Cybernoid 2, Draconus, or whatever was flavour of the month).

Another example of strictness was that I was barely allowed anywhere, so as a consequence my sense of geography is now shite.

For example, there was a school swimming trip, and I missed the coach. I didn't have the initiative to get a bus back home, as this was a completely alien concept because of my idiotically sheltered upbringing. So, I had to go the cop shop as I didn't know how to get home. I was a right fucking laughing stock in school, and I was 13 at the time.

Yeah, like, fucking nice one parents. Twunts!
(Panteneman Isn't entirely sure why he bothered on, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 20:58, Reply)

i once
got trainspotting out of the library as i wanted to read it.
a few days later my mum spots it in my bedroom (i had no need to hide it) and goes ballistic saying she doesn't want me reading it as i'll get horrific images in my head. needless to say i don't read it in front of her and no more is said...
...until that weekend when i'm off to a uni open day and she's giving me a lift to the station, she asks me if i've got a book to read on the train and i mumble yes, she then thinks about it and says something like "it's not trainspotting is it" and then goes into a rant about it being a 'cult' book and "what will people think if they see you reading it" and forces me to take it out of my bag and give it to her, so it sat in her glove compartment for about two weeks, i eventually got it back a week after it was due back at the library.

i was also banned from the internet about three times between the ages of 12 and 18, each time resulting in my mum putting IE's "content advisor" on to prevent me accessing ANY websites, i'd worked out the password by the end of the second time though so just pretended i was miffed, and if i ever needed anything desperately played up to her and asked her to put the password in as each new page loaded
(cs192 is sucking on a Koala at, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 20:29, Reply)

Grand Theft Auto.
It wasn't allowed! Stealing cars and shit wasn't for me...I wasn't even allowed it when I was 15. Quake 3 and that were fine, though.

My dad once shouted at me and denied me a birthday present because I didn't say hello to him as I was particularly engrossed in a game of Pokemon Pinball. I was in the zone, though :( Sux.
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 20:26, Reply)

K2K6
First off all, my parents were cool, but my girlfriend's parents banned us from ever seeing each other ever again when we were 14. Twunts, it's only shagging.

Anyway story over.About K2K6's comments below. In the 70's an average of 4 kids a year were kidnapped in England and now in the 00's an average of 4 kids a year are kidnapped in England.

Nothing has changed. Parents these days could let their kids out all day on their bike just like when we were nippers, but they don't because the tabloid press are wankers and the British public lap it up.

Rant over.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 18:36, Reply)

Wendy
For years when I was younger, whenever I was being difficult, my parents would tell me that if I didn't shape up and start behaving, they'd call Mr. Andrews at the homes (?!) and tell him to bring Wendy.

Apparently Wendy was a little girl who lived at the homes (which i think was like an orphanage), and Mr. Andrews was always on call to swap me with her. So whenever I didn't want to eat my food, they'd say, we can call Wendy to come and eat it etc. You get the picture.

My parents were MEAN.
(fishyfishyfishyoooh Tonight I will be Miss Saigon, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 18:33, Reply)

ARGH
When I stay with my boyfriend at my parents house, we have to sleep in separate bedrooms.

This is despite the fact that we're in our 30s and have been together for 11 years, and my parents are gagging for grandchildren.
( Tonibuns, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 18:25, Reply)

My parents weren't really strict
They were generally regarded by other people as 'the cool ones', mostly (I suspect) because my mum's fairly laid back and most of my friends were taller than her by the time they were 10.
I had a major argument with mum 2 terms into sixth form along the lines of
'You're not doing any work at that bloody school, you might as well not be there'
'Fine, I'll leave then.'
'Fine, do that'
And I did.

Compare this to the friend of mine who got 7 A*s at GCSE, but when told her parents that she also got two As, was asked 'What went wrong?'
(Mrs Trellis GIN, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 18:17, Reply)

Not me but a friend. and a girl that my brother knows/hates
I probably should have posted this on the last QOTW, but its a bit late for that so here goes.
My friends Mum won't let anybody in her family drink any water from the tap. They have a 'water fridge'. Thats right. A fridge full of bottled water.

Also, my brother knows a girl whose parents go through her iPod everyday and see what songs she has on there. They delete any 'bad songs' they find on it. Bad songs such as the london underground song - you know the one, theyre all lazy, useless, fucking cunts etc.

Strict? Maybe not. Arseholes? Most definitely.
(littlenipple hate's bad grammar, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 17:48, Reply)

K2k6, you in turn reminded me
of once when my son was being particularly obnoxious and demanding something (I think it was probably to watch TV after his bedtime) and yelled a bunch of things at me that should have resulted in getting his face slapped. I informed him that he owned nothing, that I had bought everything in his bedroom, including his clothes, so he should be grateful that I even let him stay there. He replied with something snotty, so I stripped off his pants and shirt and threw him out the front door in his underwear. When he found the door locked behind him, he had a very sudden and major attitude change.

Periodically I still have to remind him of his place- and now he's twelve years older. You'd think that lesson would have stuck...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 12 Mar 2007, 17:28, Reply)

My Evil big brother.
Used to have to babysit me and my elder sister when our parents went out on the lash. We could see from our bedroom the attic cover and my brother would open it slightley and send us to bed. He then would tell us if we got out of bed the nun without a face would come out of the attic and get us. I have never forgiven him for it, but then neither has my sister as i was to scared to move and she would often wake up in a huge wet patch of my pee!

I was only ickle at the time
( Mrswoodbine finally has her own account., Mon 12 Mar 2007, 17:09, Reply)

my parents...
my mum has this completely weird thing that i cant listen to music out loud in the house. fine if its my mp3 but apparently my dad isnt allowed to hear my music. stupid cos he has the same music sense as me!
(skary_faerie, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 16:57, Reply)

The Hairy Hand
One of my childhood favorites was the "hairy hand" that my teenage aunt used to threaten was coming to get me if I made a nuscance of myself while she was babysitting.The disembodied hand has thus far failed to locate me.Damn. I've just jinxed myself.It probably will now.Damn hippy family.
(crapmonkey, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 16:51, Reply)

Nuns
Mother always threatened me with the behave or you're being sent to the Nuns.They sent me anyway.
(crapmonkey, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 16:46, Reply)

And another
When my parents went out for the evening, my auntie would be left to babysit me and my sister. My dad always said that the "Magic Eye" would be watching, and he'd know what we'd been up to. I remember looking all round the house for the magic eye, even suspecting he'd switched on the cassette recorder.

I must have been incredibly gullible not to realise my auntie was actually a sentient being capable of relaying information about child-badness to my parents.

All brains and no common sense, as my mum always describes me.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 16:20, Reply)

And I just remembered another one
I used to be threatened with being sent away in the lorry which took away the refuse from the local knackery. That caused me untold psychological stress for years. I couldn't even look at these lorries without being gripped by terror.

No wonder I was a good kid!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 15:42, Reply)

R.M.O, you just reminded me...
...of when I was a lad of but 6 or so, I was too lazy one day to get dressed for school. My mum threatened to send me to school without clothes on if I didn't get dressed. No problem, I thought. Just hang on a bit longer and she'll get round to sticking a pair of trousers and a shirt on me and send me off.

My bluff was called.

10 minutes later, I was standing on the front doorstep wearing nothing but a vest and pants.

5 minutes of distress later I was let in and got dressed very quickly. It never happened again.

Incidentally, after I was out of Primary 1, I used to walk to school. A mile. On my own. It was in a small rural town, admittedly, but even so. That's so different to the situation nowadays, when mummy takes the little darlings to the gate in her Land Rover. OK, there were still "nasty men who ask you to get in their cars" in the late '70s, but we just didn't get in their cars. Missed out on seeing a few puppies and eating a few sweets, but worth it ultimately.

Kids these days, pah! No stamina.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 15:39, Reply)

Rachaelswipe..
My flat-mates parents actually left him for an afternoon at the local "bad boys school" to teach him a lesson. He can still remember it like it was yesterday. 5 years old, crying, suitcase in had. He's 30 this year..
(earplugsdont _work and I'm fed up listening., Mon 12 Mar 2007, 15:29, Reply)

Frankspencer's post reminds me
Of my first proper g/f, a flaxen haired German lass from a devout catholic family.

G/f, her mum and her grandmother used to speak German to one another, switching to English for her younger brother and Grandfather, so whenever the girls wanted a private chat about the menfolk at the table, languages would be switched mid conversation. When Jane's mum wanted to get a point across to the pair of us, she'd switch to English, which made for some bizarre mealtime discussions. All thoughts of strict mothers aside, g/f's mum was deligthful, often taking me out for coffee when Jane wasn't about and making me feel very welcome in her home.

It must have been bloody obvious we were boinking each other (esp when Jane quoted a certain vital statistic to her mum one evening), but no lectures or anything followed.

However, my nuts didn't half shrink when I was invited to attend mass every Sunday with g/f and the catholic family. The feeling of impending doom knowing I'd deflowered one of their flock is no doubt something St Peter will bring up during my pearly gates interview... I literally am going to hell.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 12 Mar 2007, 15:12, Reply)

PJM's post reminds me ...
Of a situation in which I was staying at the house of a girlfriend whose family was very Christian. I was out with the girl in question when I realised I had left a used johnny on the floor beside the bed. When we got back, the johnny was gone. Oddly enough, nothing was said. I did notice a few days later that her mother began using words outside her usual vocabulary - words which I had made up as code in my diary to describe what I was doing to her daughter in her home. Still no punishment, though. I reckon the old dear liked it.
(frankspencer, Mon 12 Mar 2007, 15:00, Reply)