My parents have a knack for saying just the thing to drive me nuts, and this weekend was no exception. Here’s the conversation that took place:
**Mom, Dad, may I have six dollars so I can go to a movie with everyone? **
No. If you want money, get a job.
All right, may I get a job?
No, not until you’re out of high school.
Ohh-kay. Then, may I borrow six dollars?
Not until you get a job.
Love those. Does anyone else have a similar experience with such dialogues?
-Lanna
Oh, no I haven’t met your folks yet. Have no idea what they would say if I asked to borrow some bucks.
Hey, you only have a couple years to go.
Anyway, they seem rather stuffy if they have to talk to you like that for a few bucks.
The best way to get money from your folks is to make it SEEM LIKE IT WAS THEIR IDEA to give you the money.
My mom didn’t want me to get a job, either, nor would she ever give me any money for anything. After a while, I just got a job without asking. When I told her about it, she said “It’s about time.” Go figure.
“…all the prettiest girls live in Des Moines…”
–Jack Kerouac, On the Road
Lanna, you are not alone. I wasn’t allowed to have a real paying job in high school, but I was allowed to babysit and probably made more money, under the table than my counterparts flipping burgers. It was many a time she came to me to borrow mula.
One day you can be a tyrant to your kids.
The early bird gets the worm but it’s the second mouse that gets the cheese.
Truly enlightening. I thought my mom was the only one around who absolutely forbade me to work. I loved the lady, but she was a control freak. Working was forbidden, and so were allowances. Ergo: no money.
Her favorite lines:
“If I want you to have something, I’ll buy it for you.”
“I’m not paying you for extra chores. Being part of this family is already your job.”
Even when I was in my 20’s, out and earning, she hated anything I bought on my own:
“That outfit is pretty; you look really good in it. Did I buy it for you?”
“No, I bought it, Mom.”
“I hate it. It makes you look fat.”
It was a bit rugged at the time, but my sister and I have lots of jokes to share now.
“Hey, love the dress! Did I buy you that for Christmas?”
“Nah, bought it myself. Tacky as all hell, huh?”
“Yepper, if I didn’t buy, looks like an Army surplus tent.”
or…
“Well, we’re both wearing clothes we bought ourselves. Let’s go out in public and make people barf.”
Hey, it honestly is funny. On the scale of parental abuse, it was a weird quirk, nothing more. But surreal, very surreal.
Veb
Ah, Veb, I can sympathize …
My mother didn’t care where we got them, but she had a gift for attacking precisely the outfits my sister and I felt best in. “Are you wearing that again?” “Do you really want to wear that to work?” Instant confidence-destroyer, usually deployed when we were feeling particularly good about how we looked.
She also wasn’t real happy when I got my left ear pierced for the third time (very daring in the San Fernando Valley in 1979). As it happens, that hole has been continually infected since I got it, even though I haven’t had an earring in it for at least ten years. So yes, Mom was right.
Catrandom
Howzabout the classic:
“Where are you going?”
“Out”
“Who are you going out with?”
“Friends”
“When will you be back?”
“Later”
What they don’t know probably will kill them…
How about the guys you bring home? This is what I always get:
(while we are dating) - “God, I hope you are not going to marry that asshole, all I need now is ugly grandkids.”
(after we break up) - “What happened? Oh, the poor dear, he was so cute, nice…blah blah blah, I feel so sorry for him, why are you so mean?”
Oy vey.
This is amusing. My parents are insane, too. When I was trying to choose a college and figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up, my father would go on and on about how I could be anything I wanted to, blah blah blah. However, anytime I came up with an idea of something I might want to do, he could only point out the flaws. Then, when I finally picked a school and had just started, he took me out to lunch so that I could meet his new girlfriend. We were sitting there and this woman that I had never met was politely asking me what I planned to study, and when I told her that my major was TV/Film, he interrupted me and said, “Do you believe this? My daughter has the potential to be a minor genius and she wants to waste her life.” That was a really life-affirming moment for me.
Now, school didn’t exactly ‘take’ that time, and I ended up quitting. He harped and harped at me for years to go back to school and get an education. I finally decided in the past year or so that I’m ready to go back, and he said, “Can’t you just get married and have some kids?”
I just want to state that I have NO unresolved bitterness about any of this.
Parents don’t want you to make the same dumb mistakes they made: dull lifeless jobs with no chance at career opportunities while they watch their lives rush by sitting on the couch to tired to strobe the channels. However, they don’t want your spirit to be crushed in trying for that dream job that will never make either.(They also don’t want you living on their couch for the next twenty years.)They want you productive, independant, yet coming to them for wisdom every now and then to validate their existance and to pick out a nice nursing home for you to deposit them in until the funeral.
I like how my mom always says “Jacob blah blah blah, why don’t you?” Yet when I say “But Jacob…” I get “Don’t compare yourself to your brother!” Or, he gets something at a certain age, and when I get there, I inquire about it, and get a “No, it’s not because he turned 16, it’s because…” When she hears me bitching about how I buy my own clothes, food, my car, gas, insurance, maintenance, hygiene stuff, she says “Oh, that’s not true! I buy you (insert item here)!” But when I ask for money for clothes, it’s “You’ve got a job! You should be supporting yourself!” OR, it’s “Mom, can I have some money for clothes?” “I don’t give anyone else money for clothes (!) why should I give you any?” “Well, you just took the girls shopping last week, bought them shoes, two shirts each, and a pair of pants…” “If you want to go shopping with me, we can go to Wal-Mart. I’ll give you (some pathetically small amount of money) and you can buy as many clothes as you want with that.” Never mind the clothes last week for the girls were from the mall, Gap, A&F, etc.
Tightwad.
And her memory sucks! If I remember something that she doesn’t, I’m lying. Yet, she will readily admit her memory sucks. WTF!?
–Tim
We are the children of the Eighties. We are not the first “lost generation” nor today’s lost generation; in fact, we think we know just where we stand - or are discovering it as we speak.
This was perhaps the most ludicrous thing my mother has ever said to me.
The background: I’d come home for Thanksgiving (a year ago). Mom had taken in my cat–the 13yro Siamese I’d had since I was 11–the previous June as my landlady didn’t allow cats. She’d promised to care for her. (I’ve relayed this on the “Traumatic Experiences” thread.) I came home, said hello to the folks, the in laws, the dog, and went looking for my cat. I grabbed her favorite treats, shook the can, called “Here kitty kitty!” No kitty. Checked her bed, food dish, litterbox, everything was still there…but no cat. I asked Mom about it: “We had her put down last week.” WHAT?! I was beyond infuriated. While yelling at her for being so obscenely insensitive, we had this jaw-dropping exchnage:
Me: “Why the hell didn’t you tell me before today? You’ve had a whole week–Why didn’t you say something? Why wait until Thanksgiving morning for me to find out?”
Mom: “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
WTF?!
An astounding study in cluelessness.
I used to think the world was against me. Now I know better. Some of the smaller countries are neutral.
My folks approved me getting a job anytime, as a matter of fact, I sold the Carmel Pine Cone when I was age 7 till age 10…okay, so don’t laugh but I made $1.75 on a better week.
Speaking as the parent, I think I should expect to see my son post a message here.
My 6’1" 16 y/o son was wrestling with his buddies in his bedroom, and knocked a hole in the wall. I told him he was going to have to pay for it. “What a rip off!!!” He broke my desk lamp after he borrowed it without asking, and again felt cheated because I made him pay for it. The list goes on. First day of getting his drivers permit, he hits a curb and ruins the tire, the wheel, and bends a strut. He DOES work, however. He umpires fastpitch softball, and makes HUGE bucks. I’m talking $25/game, $37.50 if he doesn’t have a partner. Games usually come in double headers. There was one month when he made over $1,000. Find me another kid that makes that! There aren’t too many of them. Anyway, to make a long story short, I heard his friends teasing him the other day that I was going to start charging him for air! Like I’m this big money sucking machine! I can’t wait until he has kids. I’ll show him “charging for air”… grumble grumble grumble.
Once a friend of mine (from Switzerland) was staying and going to university in the same town as me in the USA. When he went back (to the small village where he and I grew up) he mentioned to his parents that he thought I was guy. My parents were coming to visit right afterwards, so my mom pulled me apart for a little conversation.
I had some fun with it, before I had to break the news to her that no, I wasn’t gay.
Quand les talons claquent, l’esprit se vide.
Maréchal Lyautey
Lanna, smash something. Then you’re folks’ll GET you a job to pay for it 
Enright, if your son is doing that well with making money and bitching about repairing the things he damaged (gee, try that at a Holiday Inn), I vote for making him pay R & B. Something like $20 a week. That way we he gets a bee up his nose about how mean you are you can always say, " Go find somewhere else to live on $20 a week for room and board." This parental philosphy was used on all us kids (26 in my generation) and we all turned out pretty darn financially responsible.
( I had to pay 10 % of whatever I brought home to Mom. When I married, I received it all back for the house.)
All of this sounds so familiar. My parents used to say “Go do whatever the hell you want, you’re going to do it anyway. If something happens to you though don’t come crying to us.” Then when I would try to go out they would tell me I was grounded! So much for doing whatever the hell I wanted.
As for clothes… if my mom hated it, I would love it. It’s still that way today!
Come up with an annoying hobby. Teach yourself to play the harmonica or something. Your parents will put up cash to get you out of the house.
Heh, I doubt it’d work. They’d just scream, “That is coming out of your allowance, young lady!” Of course, since my allowance tends to be all of $3 a week, they’d most likely forget the debt before it was anywhere near paid off…
We had another interesting conversation a few days ago. Went something like this:
Me: May I drive home?
Mom: No, I’m not comfortable with you driving.
Me: Mo-om! You let Diego* borrow the car for a whole weekend, but you won’t let me drive ten miles?
Mom: I don’t want you driving until you have more experience.
Me: Um, but I have my permit, took driver’s education and driver’s training. I can’t get anymore experience unless someone lets me drive…
Mom: Don’t try to argue with me, Alanna Rose! You can’t drive until you’ve had more experience behind the wheel!
Me: Ugh! Mother, you make no sense! I can’t get more experience behind the wheel unless you let me drive
Mom: Don’t take that “you’re-so-stupid” tone with me. This conversation is over. When you’ve had more experience, we’ll talk.
My mom’s just nuts.