I have sworn that I will not give my mom decorating advice nor help her go shopping for stuff for her house any more. This was after she called me almost crying, begging me to help her pick out tile and paint for her kitchen. I explained I needed to get home to get ready for a date but she pled and whined and guilted me in to coming. I arrived only to have her shoot down every idea I gave her because she trusted the home store sales person more.
That was the final straw after a lifetime of her asking my opinion and then never truly taking it.
Even now, she’s constantly asking me to ‘just run to the store with her’ and I refuse. It makes her madder than hell, but my sanity is in much better shape.
Oh, and as some of you may know, she still wants me to wear a dickey.
Man, I’m starting to believe in this American exceptionalism business more and more these days, because people from other countries are nuts. My foreign (read: crazy) mother had some thing about opening windows. “It’ll get stuffy in here!” Jesus Christ, if I feel it is “stuffy” I will open the window. I don’t need you running into my room, making sure that my windows are open, or best yet, opening them for me even though I’d prefer them shut.
She also is on a mission about keeping beds made. My theory was when I was six (and still is decades later, thankyouverymuch!) that it’s just going to get messed up again anyway, so why bother? Absolutely unacceptable. You have to make up your bed as soon as you’re out of it, no exceptions. The day I left for college was the last day in my entire life that I’ve made a bed. I’ll likely die before I make my bed ever again.
Edit: One time when she came to visit me in college, she harped on me for not having my bed made. I gave her the same excuse I’d been giving her for years, “Just gonna mess it up again in a few hours.” She just had to accept it, though noisily.
Lakai is in Brooklyn… I don’t know where you are. But if you felt that your house were at risk of getting stuffy, wouldn’t you just turn the heat down? I don’t have kids, so maybe I’m just preparing for a lifetime of nagging my future kids about letting the heat out, but this nonsense about leaving the window open in Brooklyn in February is driving me crazy just thinking about it.
I’ve been immensely successful at keeping anyone in my life from giving me unsolicited advice, much less engaging in ongoing battles with me over it. One of the few exceptions is that my mom and sister hate that I drink diet pepsi or any artificial sweetener.
This was in Los Angeles, where it was hot all the time, so I guess this is a bit different from letting cold, winter air in for fear of stuffiness, but it was still annoying. I was perfectly capable of deciding whether or not I felt it was hot and/or stuffy in my bedroom, and would open/close windows accordingly. Or would attempt to, anyway. It was at times hard to do with her sweeping in and opening my windows all of the time.
My mother recently started asking when I’m going to give her grand children. Ignoring the fact that when I have grand children, she’ll probably not be allowed around them unless I buy her a very snug straight jacket… not until I’m at least of drinking age, I should assume.
My grandfather is constantly berating me to go hook up with more girls when I’m down there visiting them… don’t get me wrong, I like hooking up with women, but I’m down here to visit them, my grandparents. And then, when I do finally cave and go out on a date with a local girl, I come home early (around 9PM) he harasses me and says “that’s awful early to come home from a date, innit boy?” Well, I came home early to avoid keeping you and mawmaw up all night, thank you.
My grandparents constantly ask if I have enough money, and mean to offer me some if I don’t… despite the fact (and I’m not being a jerk, I never say this) I can make more in a week than they made – together – in a month working in the factories while they raised three children.
My mother constantly asks if I have enough money, meaning to ask for some from me if I say yes.
Same here. I take 1.5 seconds to pull the covers up to cover the bed, but that’s it.
Another one that always got me was folding laundry. WTF for? It’s going into a drawer that will be shut tight, where no one will ever see it. Except, of course, my mother. I was quite happy to be done with that silliness when I moved out. I shudder to think what might happen if she knew this, though…
No drinking and driving. Obviously a noble cause but I’m in my mid-twenties and it just drives me up the wall whenever I mention I’m going out to a bar or to a friend’s party and the first thing my mother responds with 100% of the time is “DON’T DRIVE!!!” And then she repeats this mantra, over, and over, and over, and over. Nevermind the fact that I’ve never been in trouble with the law and generally never make stupid decisions elsewhere in my life.
All these controlling mothers groaning about their daughters’ hair are making feel tight around the collar… That’s my mother’s #1 fight with me, too. She bitches to high heaven whenever I get it cut, and she also complains when I dye it…even though I dye it my natural color just to cover my grey hairs. She insists I do not have grey hair – I point out the two large patches at my temples and the others sprinkled through out and she pretends not to see them. I don’t know what her problem is.
In fact, I was 18 before I ever had my hair cut professionally because she always insisted on cutting it herself, even though she couldn’t do what I wanted. That didn’t matter. A blunt shoulder-length bob is what she wanted me to have, and a blunt shoulder-length bob is what I got.
The heat at my house automatically turns off at night and goes back on at 9am. Even when it’s too cold, the window still has to be open a little bit. If the window opened as little as possible still makes me cold, then I’m supposed to get more blankets.
If I close the door and the window then it’s even worse. My mother moved into this country 21 years ago. Take that for what it’s worth.
MeanOldLady, my parents won the bed making battle with me. I make my bed everyday now even when they aren’t around. This is because my dad took on the issue and he is even more persistent than mom. I couldn’t take the both of them lecturing me about bed making every fucking day, so now that fear of not making a bed has been ingrained in my DNA.
My mother is also obsessed with bedmaking (even if she’s in a hotel). When I was younger she once told asked my, in all seriousness, “What if somebody breaks in or the house catchs on fire?” “Um, the beds will burn, and who cares if a burgler think’s we’re messy.”. She’s also an early riser, so if you get up for an early morning bathroom trip expect to come back to a freshly made bed (& be prepared for a passive aggresive lecture if you dare climb back into bed).
She also think’s I’m being reckless & irresponsible because I won’t put a phone in my bedroom (I actually have, but the ringer’s turned off). Or that if my phone rings I won’t drop whatever I’m doing (including hopping out of the shower or rushing back inside if I’m outside) to answer it at once. “What if an emergency and someone needs to get ahold of you!?” Yet she will not leave messages on my answering maching (cellphone voicemail is different for some reason). Unsurprisingly she think’s cellphones are the greatest invention ever and can’t imagine why anyone would ever turn them off for any reason. “So you’re in a theate, do you have to turn your phone of? You know you can put it on vibrate. What if it’s an emergency and some needs to get ahold of you?” :rolleyes:
It’s not just me she does this to (safe to say Dad’s really come to regret the day he bough her her first phone).
My parents were always nagging me to do “something” with my hair; something in their minds meaning making it less curly. My mom and I went through the bed making argument, too.
Now that my mom has passed on, my grandmother has picked up where she left off. Both worry/worried about whether or not I’m warm enough. As a result, my family always wanted the windows closed. My grandma keeps buying me slippers, and warning me to wear them, or risk arthritis later in life. I’ve never asked her for them, or gave her any reason to believe something happened to the ones I already had, but if she drops by and my feet are bare, there’s a good chance she’ll be bringing more slippers soon.
Can we officially rename this thread “Parents are cute”? This is the kind of thing that right now makes us want to kick puppies, that we’ll miss in ways that will drive us clear over the edge of lunacy when they’re not around anymore.
Sorry, did I just kill the feelgoodness?
Love you Mom and Dad, but can you please leave my windows closed, and can you please stop fussing over whether or not I’m wearing a sweater at night? I promise to take the necessary precautions in order to stave off death. I promise.
I’m 35 f’n years old, I’ve had 3 puppies since I’ve left my parents state and moved across the country 9 fricken’ years ago. One died of Parvo, another kidney disease.
A new little puppy landed on the doorstep here the other day, and all my mom could say was “are you sure you’re ready for the responsibility?”. Bjezus Christ and WTF??? I raised 2 pups at once and now you want to know if “I’m ready for the responsibility??” I’m getting close to F’N 40, I think I can handle a fricken dog!!!(again).
And then my dad, about the money that a dog costs, OK, so the one with parvo cost me a mint and the one with the bad kidney’s cost me damn near a fortune, but I don’t regret it.
Then blow some bucks to go away to Vegas or something and they say “have fun”, tell them I just spent a few K(or even a few hundred) on some new equipment for the shop(which MAKES me money), and the lecture starts.
Can’t wait to tell the old man that I’m moving in with the girlfriend, that should be good for about 4 hours of lecture like I’m 13 or something. Remember you old bastard, when you where my age, I was in Junior high, where you ready for the responsibility???
My folks are cool, just neurotic, the price you pay for being an only child.
I feel your pain. I love my dog but his shots are 300 bucks a year. We have Lyme Disease shots in our area and they are not cheap. Still my dog is worth it. Just try not telling them anything that you know will get them going!
My Mom gets on me because she says I don’t make sure my adult son eats enough. My son lives in the next town in his own home and is 26. When she visits him she harps on me about it. He grew his hair out and has a beard and somehow I am supposed to get him to cut his hair and shave? I said to him, Grammy wants you to shave and get a hair cut and he says, it will ruin my plan. I asked him what is your plan? He says, I want to stay single as long as possible. Oyy!
“Mom, it’s forty degrees out. I have a winter coat. I do not need gloves and a scarf and a hat and boots.” "Mom, I’m 15 years old, I can tell whether or not I’m dressed warmly enough. “Mom, I’m fine. This is a very warm jacket.” “Mom, I love you, and it’s very sweet, but I’m also very much aware that it’s very cold here where I am living, and yes I will wear my down jacket if I go out, I promise. Yes, and a hat and gloves. Yes, and my boots. Yes, fine, my fleece hat.” I don’t get it - she knows I can dress myself, but I guess she thinks I’ve never gotten the knack of outer layers? She’s called me specifically to remind me to wear a warm coat…before getting on a plane to fly to Cleveland in December (from balmy Santa Fe, where it was a lovely 20 degrees…)
No longer an issue, but for the first eighteen years of my house, growing up in an old, drafty house: “Dad, I’m cold, can we please turn the heat up slightly?” “I’m wearing a sweater. And a sweatshirt over that.” He’d give in when I briefly excused myself from the dinner table to get a coat or gloves or something ridiculous from the closet, but then turn the thermostat back down. Repeat ad nauseam.
Writing this out, I think I’m seeing some sort of karmic balance or something…
