My father used to go ballistic when we, the kids, took tools out of his workshop and didn’t return them. I didn’t really understand his intense anger until I went to my toolbox today and found that my partner has taken my adjustable wrench, Phillips driver, and sharp pliers and “temporarily misplaced” them :mad: :mad: :mad:
Your post cracked me up!
With my mom, it was scissors. At one point, she resorted to ordering scissors with our names engraved on them. I don’t know what happened to mine, but, ironically, I ended up with the pair engraved “Mom.”
I put scissors every damn place I can think of – in the kitchen junk drawer, by the telephone, in the desk drawer. For Christmas a year or so ago, my son and husband each got a pair of scissors in his stocking.
And yet…I can never find a pair of scissors when I need one! AAAARGH!
The other thing I remember my parents frothing at the mouth about was ruining a vacuum cleaner belt due to sucking up some toy or toy part. I sure understand that one now!
Being late. That was absolutely unforgivable to my mother - if you were going to be late, you called.
I understand now.
My mom used to get really upset with my sister and myself when we would take flying leaps off the top bunk of our bunk beds. Sure, we had hard wood floors, but my sister and I put down all of our blankets AND our pillows AND our bean bag chairs. Obviously, it was the epitome of safety. In retrospect, I’m surprised that I never broke anything, like myself.
Stupid hikers who have to be rescued from Mt. McKinley. Or hunters who have to be rescued from other remote sites.
Who’s going to PAY for all that? Not the stupid climbers who managed to get themselves stranded and nearly die, or hunters who get lost and nearly freeze to death. NoooooOOOOo, it’s we taxpayers.
I fully agree with those who believe that those attempting Mt. McKinley should have to pay a deposit first in case of any rescues that may have to take place. They make a successful climb, they get it back. They end up costing the US (most of them are from outside the US) taxpayers a big ole rescue effort, they forfeit it.
The insistence on practising good manners. Mum and Dad would always ask: “Do you want to grow up into complete savages?”
Ah, memories. The kid next door caught 7 kinds of hell from his Dad for taking and losing a tool. He caught 9 kinds of hell when his Dad “found” said tool…
with the lawn mower! :eek:
Leaving the light on (or the TV or the fan) when no one’s in the room. I always thought, “What’s the big deal?”. I understand it now that I’m a bill-paying adult :smack:
As for the OP’s dad, I’ve always felt that way even back when I was kid. But with me it wasn’t tools but books. I lost some comics and novels from friends who all “misplaced” them. I think it’s great that they like to read but come on, be responsible!
Table Manners. Little things like putting the napkin in your lap, chewing with your mouth closed, holding the fork properly.
I lost my cool with a customer the other day who was about 70 smacking away so loudly on the snacks we provide, mouth open, smack, smack, smack, I finally turned to him and said “YOU HAVE TO STOP THAT!” He asked what? I said “smacking your food, eating with your mouth open, just STOP!” He got offended, but not nearly as offended as I was, or as offended as the poor players across from him watching him eat goldfish crackers open mouth and all smacky. UGGGGGHHHH!!!
Fast forward to Thanksgiving dinner. Unfortunately, due to the placement of my 14 month old daughter, I had to sit across from my 25 year old sister in law, who holds her fork like a shovel, smacks her food LOUDLY and insists on talking with a mouth full of food. Did I mention she doesn’t use a napkin?
I thank my stars every day that when I look around at the horrific table manners of people around me that my mother pounded that shit into my head.
We used to object to tidying our rooms before the cleaner came round
- now I understand why we got nagged
TAKE YOUR COTTON PICKING HANDS OFF THE THERMOSTAT!
Thank you, I feel better now. It’s different when you pay the bills, ain’t it?
Not calling when I’m going to be late is a big one. My son (now 13), is enjoying his first taste of freedom - he has a bike, a cell-phone and about a 3 mile territory. Theoretically, his phone is on whenever he’s not in school so I can call him, but he “forgets” and doesn’t call me when he’s going to be late and I want to wring his little neck. Of course, I remember clearly not getting it when my mom yelled at me for the same thing - I knew I was OK, so what was the big deal?
My example is a little different than the ones posted so far. It has nothing to do with becoming a parent myself and therefore empathizing with my mom. (I’m single without kids, btw.) It has to do with becoming an adult and understanding my mother as a person.
My mom’s big bugaboo, you see, was having everyone in the family eat dinner together. She hated it when any of us kids came to the table late or left early, or skipped the family sit-down entirely. I could never see what the fuss was all about. “What’s the big deal? The soup’s cold – so what?” I’d say when my mom blew her top because I strolled to the table late.
But here’s what I came to realize only recently. (I’m in my 40s and mom has passed away). Dinnertime was my mom’s time to shine. Dad was generally in charge of most household matters, and we three kids were pretty self-sufficient, school- and activity-wise, so dinnertime was the one time in the day for her to be in charge of the show. Being dismissive of the meal meant to her, I think, being dismissive of her. If I understood that then, I think I would have been better at being there more often and on time.
I have the same bugaboo, and I never realized where it comes from. That’s exactly it.
In fact, now that I think about it, when I was a work-away-from-home mom, I didn’t care one way or the other. Now that I’m a stay-at-home mom, I feel like crying every night when my husband won’t come to the table in a timely fashion.
Putting things away when you’re done with them. Like if you start a project, clean it up when you’re done. Or clean up the kitchen when you’re done cooking. That sort of thing.
When I first moved out, I would make a point of leaving stuff on the table or in the kitchen, for clean up at a later time. Just for rebellion’s sake. Then it’d get out of hand, or I’d be having company, and I’d have a huge mess on my hands.
I quickly got overwhelmed with this practice and now I try to make sure stuff is cleaned up when I’m done with it. Otherwise I get all depressed at what a slob I can be!
Standing with the fridge open while you choose your food or beverage. Ten times worse is actually standing there and drinking or eating in the open doorway of the fridge.
OneCentStamp, age 15: :rolleyes:
OneCentStamp, age 33: :mad:
That’s the one my dad always yelled about.
In the summer, my mom always yelled about my friends and me running in and out of the house. “Stay in or stay out!”
Now I understand. It makes a mommy crazy.
I remember when I was 7-8 or so, chasing a ball towards the street. This was an age where I really did know the difference and as I’d run towards the street, I’d always be checking. I wasn’t going to run in front of a car. Mom would scream at us.
I don’t have kids now, but when I see neighborhood kids running towards the street, I sort of momentarily freak.
Love the remarks about scissors - those are a huge issue for us right now. Bought dh two pairs of his own for Christmas, in fact.
Nail clippers were another big item at our house. My Dad tells the story of the clippers he had hidden in his medicine chest, in his half-bathroom. He kept them carefully tucked away for years - had gotten them from a former employer, one of those cheapie Christmas gifts, so there was a big logo stamped right on them.
Then one day they disappeared.
I’d married and moved away, my Mom moved out because they were separated, so that left only my college-aged sister as the culprit.
But he decided not to make a big deal out of it. He’d had fits over such details on many occasions. This time he was going to respond differently, and he just let it go. Went out and bought a new set of nail clippers instead - made a special trip, in fact.
And those new nail clippers were sharper than the old ones had been. He decided, you know what, that was a good move on my part - I didn’t have a fight w/my kid, and I’ve got a nicer set of nail clippers in return.
Couple of days later, the new set disappeared.
Had been replaced by the old, dull pair.
It didn’t take me all the way to adulthood to get the “call if you’re going to be late thing.” One of the first times I was left home alone without a babysitter my parents said they’d be home a whatever time, and that time came and passed and then another half hour passed and they still weren’t home. And hadn’t called. And I was sure they’d been in a car accident and were dead.
I was sobbing by the time they did get home and actually yelled at THEM for not calling me. They didn’t have to drum that one into my head… I learned that lesson really well all on my own.