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Rules are good for a family. They shape how its members treat each other and interact with the world, ensuring that their values align with their actions.
However, what works for one person might seem cuckoo to the next—even if they share the same last name!
We wanted to learn more about these differences and, in doing so, discovered a few Quora threads where people have been sharing things about their households that they thought were normal while growing up but later realized were pretty weird in adulthood. Continue scrolling if you'd like to see them, too!
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#1
It wasn’t a rule but it was an obvious expectation for me not to bother my parents whether that was asking a question or most days even waving to them as a greeting or when leaving the house. It was obvious because the few times I did ask or tell them something they’d either ask why I was talking with them or ignore it (my father usually ignored while ma would tell me to just do it next time).
That meant everything from making my own dinner every night while getting myself to bed and off to school each day, and just going to papas every summer vacation was to be done without even mentioning it. I did just that and they never bothered to send a card or even call papas to make sure I got/was there though I’d be there over 60 consecutive days in the summer plus many vacations throughout the year.
It wasn’t weird to me since it was all I knew but once I became a parent I realized that I didn’t like it nor find it appropriate for any parent or child to do.
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#2
I was not allowed to hang out with black friends outside of school. According to my mother, it was perfectly fine to be friendly towards them at school, but it was not appropriate to spend time with them in public or in their home or mine.
As a young child, I accepted this as the way of the world. As I grew a little older I began to question this rule, and my mom justified it by saying it wasn't black *kids* she was afraid of, but their parents. She didn't want me in a home where I was under the supervision of parents that she did not trust or approve of (nevermind that she had never met them).
I offered for her to meet the parents of my (black) best friend in the third grade, Julia, but she was not interested. Now, I went to a very mixed high school, with a population that was about 60% black. Most of my friends were black as a result, and at the risk of being called racist I basically didn't hang out with *anyone* outside of school, black or white. My first boyfriend was white and my mom approved, of course—he was an honor student like me and lived in a decent neighborhood. But when we had our first kiss, I felt nothing—i may as well have been homosexual. I broke up with him shortly after and my mother was baffled. "But you both seemed so happy!"
As I started to go through puberty and become an adult, I realized that most of my sexual feelings were towards black men and I didn't know how to explain this to my mother. She was disgusted and I tried my best to be open with her but it was impossible. Only now was I beginning to realize the depth of my mothers racism, when she told me she would never attend a biracial wedding and would not be a grandmother to mixed children.
I ended up leaving home (in suburban Michigan) to pursue a new life in New York and I'm now beginning to find my path and my goals in life—i still try to convince my mother that the color of someone's skin doesn't determine whether they are a good person. I've been with plenty of people of many colors, good and bad. But I hope that now, raising my two younger sisters, she has done away with her "weird rule."
#3
We had a couch in the living room. But the living room was carpeted so I was not allowed to walk on the carpet. And thus I was not allowed to sit on the couch. I was repeatedly told that the couch was made from Z+3 fabric and that Z was “the best fabric money could buy” but that our poor family where every member was unemployed, living on social security from the time I was five, had somehow purchased one of these.
I was literally not allowed to sit on the couch for my first eighteen years. So imagine my shock and horror one day, when one of my friends comes over and sits on the couch. I must have been quivering in horror. He asked me what was wrong and assumed that I was joking when I told him. The rule was absurd but I had been raised and indoctrinated on its reasonableness and validity. I was also used to being beaten by my mom for much smaller infractions. I had never seen her beat a friend of mine but I was ready.
More shockingly she came home, greeted us, and said nothing about the fact that he was sitting on the couch. I was shocked. My friend had stood up to my mom and won. The gears began turning.
Twenty five years later my dad died and I went back to attend his funeral. The (presumably same) couch was still in my mom’s living room, though it was pulled away from the wall because the dog had developed a habit of walking behind the furniture and getting stuck. The result was that my mom’s house smelled severely of mold and urine and had all of the furniture pulled away from the walls like she was packing up to move out. But she wasn’t. This was simply logical to her.
I’ve long wondered if my mom is neurodiverse as my father was. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter but when I stumble upon memories like these and decisions upheld across decades, I feel so justified in how much I acted out during childhood.
#4
I had to be in by midnight, but if my friends dropped me off one minute after midnight, my stepfather wouldn’t let me in. So I’d have to get back in their car, and get dropped off at the ice-skating rink, the movie theatre, or find one of my friends to go home with. This was a stepfather who was trying to drive me out; I guess I just didn’t know that yet. I moved out soon enough, at sixteen, rented a house soon after. Got a job. Worked for me. I had a lonely Christmas. I missed my three little sisters, and my little brother, and my mother, but no one cared about me. They were my stepfather’s kids. My mother was my stepfather’s wife. After I was able to gain perspective, I understood how one-sided my relationships had been, and everything turned out great for me. If someone doesn’t love you back, you don’t need to be all shocked to find out, and crestfallen. They never did, and you were happy before, when you didn’t know, weren’t you? So be happy still. Nothing’s changed, except your realization, and you might as well know the truth.
#5
When eating out at a restaurant, everyone has to order something different so that everyone can taste everything. My kids still think that's what everyone does!
Schmebulock 2 hours ago (edited)
Uhh...they are your kids and you can change that now. You don't want them being some weirdos trying to sample off other people's plates.
#6
From third grade onward I could stay up as late as I wanted as long as I was quiet As a result, I fixed an old broken tv that my dad found and wired up some military surplus headphones I bought in place of the speaker. I’d watch tv until midnight, which, at the time, was when broadcasting normally stopped.
#7
Once when our daughter was very young, I almost shut her hand in a car door. It was 40 years ago and car seat were ridiculously easy for kids to get out. After that I made a game of “stick your fingers in your ears” when I went to close the door. I did this because if the fingers were in the ears, they weren’t in the door. Unknown to me, she thought a closing door would hurt her ears which she found out it didn’t when she was with a friend. She said she felt stupid.
#8
That it was ok to use swear words as long as we rhymed them. Seriously. F**k a duck, s**t a brick, it was ok because it rhymed. That didn't work so well in school though.
#9
We had to announce to the rest of the family any time we were going to use the bathroom, and how long we thought we’d be in there. This was because we only had one bathroom and my father got really mad at us if we interrupted him while he was in there, or if my sister was in there for a long time, as she tended to do when she was a teen.
Some of my fondest memories from childhood are of my sister knocking on the door to get into the bathroom, like it was an emergency, shortly after my father went in there. It was never really an emergency. She just needed to fix her hair or something.
My dad: [Goes into bathroom, newspaper in hand.] Thirty seconds later, my sister comes out of her room and starts knocking like crazy on the bathroom door. My dad: [Godammit I just got in here! Leave me alone!] So, every time any of us needed to use the bathroom for any reason, we’d stand in front of it and say, loud enough for everyone in the house to hear, something like: “I’m going to the bathroom now! I’ll be in there for about ten minutes!” Then we’d pause, in case someone wanted to use it quickly before we went in there.
I didn’t realize until I was an adult that announcing to your family that you were going to the bathroom wasn’t a normal thing to do.
Dragon mama 6 hours ago
We do a version of this in my household because, again, one bathroom for a family of five. But we only do it when someone's getting in the shower Ior thinks they'll be in there for a long time.
#10
I wasn’t allowed to watch more than one movie (or alternatively one hour) of TV a day, and that hour could not be in the morning. I think this rule really messed me up. I could not believe for a long time that anyone could actually watch two movies a day. Till today, I’m drowned with guilt if I watch two movies in a day and I could never keep up on binge watching any TV show before spoilers started coming in. I think my parents made their point for life.
#11
For several years when I was a child, I attended an ultra-conservative “hellfire and brimstone” type of Christian school (of Lutheran denomination); as such, I was taught many things and given many rules which were weird (and hateful, nonsensical, and often downright silly or obnoxious) but which seemed normal to me…up until a defining period in my young life.
Every Wednesday, all students from grades 1 through 8 attended mass at the on-campus church; we were seated by grade in ascending order (first graders up in front, eighth graders at the far back), and one of the many sermons I distinctly remember was a rule about how animals go to hell. “Every time a bird chirps, it worships Jesus,” the pastor declared in his stern, self-assured manner as he stood high above us on the foreboding church podium. “Every time your dog or cat greets you, they worship Jesus. However, because they do not know that they are worshipping Jesus—” he continued without missing a beat, looking down at us in the pews and frequently turning to make unnerving eye contact,“—they will go to hell when they die. You must repent your sins and accept Christ as your savior; then and only then will God grant you the chance to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Because animals cannot do these things, they will burn in hell for all eternity.” Many of the younger children seated in the front rows began crying (imagining their beloved pets suffering in hell, I imagine) while my peers seated around me were intently listening to his every word and regarding it as gospel. This was absolutely normal - for them. I, on the other hand, at around age 7, was starting to develop a healthy skepticism about sermons such as this. I grew increasingly aware of the fact that his arguments and the school’s religious views & rules were terrible. I didn’t have an adult’s experience or knowledge, but I had imagination & intuition, and I knew in my heart that this speech was hateful, unfounded, and not in the true spirit of Christianity. It was a defining period of my life during which I realised that I was part of a very small minority of the people I knew and regularly interacted with, both peers and adults. What the majority found normal, I found shallow, craven, and cynical; children were being spoon-fed rules about the universe which boiled its vast complexities down to mere binaries - good & evil, right & wrong, black & white.
While I am not a religious person, I do not outright deny the existence of a god (whatever that concept means to you) because I cannot know. We are all ignorant of whether God or gods exist and are merely fumbling through this life trying to make sense of higher mysteries such as these, let alone getting by on a day-to-day basis. I do know that if I was capable of believing in God in a conventional, nonsecular manner, I wouldn’t think of it/him/her as something to be feared, but something to be loved and to have faith in. I cannot wrap my mind around the mentality of that pastor and those teachers at that school (nor those kinds of Christians) who preached about a wrathful, vengeful god who nonetheless loves everyone yet condemns innocent animals and people who disagree with its rules to hell to suffer for all eternity. Suffice to say, many of the staff members and other students at this school were very narrow-minded, cruel, and psychologically & physically abusive - that period of my life is as close to hell as I can conceive of from personal experience.
I know this doesn’t address your question exactly the way it was worded, but I felt a strong desire to share this slice of my personal life because of how profound an effect it had on me. As traumatic as my experiences at that school were, they did teach me to be a very critical, analytical, and fiercely independent thinker, and for that much, I am grateful. I’m not the only person who’s been through these types of experiences either, and we owe it to ourselves as active participants of this world to question everything we’re told, whether it be from religious institutions, elected officials, the media, our teachers & mentors, and even our friends & family. Life, the Universe, God - concepts such as these are far too abstract & complex to be quantified and categorized in neat little preconceived boxes that define the way we see the world, the people & institutions which comprise it, and what happens to us after we die.
fzc8yxyj75 8 hours ago
I was told by my religious education teacher (uk), that every time I committed a sin a black spot would appear on my soul, and when it was totally black then god couldn’t see me any more. What a terrible thing to say to a young child. My mother was told that her miscarried babies would languish in purgatory for ever. Wonder why my family isn’t religious. As for the animals, I never heard that one but it’s just horrifying.
#12
I wasn’t allowed to say words or phrases that were substitutions for curse words, like darn, dang, crud or shoot. According to my mom, saying these words was just as bad as swearing, because in your heart you really intended to curse. I still instinctively avoid cursing around my mother to this day.
#13
Any item that I selected for myself while we were out shopping had to be red. My siblings and I were each assigned different colors so that we could easily distinguish ownership of each item. I had a red toothbrush, cup, hairbrush, etc. I think that we tended to take it too far. I always selected red cherry lollipops and the others usually selected lollipops of their assigned color too, with each of us claiming that we had selected our favorite flavor.
Just stopping by 12 hours ago
Not weird or disturbing. Sounds like a parenting hack to minimize fights and keep track of what belongs to which kid.
#14
RUNNING IN A RACE. Something that is taught by almost every parent. School should be over by 17–18. Graduation should be done by 20–21. Post graduation should be completed by 22–23 By 25 you should be doing a perfect job with handsome salary. By 26–27 you should get married, and have kids by 30. Why? With time I realised, these things don't matter if you don't care. I realised these rules are empty, they have no meaning until you acknowledge the made-up meanings given by the society. As soon as I learnt to say I DON'T CARE, this rule that seemed normal started looking absurd. Liberate yourself from this weird rule. Tell that little kid who's still trapped inside, that you're an adult now, you have the right as well as the intelligence to form your own beliefs. Tell him/her to erase the rules stuffed by the society in that kid's mind. It's okay to let them go, if they don't make any sense. See yourself breathing a little more, living a little more, freely flying a little more. Life will become happier.
#15
When my brother and I were outside playing my dad would whistle loudly to call us in. We would have to yell out “sir” to let him know we heard, and then we'd run home as quickly as we could… why yes, he was a DI, howd you know?
#16
When I was younger if anything went slightly wrong in the house my sibling and I would all be spanked in turns until someone confessed, and then that person would get spanked again the same amount of times that we all already had been. For example, when i was maybe 10 my older sister (11) had a fake toy barbie box that could only be opened with a plastic credit card. one time my mother got mad at my sister and took the card away from her for about three months. So during this time the barbie box was essesntially a useless hunk of plastic. Then, one day, my mother decided to open the box and found a dirty tissue in it and she wanted to know who had put it there. Obviously none of us could remember cause A. we all always put stuff in the box and B. we were 11, 10, 8, 7, and 5. So my mom went on a rant about how liars burn in hell and theres no space in heaven for sinners and we all got spanked around 250ish times each until my younger sister said she did it. (she didnt and we still dont actually know who did). She confessed a lot because she was the nicest I guess and just got tired of it. Either way, that how we were punished for lying as kids.
#17
I once worked with a woman who refused to let her children watch any Peanuts Cartoons. She claimed that the cartoons contained subliminal messages of anti-authoritarian and anti-government nature. Specifically the way all the adults voices were all muffled.
#18
The ceremonial manner in which we had to answer the phone: “Hoskinson residence, Andy speaking, may I help you, sir or ma’am?” This was because my father was an old-school career army officer. Everything was “yes sir, no sir,” and god forbid a senior officer call the house and hear a surly teenager answer the phone.
Uncle Schmickle 5 hours ago
That's good training, especially for later in life. Being polite never hurts.
#19
No chewing gum. My Dad hated seeing people chew gum and thinks it's rude especially if chewig and talking. So we were not allowed to have it growing up
#20
Long but I hope interesting:
Beginning when I was very young 7 or 8, my step-father and mother would take my sister and I to small country stores, restaurants and beer joints (small, dirty, drunks only bars) far into the countryside.
The unnamed “towns” were groupings of a few houses with a combination grocery store and beer joint. Usually a gas station and a tiny Baptist church.
The stores were tiny, gloomy and carried a few groceries, very cheap toys and trinkets. The beer joints (country bars) were for serious drunks and only sold beer and the cheapest rot-gut whiskey called hooch and a limited selection of soft drinks. Unshelled peanuts and pickled eggs were the only food available.
No matter how many bills went unpaid, minimal food bought and clothing was not purchased, they always had enough money to spend hours drinking on weekends and sometimes during the week also.
The beer joints were always small, dark and dirty. They would take us with them. We would either spend hours in the car or play inside on the floor. We would take barbies or board games or books.
We played on the floor among the chewing tobacco juice, mud, spilled beer and whiskey, cigarette and cigar butts, ashes and who knows what else. I don't think the floors were ever cleaned. In fact, there was dust and grime on all horizontal surfaces.
We would always go to the grocery store . While there, we were expected, actually required to steal something.
When we finally left, we would go to the car to compare “who got what”. I was young but knew stealing was wrong so I always took the cheapest thing I could find.
If my sister or I did not steal anything, we would be spanked. I don't mean a little smack on the butt. No, these were beat you on the butt until it was swollen deep red. We be barely able to breathe from crying and screaming so hard. We had to steal two things the next time.
They would continue drinking when we got home.
This was but one rule of many. I'll save the others for another question.
#22
I wasn't allowed to answer the door, answer the phone, look through windows, or play outside before 3:00pm.
I was homeschooled in a state where doing so was perfectly legal, but still uncommon at the time. The few times we went to the store during the day, old women would follow us around and ask—with dark, disapproving looks—why we were not in school. The looks sometimes got darker when they were given the answer. My mother knew that nosy, helpful strangers could call CPS. She knew folks who'd had to deal with that mess; the intrusiveness, the interrogation, the take-kids-first-ask-questions-later tendency, the fear kids have to live with afterward. So she decided not to tempt fate. When the regularly-schooled kids were out of sight, so were we.
By the time I was a teen, more people were homeschooling. Strangers stopped giving us weird looks and following us around stores. The local skate rink held “homeschooler day” smack in the middle of Thursday. My mother relaxed the rules, and we could act comfortably in our own home. It was at that point that I realized why we hadn't been able to do so before. She had never told me when I was young—didn't want to frighten me, I suppose.
My parents didn't homeschool me to shelter me, to give me some outlandish education, or because they were off-the-grid. They did it because I was a very bright student who was bored to death in a regular classroom and turning to misbehavior for amusement. Just like a million other homeschool parents out there.
I lived through the times when homeschoolers were afraid to peek through the windows. I lived through the changes that allowed us to have support, community, etc. I don't want my siblings to experience those days of weird rules implemented for nosy, helpful strangers. But every time a homeschool family makes the news, it's always the oddball, abusive ones, never the successful ones.
And I'm afraid my little brother won't be allowed to answer the phone or play outside before 3:00pm.
Beak Hookage 8 hours ago
There's good reason why gifted and talented students are now considered special needs.
#23
My mother, in her typical fascist ways, forced us to stay in our bedrooms when my parents had guests over to our house. Not just stay in our rooms, but she would lose her mind in anger if we came out for a drink or to use the bathroom. In an effort to showboat in front of her friends she would say, “What are you doing out of your room!!!” Now, whether or not this was a general practice amongst parents and children in the 60s, I often saw other families where the parents usually seemed proud to introduce their kids to the guests, often allowing the children to remain in the room. Of course, my father in his usual hen-pecked ways, did nothing to dissuade my mother in her actions.
Tyke 7 hours ago
My parents would often have dinner parties and would want us out of the way. My Mum would put a table in our bedroom, and before everyone arrived we'd have our little dinner party. She'd get us to dress up a bit, put flowers/tablecloth on the table and pretend to be our waiter. Then we'd be allowed to stay up half an hour late (reading) then it was lights off and bed.
#24
You shall not wake up your parents!
(Unless someone’s dying or something’s on fire or things like that, of course).
I was an only child, and a particularly energic one. I had the blessing of having many family members looking over me, but when it was only my parents and I, I understand I must’ve been a bit tiring.
My mother has a sacred respect for sleep. She never wakes anybody up unless it’s absolutely necessary. And she expects the same of the world.
You may see where I’m going with this.
My parents liked to sleep late. They still do. I’m more of a morning person and usually feel weird whenever I sleep over 8 am. And when I was a kid, I’d wake up at 6–6:30 in the morning.
And I was not allowed, under any non-threatening circumstance, to wake them up.
They arranged things for me in the night. I had my toys and my books, and my mom would leave a sandwich and some beverage in the first tier of the fridge. I had pencils and colors and paper. And when I was a bit older (7 or 8, I believe), I had a computer with 2 games: Hercules and Tomb Raider II.
I remember once, being very little, I got bored and painted over the wall. My mother doesn’t remember this, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t say anything that time because she thought “well, I’d rather have him drawing his room that making noise and waking us up”.
And when I was perhaps 5 or 6 I learnt to use the blender… and broke it “making breakfast” for my parents. And once again, they just let me be… because they’d rather have me making a mess in the kitchen that waking them up.
Whenever I tell my friends about this they get scandalized. Apparently, getting up early in the morning and running to their parents’ bed was a big part of their life in the weekends. My gf, joking, has even said that this was a mild form of abuse. But life was like that for me, and I had no problem with it.
#25
Ringing a bell when it was time for dinner, and to come running when you heard it. (There were six kids in my family, so a bell probably made things easier for mom and dad.) It was a way summon us when we were playing outside, up and down the block. I grew up thinking that all families did this. Dinner was a strict routine. We were expected to finish our food, and to ask “May I please be excused?” when done. Our parents had to give us permission to leave the table, take our dishes into the kitchen and rinse them. Except for the bell, I don’t think any of this routine is “weird” … except that families probably don’t do this anymore.
Lost Panda 11 hours ago
... Dinner bell... lunch bell... not strange at all, especially in rural areas... at least not when I was a kid...
#26
Snapping scissors in the air causes badluck to someone. I hate to admit it, but after learning of this dark magical jinx at a very young age, I was as careful as a brain surgeon in the operating room whenever I held scissors until my mid teens. I can't remember how and when I learnt of this superstition, but it was probably just one of those things they tell kids to be more careful with sharp objects. Whatever the reason, no child should be made to have a mini panic attack in art class because they accidentally snapped their scissors. We must put an end to these strange superstitions! Kids are too...
Bookworm 12 hours ago (edited)
Really, it would more useful to just teach kids respect for sharp things - don't cut towards yourself, don't point them at anyone else, replace any safety covers or retract safety sliders (on box cutters) when not actively using the tool, a falling knife has no handle. It's not that complicated.
#27
Seeking permission from my dad before turning on the television. There were times he would go out and we’d have to call him to ask if we could turn on the television and watch our cartoons. He would ask us to do that for a specified time. This was in the early nineties… i thought he had a way of finding out we had turned the television on when he was not home. i think about it today and it cracks me up. Well I thought most of my friends experienced the same thing…
#28
We were not allowed to say the word “lie” in our family. It was considered a swear word and just as bad as s**t or damn. We had to use phrases such as “telling a tale”, “telling a story”, “that’s not true”, etc. My grandmother made us think that was the ultimate disrespect, and I still don’t say it in front of my mother today, but I have no problem with my children saying it around me.
#29
When I was a child, someone told me that: “God lets the people who are too nice die early because there is a shortage of good people in heaven”. I was considered one of the ”good or nice kids” in my school since I was naturally nice. I was worried about this because I didn’t want to die soon. At the same time, I also feel bad whenever I do bad things. Therefore, I made it a point to do at least one small bad deed per day. I would say a bad word, not lend a classmate a pencil, crayon, paper and etc. even though I had lots of these items, I would tease a classmate, lie to a teacher and etc. Later in life I realized that this weird rule was somehow okay. I was literally too nice and when you are too nice, other people tend to take advantage of you. So I guess this weird rule stopped me from being too much of a push over.
#30
“Children should be seen but not heard” and “ don’t say no to your mother/ father” Neither one made any sense to me then or now, 55 years later. Of course nothing was ever explalined to me or my siblings. I would be so surprised and frightened when visitng friends homes and hear them challenge or discuss something with thier parents. Also amazed when thier parents considered them in the conversation! Many years of therapy and personal searching to come to understanding myself and why I am who I am.
The Other Guest 5 minutes ago
"Children should be seen, and not heard - and preferably not seen!" - Mr Grainger, "Are You Being Served?"
#31
Always pass the salt and pepper together, never separately — and set them down on the table, don’t put them in the other person’s hand. This wasn’t exactly a rule; it was always explained as “this is how the Booths prefer it.” But the Booths were my dad and his ten brothers and sisters, my most active and noisy aunts and uncles, so naturally “how the Booths prefer it” = “the best way to do it.” To this day it is very difficult for me to put a salt shaker in someone’s hand, which makes for some weird dances at the dinner table.
#32
Where do I start??? My parents had some completely asinine “rules” that I was NOT allowed to question, nor break for that matter. I was not allowed to stay home by myself for an entire day until I was 14 (this despite the fact that I would have spent most of the day at the neighborhood pool if during the summer). I couldn’t ever read a magazine that came in the mail first, my dad would always fuss and then hide it anyway so I never got to see it, I was not allowed to be the first one awake in the morning and if I was I had to stay in my room, whether I was hungry or not. Oh and speaking of hungry when we went out to eat I had to order off the kid’s menu even when I was way too old to do so. My parents made me lie about my age. When we ate at home and I got seconds on something we had my dad would always fuss if I didn’t ask, which I thought was stupid. Since when should a person have to ask to eat in their own home? I was forced to go to church whether I wanted to or not, forced to wear what my parents wanted me too (lot more when I was younger). One time my bully dad tried to deny me thanksgiving dinner because I refused to wear a dress! Thankfully mom intervened and told him to leave me alone, that I looked fine the way I was (in jeans and a sweater). I could go on and on about the ridiculously asinine c**p I had to deal with.
#33
We weren’t allowed to throw the word “hate” around . My mother was especially intolerant of us saying it about a person because of its viciousness and intensity. But she also objected to my brother and me saying it casually about movies, food, classes in school, etc. If I seethed that I “hated” canned corn, my mother would instruct me sharply to find a different word. I don’t completely understand it, but my mother felt that it was a callous and powerful word and that children couldn’t appreciate that and didn’t have enough lived experience to know what should be “hated.” I am not sure who or what she reserved it for, because I’ve never heard her say it except in jest. When I would go to other kids’ houses and hear them declare that they hated someone, I would glance expectantly at their parents and be surprised when they didn’t react.
#34
I somehow always made my right foot “win” against the left foot. Whenever I was going up or down the stairs, I made it a point that my right foot would be the one to reach the final step. If the left foot was “winning”, I would skip a step. For me, it ended up becoming a norm. The right foot had to “win”. I used to memorize the number of steps in order to make sure that the right foot always made it to the last step. I was a weird kid.
#35
‘Never walk with empty hands’ Okay so let me explain that one a bit more; when I was younger, my family and I used to move around a lot (in my 20 years, i have moved around 8 times and stayed a max. Of 5 years in the same house). Well, if you move that much, your parents tend to learn some skills from the movers. One of them once made the remark to my dad, ‘never walk with empty hands whenever you walk through your house’ - it stuck, and I used to find it a crazy reminder ‘Yeah dad, I know, I’ll walk back and pick my stuff up’ ‘Yeah I walked past that package on the stairs, but it wasnt for me so…’ In the end, picking stuff up when you do some random walks actually does save a lot of time - so, remind yourself to never walk with empty hands (unless youre walking down the stairs - one hand on the wall at all times in that case)
Uncle Schmickle 5 hours ago
Like " time and motion " studies that were conducted in industry years ago.
#36
Never accept money for helping people. Only for making things for people, and for selling things to people that you bought yourself. (Catholic Belgium 1971) Middle class Catholic girls in Belgium, Ireland and Spain took that as a rule from their mothers, in those days. In fact it is the answer to “Why doesn’t anybody pay you for all the work you do, mum?” It was a Matriarchal rule, and it wasn’t all that clear-cut. I mean making dinner was considered “helping people”, not “making things for people”. It was a code of honour.
Asking money for helping people was too close to prostitution and to maid’s work, to be considered respectable. Toppling the Patriarchy was a walk in the park, compared to exorcising the Matriarchy, I can tell you that.
#37
This is more a rule I gave myself rather than a parental rule. I would arrange numerous coloured candies in separate flavour groups so it would always go from my least favourite flavour to favourite. For instance, with a bag of Skittles, I would put all the lemon flavoured candies together in one pile since it’s my least favourite and then lime in another pile and so on with red, grape and finally orange. Then I would eat my least favourite candy to my favourite so I’m always eating the orange last. I think I felt like I was ending on a good note when all my candy was gone since I always had the taste of orange at the end. One of my friends told me she used to do this as a child as well so I feel less of a freak. In a far less long winded answer, my candy always looked like this:
#38
No talking in the car or at the dinner table. My Dad hated, and still hates, chitchat or even talking about important things. He finds talking generally unnecessary and doesn’t get why people say anything unless it’s vitally important. He’d get on very well as a monk with a vow of silence. When I went in a car with friends, or had dinner at their house they would often remark that I was too quiet and I found it quite odd that talking at the table and in the car was OK in their lives. It took me many years to be able to talk in the car and I’m still a lot quieter in the car and at dinner tables than everyone else.
Glasofruix 7 hours ago
My dad is a bit same. We had no such rules but we learnt early on that talking to dad was useless as he would either ignore whatever we were saying, outright tell us he doesn't want to talk to us or belittle us for whatever he would consider useless or childish (almost everything). I'm nearing 40 and i don't talk to him unless necessary, we have nothing in common and he keeps fleeing conversations or we just fight because he's always right and i'm an idiot.
#39
This was a rule that my foster father imposed on us kids ( and, come to think of it, his wife ). When GUNSMOKE was airing on TV, I’m not sure, but I think it was on Saturday evenings, there had to be absolute silence in the house. We were allowed to get up and go into the kitchen for snacks during commercials, but no talking, except in whispers. And God help you if you chose a snack that made noise when you ate it. Chips of any kind were forbidden. None of us ever questioned this. It seemed to be some sacred decree, similar to the Ten Commandments. Even when I grew up and my foster father was long gone, I still felt funny watching re-runs and talking while they were on. The rule only applied to the one program and I don’t think any of us thought it was strange. It was the RULE. That’s all.
#40
My parents didn’t label things as being rules as much as ensuring we used respectable etiquette. I played video games, chased bullfrogs and did whatever for the most part. But we were pretty much textbook “good kids”. They never told us any weird lies in order to get us to stay in line, it was just how it was. please and thank you always because “that’s how it’s done”.
For my kids.. I’m pretty damn strict. My step son had almost no limits when I came into the picture so it’s hard to be the step mom and make solid rules that just stick because I’m mom. Because, well, I’m not.
I have A menagerie of different issues like OCD, PTSD (not from my childhood) panic disorder etc. as well as some other random diseases.
I hate the sound of gurgling and the sound of my kids chewing. I hate slurping. If they don’t say please and thank you, I stare until they realize why I’m staring (mostly because I’ve repeated myself enough times to want to shove my head through a wall repeatedly). You ALWAYS say thank you for a gift because no one owes you s**t. I don’t care if you hate it. NEVER touch a service dog. NEVER run through a parking lot. Always wear shoes outside.
Some are logical but I have to still repeat myself. My step son just learned how to dress himself if that gives any perspective. He’s 5. His mom is completely out of the picture (legit diagnosed psychopath who ran my husband over with a car) but since she never had rules I’m pretty much the evil step mom.
Oh no, I made you say thank you. How terrible of me.
He thinks I’m mean when I tell my bio son to clean his room. Oh no, responsibility. How absurd.
But I don’t lie to the kids. I barely like using Santa primarily because some big fluffy dude didn’t spend $600 on one kid to then be disrespected because of something stupid. “But it’s magic” they say. You know what’s magic? Not starving to death in a third world country.
*ADDITION*
I realize the shoes outside rule may seem strict, it’s because we live in the desert. If you’re not aware of what is in the desert, there are a mixture of wonderful things like “goat heads” that will pierce your feet or Scorpions that will stab you. Sand is hot. The asphalt is hot. The grass is either non-existent or sharp.
Also. Cacti. I fell in one when I was a kid and almost died so I’m pretty protective about that one.
*ADDITIONAL ADDITION*
I apologize for my dry and sarcastic nature, my writing style makes me sound like a real d**k but I’m just extremely blunt. I want to add this bit of clarification for those who think I sound like that one mom who scolds their kids for laughing.
I write the way I speak, so with there being no body language or voice fluctuation involved it just sounds off.
I’m awkward. ♀️
But hey, if you still don’t like my parenting style than so be it. You have an opinion as I have one of my own. we are entitled to said opinions. Just as long as we’re not abusing our kids, to each their own.
#41
I always tried to balance my ‘left’ and ‘right' actions! I thought whatever I did using my left hand/leg/teeth should be replicated on the right, otherwise one side of my body will wear more than the other. So whenever I ate, I would alternatively take bites from each of the sides of my mouth, and always took an even number of bites, to “balance” the bites on both sides. The same thing followed for walking. I walked even number of steps only! If I ever clicked my left teeth by accident, I'd click the right too. But I gave up too soon on my left hand and was a complete righty :p This continued till I was 16, when I had more important stuff to do in life :p I was a weird kid. Chinmay
#42
My mom used to hate it when my twin brother and I played Nintendo way too much- so she would act like we were NOT supposed to have it turned on for more than 30 minutes. This was way back in the early 1990′s- when we were playing the original system.
We had tons of video games at home- and would also rent some at the video store every weekend (unless we got punished for something during the week). So if we played a video game for more than an hour- my mom would start complaining and say we needed to go play outside. If it was at a time we had been going to school- then she would ask if we had homework to get done.
We knew that was just an excuse to try forcing us to turn it off- because she would say that we need to be reading a book if our homework was already finished. She basically complained how the Nintendo did NOT need to be turned on for more than 30 minutes- and that we would always just want to be playing it for hours. We knew it would take much longer than 30 minutes to play an entire game- although we were NOT good enough to get through the whole game until I purchased a Game Genie in 1992. That was when we started actually seeing game endings- even though they usually were disappointing.
It was more than obvious my mom hated us playing Nintendo- because she did unplug it once when we both got in big trouble for something. I later found it hidden inside one of her drawers in her dresser- as she decided we were NOT allowed to play it for a few days. However- my brother and I got invited to other kids’ houses sometimes and would get to play their Nintendo over there. We realized they were allowed to have their Nintendo on for a few hours- and a parent would just say that we needed to take turns playing.
Now if we had kids come over to our house- my mom acted like we could just play video games for about an hour and then needed to go outside. If she thought that my brother and I already had our Nintendo on too long- then she would say to the other kids that it needed to stay off after they arrived.
Lost Panda 11 hours ago
My wife is like this. She'll complain to me about the kids always on their games. Is their homework done? Chores? Bathed? Then what's the big deal. No different than you watching TV for X number of hours.
#43
I have two rules that I think was weird during my childhood. No laughing in the car . My dad have this rule where we can't talk loudly or laugh at anything while in the car. Whenever we told a joke we would try our best to suppressed our laughter but sometimes the sound just slips so snorts can be heard. My dad would then stop the car at the side of the road, got down, and started yelling at us.I always thought this is because the car is small and it's irritating to be with 2 rowdy kids. Boy did that change during college years when I went on trips with friends, we could blow the roof off the car. No talking when he's on the phone . He used to take on calls every now and then so we were trained not to utter a word when he's on the phone. Again I thought this was normal until I saw other parents talk into the phone with kids yelling into the receiver as well. We were trained to be completely silent on both accounts. But now we've grown up and he didn't really care about those rules already so it gets quite loud in the car.
#44
Swallow pills without crushing them or opening the tablets to not choke on it… (because my father always told it was not possible and the reason it would affect the medication on the pill or tablet or capsule.
Only those that are specified (its told on the label) not to open or crush the pill that really shouldn’t. The other ones really don’t matter, they are actually better on stomach if crushed because the substance comes already dispersed instead of concentrated for the stomach do the whole job and that just strains the gastric system. I do this since 17 years old when I almost died suffocated of some silly paracetamol with a dried out giant gel capsule stuck on my epiglottis (I couldn’t breath for 15 seconds and freaked out, broke the glass while running and fleeing in despair around the house without knowing what to do because the water would not even enter my throat, it just spilled out from my clogged mouth). After that I still to this day crush every tablet and pill and open every capsule (just not when it’s obviously too small then I am confident to swallow it).
#45
I was classically conditioned to hate Oreo cream filling. I observe this Oreo Law still today. There were also rules No oreos until my homework was finished, unless… I wanted to go outside, I'll get sick of course, but... If I had ever made it home earlier I could have had one, now it's too close to dinner, I'll have no appetite The Oreos spent many nights without me. But not always, And when I won that chocolate medal, I had to scoop the cream into the garbage. This is law. Law is not to be broken. As an adult its in my nature to scrape the cream off of an oreo. I would never think not to, it's like watching someone eat sunflower seeds whole. People are visibly disturbed, but I'm no stranger to prejudice, I'm left handed.
#46
As a child I never regarded rules as normal or not normal, I regarded them as fair or unfair and also I regarded them as logical and not logical. The ones I considered unfair I would follow only if closely watched, the same as the ones I regarded as not logical. The fear system was the one imposed, the rules regarded as unfair and not logical, would be followed only because of the consequences to me for not following them. As I grew up and became stronger and more independent, I just dropped any rules I felt not fair or not logical. Part of the rules I dropped were the rules of religion, which were not logical but dogmatic, first I dropped the rules, then I dropped God altogether. The rules of religion that were logical and fair, after I dropped God, I adopted as a way of life.
Uncle Schmickle 5 hours ago
Makes sense. Any rule should have logic behind it, and as such, needs to be explained to the child.
What do you think ?
Yu Pan 11 hours ago
We had to answer phone calls in a very specific way and with a rehearsed script. People thought we were phone operators or thought they called into an answering service. If we brought food home or were about to eat, we needed to ask everyone, particularly my parents, if they'd like some. My dad also forbids us from addressing him as "You" only. He's always "Dad". So we can't say, "Can you get me this?", it has to be, "Dad, can you get me this?"
Mike Crow 4 hours ago
We have the “no duff” rule in our house. When I was in the navy during an exercise the term “no duff” meant “this is real” so if a ship reported a fire no duff it meant it was an actual fire and not part of the excercise. With my wife and kids when someone says no duff it means they are not joking or playing around.
Yu Pan 11 hours ago
We had to answer phone calls in a very specific way and with a rehearsed script. People thought we were phone operators or thought they called into an answering service. If we brought food home or were about to eat, we needed to ask everyone, particularly my parents, if they'd like some. My dad also forbids us from addressing him as "You" only. He's always "Dad". So we can't say, "Can you get me this?", it has to be, "Dad, can you get me this?"
Mike Crow 4 hours ago
We have the “no duff” rule in our house. When I was in the navy during an exercise the term “no duff” meant “this is real” so if a ship reported a fire no duff it meant it was an actual fire and not part of the excercise. With my wife and kids when someone says no duff it means they are not joking or playing around.
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