so lonely :(
My parents seperated when I was about 4 or 5. I went with my mum and she moved back to a remote island off the west coast of scotland where her family lived. She didnt work and was skint. We lived in a mobile home/caravan thing which was a good 5 miles from the nearest other kids. My mum doesnt drive. I spent years there, just me and my mum, playing on my own. I never had ANY friends as I never socialised at all after school.
My parents got back together and returned to the mainland. I was looking forward to being near other kids, but they moved into a farmhouse in the middle of no-where and again I had to make do with my own company. All the years there, I can remember 2 occasions where other kids came to see me and I never went to see other kids at their houses. Any kind of after-school activity or club was not allowed.
Eventually, they moved to a house in a small village, a house which overlooked a football pitch and large play park. Loads of other kids playing all day, woopee. Except my mum wouldnt let me go out for any length of time in case I was abducted. I had to "check in" with her every 15 minutes whenever I went out anywhere. This basically tied me to a very tight circle around the house. All the other kids could play around the village all day (this was 20 years ago so parenting was generally quite relaxed regarding kids being outside, and the village was a great place for kids to grow up) and regarded me as some kind of freak as I had to keep running home. Bullying ensued.
My mum didnt seem to think it strange that I was a total outcast and spent all my time in my room watching the other kids have fun. Becoming a teenager made no difference, I had to tell her exactly where I was going, who I would be with, and when I would be home. She usually over-ruled and gave me a much earlier time to be home by, and she called the police a couple of times when I was late by 10 minutes or so, and would be in real tears of anguish, certain I had been kidnapped, molested and murdered.

Going to a party? no chance.
Staying over at a friends house? no chance.
Joining the cub-scouts? no chance.

Due to her rediculous over-protectiveness I grew up as a total social reject with no confidence and a complete inability to make friends. Now, approaching 30, Im still stupidly shy, quiet and uncomfortable in crowds.
She has an alzheimers-like wasting brain disease and can barely remember the names of any other family members but she still phones me up at least twice a day to check where I am and if Im ok, ask who Im with and what time I will be out till. She will probably be dead by the end of the year and I cant say im too bothered to be very honest. I love her, but I think her over-protectiveness ruined the formative stages of my life.
(dave likes cheese, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 16:16, Reply)

Not strict
My parents were never particularly strict, although my old man was a bit of monster with him being a lawyer and all....

they were usually pretty cool with my brothers and I unless we did something particularly stupid; then we got to know about it.

My dad did go through this long phase during my 6th form and year out before uni years. Every night before I went out, particularly into town and clubs etc. he'd say "don't get your nose broken"

the one time I can remember him not saying it? you guessed it.

Admittedly I was at a metal gig, headbanging rather than in a fight, when my nose collided sharply with the shoulder of the drummer from my band.

blood started gushing from my nose at an unbelievable rate. I managed to collect most of it in cupped hands while staggering to the toilets where I had to wait for someone coming through the two sets of doors to get in.

Being the polite chap I am I gestured for them to leave before I entered....with a double handful of bloody....needless to say this went everywhere.

Proceeded to then try and wash the blood off my hands to tie my hair back wondering why it was taking so long, before I realised that I was still bleeding on them at approximately the same rate as I was washing them off....

Apologies for length and off-topicitude
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 16:07, Reply)

No baths or school for you!
My Dad started his own super-strict funadmentalist religious cult when I was a child. We weren't allowed to read anything except the bible, and we could only listen to hymns that had been written by god-fearing people. I was forced to drop out of school after grade 10 because "they were corrupting my faith" and because women's only purpose in life is to get married and raise families.

My father was clealry insane. As a result, the only women who would marry him were also insane. My 3rd stepmom instigated a "bath schedule" to deal with the fact that there were seven kids and only one bathroom (and heaven forbid we should bathe together and see one another naked!) So, my bath time was Monday afternoon....that's right, only 1 bath permitted per week for an 11-year old with oliy skin and hair. She once punished me for taking a bath on Sunday, even though there was no one else home at the time.

Fortunately, I moved out so I could finish high school, and am now a faculty member at a Canadian college.
(coolchick365ca, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 16:04, Reply)

Offhand
I can't think of anything too strict my parents inflicted on me. They occasionally forbade me from doing things like going out with friends if I'd been cheeky or anything like that but more often than not I used to get the "we're not angry, just disappointed" thing like so many others on here.

I wasn't allowed to read magazines like Bliss or Sugar till I was 14 (although I did anyway, there's only so much of magazines like Girl Talk anyone can take). I still count one of the most mortifying days of my life as the day I came home from school and found that my dad had Been Through My Stuff (something I still hate people doing) to "tidy up", and tidy up he had. However, in "tidying up" he'd thrown away scrappy little notes from friends and stacked all my diaries neatly and thrown away all the More magazines I used to keep in my wardrobe (when it used to have centrefolds in).

For a long time I was only allowed to hang around with that nice Andrew, and anything with "nasty colours" (E numbers, because they'd made me go hyper once, when I was three, which couldn't possibly have had anything to do with anything else) in was off-limits till I was about 15.

On the other hand from the age of about 13 my mum encouraged me to wear make-up and so on. Boyfriends weren't really mentioned, and still haven't been. If my parents got wind of me liking someone they would tease me mercilessly, which was embarrassing and totally unnecessary. I started keeping a diary in French to put a stop to all of that.

I'm 21 now and I still refuse to tell my parents anything about anyone I may or may not be interested in. I like to call it a "don't ask, don't tell" policy but it doesn't stop them asking occasionally.
( Maladicta, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 15:59, Reply)

I still give my parents a hard time about this.
When I was about six or seven, my family was visiting my grandmother.

I was allowed to watch the entirety of the film Poltergeist, wherein trees attempt to eat children, and a large mucus-covered skeleton is vomited up by a gentleman who has imbibed the worm from a bottle of tequila. My parents had absolutely no problem with this, although it caused me pants-wetting nightmares for years to come.

However, when the next feature came on after Poltergeist had ended, they freaked out and sent me downstairs. It was GREASE.

Because apparently it's fine for wee Ali to watch two and a half hours of horror, but HEAVEN FORFEND she should see one single scene that lasts TWO SECONDS wherein it is implied that Stockard Channing has the SEX.
(Alliath, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 15:51, Reply)

I got done
The dreaded Grange Hill-esque act of being caught shoplifting happened to me when I was about thirteen.
After my mum tearfully picked me up from the police station with my Brother and Sister in tow sniggering, the tense car journey home was made all the worse with the words "Wait til your Father gets home" ringing in my ears.
I was sent to my room to await my fate.

Once my drunken Father came home , I heard his happy whistling turn into a roar of anger as he hurtled up the stairs toward me. I braced myself as he kicked open the door and launched himself into a frenzy.
About fifteen minutes of him kicking and punching me round the room ensued, along with yanking my "stupid fucking hair" and threatening to rip it off my head.
Embarassingly enough I had been caught stealing a 'Monster Squad' video, so dear old dad removed each of my prized videos from my collection one by one and stamped them to pieces in front of me.

"Not the Batman pleeease…"


I found that quite strict.
(wrigglesworth, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 15:01, Reply)

Staying out late
When I was a wee lass (well, I’m still only 5’1”, but I mean when I was 15 or so), my dad didn’t want me to stay out late at a friend’s 16th birthday party. He told me to be back by 11pm “or else”, and he took my house keys away. If I was late, I was not going to be let back in the house.

I went to the party, and despite my friends egging me on, I did a Cinderella, and jumped in a cab home before the party ended. My dad was a bit scary sometimes and I didn’t want to risk his wrath. The taxi pulled up to my house at precisely 11.02pm.

My father, a man of his word, didn’t let me in.

I had to stay at a neighbour’s house for three days until my granny (the only other person with house keys) flew back early from holiday in South Africa to let me in.

When she finally managed to open the door, he acted like nothing had happened, even though my entire neighbourhood had been calling on the phone and shouting through the letterbox for days.

The worst thing about the whole incident was going to school though. I had to borrow clothes from my mates and explain why I needed them.

I never forgave him for that. He’s dead now.
(Damsel_in_mild_peril, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:58, Reply)

Guns
Toy guns were banned, even if we made them ourselves out of paper. They were banned at school too, even if made out of multilink. So when I bought my little brother a policeman's kit for his birthday, I was forced to open the pack, remove the little gun and individually wrap the handcuffs, truncheon, badge, etc. That's right, it's okay to play at clubbing people, stabbing them with swords, tying them up, handcuffing them to things, etc, but not to pretend to shoot each other. Still undecided on this one. But how come my little brothers got toy space ray guns a few years later?

Thinking about it, they were very protective of our fragile little minds (no ITV, no news, no toy guns), but relatively relaxed about our bodies. So I walked the 20 minutes home from school alone from the age of 7, I used to catch the bus to and from town for a shopping trip with just my sister when we must have been about 6 and 10, etc.

Oh, James Tiger Woods, I feel your pain, but that was your parents, not the Catholicism. I too was raised Catholic, even attending a Catholic primary school for a while, and I never met the attitude and strictness you did. You're not a Flynn are you?
(Skittlemcfluff ......................, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:36, Reply)

It's all alright now
I don't think my mum was strict as much as just overprotective. I wasn't allowed to watch 12s, 15s or 18s until I reached the appropritate legal age, or watch TV after 9pm until I was about 16, so I never saw on-screen sex until I was about 15 or 16. (This is probably why I was sexually retarded until my late teens and had to ask my friend what a blow job was at the age of 14 and what wanking was when I was 15, in front of the boy I fancied.)

I wasn't allowed to drink alcohol ever, and she told my uncle off for giving me a glass of wine at Christmas when I was 15.

If I went out between the ages of probably about 14-16 I had to be back by 9, and I wasn't allowed a mobile to phone her on until I was about 15 either.

As soon as I turned 16 though and went to Amsterdam and got excessively drunk I was suddenly allowed to dye my hair and go out drinking (as long as I was back by midnight, but this was before 24 hour drinking and there was no way I could have got into clubs.)

Now she doesn't mind what I do, as long as I text her to say where I'm staying, but apparently my Grandad thinks I should act more responsibly and never go out.

Oh - except an isolated incident where a male friend of mine and I were sitting on my bed, fully clothed with my sister in the room, because there was no room on the floor and she thought it was inappropriate. She doesn't seem to mind me and my boyfriend being in my bedroom with the door closed though even though he is 5 years older than me.
(Marmite Omelette ...but I feel better having screamed, don't you?, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:30, Reply)

Please help!!!!
My mother is so strict she told me thay if I don't make it to the Best page she'll take away my keyboard and mouse.

So click "I like this!" now

Her cane is a good 4 foot long!
(Biff..., Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:19, Reply)

purplegod
yeah, the shirt thing - my mate Dan's mum would never let him wear a plain black or brown shirt, given that they're jewish and it's got facist overtones. You'd think it would be an issue for him, being a hairy old metaller, but it's something he totally agrees with....
( yes yes yes man oi mate, someone's writtten 'bum' on your neck, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:17, Reply)

My boyfriend's parents
Won't let me stay at his house later than 11pm.

He is 24 years old.
(Marmite Omelette ...but I feel better having screamed, don't you?, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:16, Reply)

sliiiiightly off-topic but harsh nonetheless.
My mate's dad (will remain anonymous) was very much against him getting tattoos. When he finally got one and showed him, his dad said "the last person in our family to get a tattoo was your grandad. In Auschwitz."

Overreaction?
( yes yes yes man oi mate, someone's writtten 'bum' on your neck, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:13, Reply)

true story

Nick Cave said in an interview that his very young son wrote a 'song', where he'd pluck one string of his miniature guitar and sing "Mummy and Daddy are dead, Mummy and Daddy are dead".
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:02, Reply)

catfights!
I hit puberty at exactly the same time my Mother hit the menopause.


It weren't pretty...
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 14:00, Reply)

More Chewing Gum
I just remembered another chewing gum incident.
One day my little brother came bursting in to my bedroom, "I've found a way to get chewing gum!" Me and my other bro immediately wanted to know, so he dragged us outside.
"look, it's everywhere!', he said, pointing at the ground.
"It's hard to peel off, and a bit gritty at first, but after you've chewed it for a bit it's just the same!"
We declined and went back inside.
(Hericane a magical darkness lingers here, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:59, Reply)

I must admit they never got mad at me for staying out late
but I really wanted that shell suit.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:55, Reply)

Chewing Gum
I was never allowed chewing gum or bubblegum when I was a kid, as a result of this me and my brothers were completely obsessed with it.
One day I went round to my friend, Mary-Ann's house, and was given a stick of wrigleys.

I was in heaven!
I chewed an chewed for the rest of the afternoon, then when my Mum came to pick me up, I carefully wrapped it back up in the silver paper and hid it for later.
At bedtime I could hardly wait to unwrap it and have another go. I chewed and chewed until eventually I fell asleep, the gum fell out of my mouth and got tangled in my hair. The next day I awoke to find my hair completely matted on one side. I had to confess all to my Mum, who then (badly) scissored off one side of my hair, leaving the other half as it was.
I looked awful.

Incidentally, I wasn't allowed to watch ITV either, in case I saw adverts.
(Hericane a magical darkness lingers here, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:54, Reply)

Catholicism
Not sure if that's the right spelling....

But the pretext is religion on the whole.

My parents were strict catholics so every Sunday was church. You go to hell for a lot of things you know.... And confession, communion, confirmation, Christmas midnight mass, Easter services, Palm Sumday, etc.

Not so much banned I guess, but banned from fun as a ruul - Cathlolic = Fun-optomy.

Or sense of humour bypass, depends how you look at it.

Either way, anything that I wanted to do but was regarded as fun was not allowed as you can't do anything fun AND adhere to a strict religious code.

The worse part was that while at boarding school (secondary) I still had to go to church as my parents insisted as the school dragged me.

Primary school was already a Catholic school run by nuns with a church right next door - Don't get me started on that......

I'm still angry about the boarding school thing, I really am...
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:54, Reply)

I know that somewhere
Kelly Osbourne is sitting at a computer going "um, well what about...OK, one time he...fuck."
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:40, Reply)

Grounding
Stopping your kids from going out to play with their mates was one hell of a punishment for most people. Except me. At the mere age of 11 I would spend all my free time sat at my ZX Spectrum coding games. So my groundings would basically involve just being banned off the computer! So harsh. I had to go out instead!

One time they tried grounding me to my bedroom. 3 weeks in my bedroom with food brought up to me and only allowed out to the toilet. That didnt last long!

The worst thing my parents ever did was threaten to unplug the comptuer because i wasnt getting my dinner. I was just trying to finsih off that last bit of code. I wasnt allowed to leave it on and got given 5 seconds to turn it off. Sadly it took the old zx spectrums tape player a little longer than 5 seconds to save. In an instant 700 lines of code.. gone. And the game "Metro Cars 3" was never born.:( so so sad ;(
(Miggyman, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:21, Reply)

my parents
made me play Dungeons and Dragons.

Apparently it's character-building.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:21, Reply)

I know someone whose Mum

doesn't like Songs of Praise as much, now that it's all rock songs.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 13:14, Reply)

Irish Catholics

Basically I would burn in hell for so many things from using too much hairspray on my ridiculously spiky hair, to group action in a car park (which I didnt do).

It turned out by the age of 15 they had pretty much given up and gave me no further trouble in this regard.

I am looking forward to creating many convoluted and impossible rules for my own daughter as she approaches her teens to ensure she appreciates the tiny amount of freedom I will allow her...kidding of course.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 12:56, Reply)

war toys !
being the product of a pair of 1960's drug addled hippies i was banned from playing with war toys everything from a toy plastic soldier (even the parachute man you used to chuck over the bannister) through to action man - i did have a light sabre though

television was frowned upon - although i wish they banned my older sister from watching Dr Who in front of me - the music still gives me the creeps and i cannot watch horror

ummm maybe thats the reasons why i am a pacifist and was choosen last at school for sport ?????
(dare34 group hug?, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 12:54, Reply)

helly Christmas
One Boxing Day, my mum insisted that we go to visit her brother. Me and my sisiter said we didn't want to go because he was a thuggish, violent drunk and his kids were all illiterate criminals.

So my mother made us give all our Christmas presents back. We retaliated and made her give hers back to us. After a few days, she relented and agreed to return our presents.

I couldn't offer to do the same - I'd sold her presents to my mates. Nor did I much care to have hers returned. As usual, she'd bought me cheap clothes I'd never wear. That was the last Christmas we ever bought each other presents.

Should I be consulting a psychiatrist on this stuff ...?

EDIT: This same uncle once bought his five sons bicycles for Christmas. When they woke him up at dawn on Christmas Day, he made them cut their bikes up with hacksaws as a punishment.
(frankspencer, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 12:50, Reply)

Prying mother
Between the ages of about 12-16 my rather bizarre mother forbade me to read any other magazines than the watered down piss of TV Hits and Smash Hits. I wasn't allowed to read Mizz or Sugar, as apparantly they were for "when I turned 18", despite the fact that these magazines were aimed at 12-16 year olds, and when I turned 18 I was more likely to be reading bloody Playgirl. Therefore I had to resort to buying these magazines in secret and stashing them in various places around my room. She inevitably found them during one of her weekly room searches (which she still denies) and sat me down for a talk.

She also insisted on giving me not one, not two but FOUR "sex talks", which co-incided with the beginning of every relationship I had, from the age of 12. I wasn't allowed to kiss a boy until I was 14, and wasn't allowed to sleep with anyone until I was 18, and preferably not even then. (Broke both these rules, if only you knew the truth mother dearest...)

Despite being in a relationship for over four years mother has only just relented to letting Mr Posage stay over, and then strangely claimed that "he had been allowed to stay over all along", denying ever claiming that he was to sleep in the spare room if he did want to stay over, and requesting that I stay in his spare room while I was at his house. When I confronted her about said prude-ishness, she claimed "it's not me that's worried you know, it's your father" which was total utter bollocks as my father repeatedly stated he couldn't give a toss.

To add insult to injury my 18 year old brother, who has never been in a relationship, was given a large pack of condoms by my mother before he went on holiday with his friends. The sleaze.
(posage As I turned the corner I felt muscular and compact, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 12:49, Reply)

The thin edge of the occultish wedge...
To say my mother is a little bit religious is like saying the Pope has a bit of a fondness for the Virgin Mary.
Therefore as not only our legal guardian but me and my brother Weazal's spiritual one, she was duty bound by the big man himself to safeguard our pure little souls from the compelling influence that the devil himself spreads through the electronic media that is TV.
So we were banned from watching all television on Sunday (even religious programmes such as Songs of Praise)
and on any other day:
Scooby Doo
Rentaghost
Rod Hull and Emu (that Grotbags, she was a witch you know)
any children's drama with any witches in, ghosts etc)
Robin of Sherwood (damn satanic pagans)
my various girl comics (Bunty, Misty) were always checked and if the had horscopes in, they were removed.
I did have my 45s magazine cancelled too (70s used to list the lyrics to chart hits of the day) but that was because I didn't understand the lyrics to Grace Jones' "Pull up to the bumper baby" but my mother did.
Anyway such programmes etc were consider to be the thin end of a very satanic wedge and if we had been allowed to view them heaven only know what would have happened to us, from the stories she used to tell us, probably in a padded cell screaming about imps.
We were also banned while on holiday and visiting Boscastle in Cornwall to enter the Witch Museum (even if we did pay with our own money).
( Not just a hatstand inflamed in the membrane inflamed in the brain, Fri 9 Mar 2007, 12:25, Reply)

Woody & Verz's dads
Although my pal Verz was something of a teraway as a kid, being raised in an Army family with a very strict Sergeant father meant that he was snapped back onto the straight and narrow pronto once evidence of his misdemeanours came to light. Verz's family are lovely, even if I haven't seen them for years his mum and dad make me feel welcome, ply me with coffee or beer and make sure that I'm looked after like a long lost son.

Now through Verz, I know Woody who was also from an Army family with a sergeant major Dad. Boys being boys, there was some epic examples of piss artistry and moderate bad behaviour, but the moment the line was crossed the mother of all bollockings would ensue.

Aged 17 Verz ups and joins the Army to follow in the family tradition. A few months later he returns from leave with a driving license and a superannuated Ford Escort wearing German number plates, apparently purchased from an RAF pilot. The fact that now Verz has carte blanche to drive like a loon around Ipswich as GATSOs and parking tickets will never be traced goes to his head somewhat when he collects Woody and they screech off in search of some girls to impress.

They chance across a group of unchaperoned and underage ladies sat drinking cider in the grounds of a local school.

In charged Verz, gunning the Escort across the field and pulling a handbrake turn with tortured speakers bellowing distorted Joey Beltram at full blast. Woody is sipping from a can of Stella in the passenger seat shouting something like "Oi Oi!" at the carrot crunching, cider soaked girls.

You can probably see where this is going now, can't you?

Well, somehow Verz lost control of a 1.6 litre Ford Escort and ended up flying off the field and bumping down a grassy verge. Woody spills Stella all over the dashboard and much swearing ensues. The runaway Escort comes to rest at an angle of 45 degrees nose down and less than a foot away from a concrete post. Attempts to reverse up the slope proved fruitless and only resulted in copious amounts of wheelspin.

Woody and Verz sheepishly emerged at the top of the slope to much laughter and jeering from the girls. Being in the age of BM (before mobiles) they saunter off to the phone box to arrange a tow truck. Then disaster strikes when Verz's credit card is refused.

Oh shit. Plan B is quickly hatched.

"Dad, can you possibly loan me some cash please?" Asks Verz

"Why?" asked Verz snr, quite rightly sensing that something is clearly wrong.

"Erm, I need a tow. My car is stuck in a ditch"

"How the fuck did it get there son?" growled snr, knowing full well that girls and showing off had something to do with it.

"I, erm hit some standing water and aquaplaned..."

Verz's dad arrived, paid for the tow truck and made sure that the car was free of damage and that both Woody & Verz made good the school field before lining them up in front of the still present girls (who'd hung around on the promise of free entertainment) and delivered a military bollocking of epic proportions - he was also a serving NCO thus entitled to punish a snotty private in any way he saw fit.

Both boys were stood to attention in a field with sweating palms and a severe case twitching bums while Sgt Verz Snr shouted and screamed.

Now at this moment in time, Woody's dad was returning from shift and chanced upon the vision of his son and his son's best mate stood rigid in a field, a tow truck and Verz snr screaming. Realising something is amiss, he rolls up and starts screaming in sargent major style also.

Both parents took the same side, both parents made sure the damage was made good and of course both miscreants were sufficiently chastised as to ensure that playing silly buggers never happened again.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 9 Mar 2007, 12:21, Reply)