Rules are good for afamily. 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, discovereda fewQuora threadswhere people have been sharing things about their households that they thought were normal while growing up but later realized were pretty weird.Continue scrolling to check them out and don’t miss the chat we had with our parenting expertVicki Broadbent.This post may includeaffiliate links.
Rules are good for afamily. 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, discovereda fewQuora threadswhere people have been sharing things about their households that they thought were normal while growing up but later realized were pretty weird.
Continue scrolling to check them out and don’t miss the chat we had with our parenting expertVicki Broadbent.
This post may includeaffiliate links.
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.
Vicki has a toddler, a tween, and a teen, and she toldBored Pandashe’s usually pretty flexible.
“As children grow, mature and their needs change, so, for example, bedtimes get progressively later … They still get the appropriate sleep for their age, of course, but equally we allow them to stay up later during the holidays when they’re off school and they wake later too.” The same applies to other areas.
“We do expect them to consistently help with chores but exceptions are made for celebratory days like Christmas and their birthdays. I’ve raised all three of my children in the Montessori way so they’ve been helping with age-appropriate tasks from a young age,” the mom explained.
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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.
A YouGovsurveyof 1,000 American adults discovered that 38% of them felt that their parents were somewhat (or much) stricter when it came to rules compared to those of other children their age at the time.A similar share (36%) of Americans say their parents' overall strictness was about average.Only 18% of Americans say their parents were somewhat (or more) lenient than other children’s parents.One might think that about as many people would have grown up in households with above- and below-average-leniency, but that’s not how it looks to adults in retrospect.
A YouGovsurveyof 1,000 American adults discovered that 38% of them felt that their parents were somewhat (or much) stricter when it came to rules compared to those of other children their age at the time.
A similar share (36%) of Americans say their parents' overall strictness was about average.
Only 18% of Americans say their parents were somewhat (or more) lenient than other children’s parents.
One might think that about as many people would have grown up in households with above- and below-average-leniency, but that’s not how it looks to adults in retrospect.
That it was ok to use swear words as long as we rhymed them. Seriously. Fk a duck, st a brick, it was ok because it rhymed. That didn’t work so well in school though.
Regardless of how strict their parents were, most Americans say there was control over multiple areas of their lives—three in four report they had rules for doing chores, and the same share said they had a curfew.Most Americans also say they grew up with several school-related rules such as getting good grades (71%) and doing homework (71%), as well as rules around consuming alcohol (69%) or smoking (68%).Additionally, half of Americans (50%) say they grew up with rules around dating, and 40% were instructed what they could or couldn’t do with their hair or makeup.
Regardless of how strict their parents were, most Americans say there was control over multiple areas of their lives—three in four report they had rules for doing chores, and the same share said they had a curfew.
Most Americans also say they grew up with several school-related rules such as getting good grades (71%) and doing homework (71%), as well as rules around consuming alcohol (69%) or smoking (68%).
Additionally, half of Americans (50%) say they grew up with rules around dating, and 40% were instructed what they could or couldn’t do with their hair or makeup.
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.
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.
Another thing about rules is that they get broken—or at least challenged. As children realize they have a voice, they begin seeking more independence from their parents, testing the boundaries that were set up for them.Vicki Broadbent also experiences this in her own family. “There is push-back on rules, especially from my teenager,” the author ofMumboss(UK) andThe Working Mom(US and Canada) said.“It’s important to understand tweens and teens are going through puberty and equally might have friendship woes or homework and exam stress, so during high-stress periods, we would limit chores and also understand if they didn’t feel able to help,” she explained. “As long as for the most part, they are helping out, we’re happy. We want our kids to have a fun childhood too so it’s a balance!“If only every parent did.
Another thing about rules is that they get broken—or at least challenged. As children realize they have a voice, they begin seeking more independence from their parents, testing the boundaries that were set up for them.
Vicki Broadbent also experiences this in her own family. “There is push-back on rules, especially from my teenager,” the author ofMumboss(UK) andThe Working Mom(US and Canada) said.
“It’s important to understand tweens and teens are going through puberty and equally might have friendship woes or homework and exam stress, so during high-stress periods, we would limit chores and also understand if they didn’t feel able to help,” she explained. “As long as for the most part, they are helping out, we’re happy. We want our kids to have a fun childhood too so it’s a balance!”
If only every parent did.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.
I was not allowed to say the word FART
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.
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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
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.
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…
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…
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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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
‘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)
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.
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 st. 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.ADDITIONI 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 ADDITIONI apologize for my dry and sarcastic nature, my writing style makes me sound like a real dk 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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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