Who Remembers Parental Threats? What Gems Did Your Mother Use on You?

My mother didn't threaten us with anything. My father, OTOH, would keep us in line by telling us that if we (my brother & I) weren't good, he would sell us to the used boy lot in the Bronx. What could be more frightening than that?

Believe it or not I was a well mannered child. I only had one meltdown that I can recall. I was 5 years old and saw a (newly released) Princess Leia doll by Kenner on the shelf at JC Penney one afternoon. I told mom I had to have it. She said “no” which she rarely did. I threw a bitch fit right there and embarrassed her. She instantly put the doll in the shopping cart and I instantly stopped my meltdown. I realize this doesn’t align with what Op was asking but it triggered a long lost memory so I thought I’d share it for shits n grins.

"Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about."

- For years I had no idea what he was talking about.

" We're so disappointed in you."

Unfortunately it was said to me at birth.

I'll sell you to the gypsies!

My grandmother who raised me was a major cunt and terrible at being a good parent.

I remember she would frequently yell at me because she was a controlling freak about how I was bad/disobedient and my future kids someday would be worse than me as a warning and another gem was during arguments she would say you may be mad at me now but one day I will be gone and you will miss me so much you will cry bitter tears for treating me this way!

At home there were no threats, just a spanking after a few firm "knock it off" warnings. If we were in public there was a sly pinch to the back of my arm followed by a "do you need to go to the bathroom?" stage whispered through a smile into my ear. To be fair we were rowdy children, who were always asking for it.

Such lame threats.

My mom used to threaten giving us up to foster care. I’m really close to my siblings so the idea of being split up was terrifying. She used that enough that I eventually made internal plans on how we’d stay in touch or which relatives we could live with. She was a single mother, so I understand her stress, but to this day she doesn’t know how much her stress- and bitterness-fueled hours’ long yelling and days’ of depression impacted us.

I would get threatened with Catholic school regularly.

[quote]"Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about."

Ah, that was one of my dad's favorites too!

When we were small, there was a family that lived in our town that were practically feral, with many kids (who introspect were probably very mentally disabled) and numerous barking dogs so my dad would say he was going to drop us off at their house if we didn't behave. Even as a kid I didn't take it seriously, but I used to cringe when we'd drive by their home, just imaging that den of crazy

My dad and I didn't have a good relationship. It reminded me of Jack Nicholson and his son in The Shining. He liked to terrify me and there was nothing "fun" about it. He'd spread very mean things about me and said mean things to me. For example, whenever I was sawing or cutting something, he'd step in and say (very sickly) "watch you don't *cut your throat*" with an evil glare. I'd wake up to find him just staring me. When my mother wasn't around, he was physically and emotionally abusive. Decades later, I finally pieced it all together from things he said: he resented me because my mother treated me better (in his eyes) than she treated his other three children that lived with us. Imagine, a mother being more partial to her child. Instead of communicating with her, he chose to hate me for it.

I never got threatened, I got bribed. If you do this, you get this…it was a win/win for everyone. There was a look, though, that you never wanted to invoke. When you know the rules you can play the game

My mother only had to give us "the look" to keep us in line. My father rarely if ever exerted any parental influence over us. He looked upon us guest tenants more than children.

In Florida there are mango trees with the supplest branches that make good whips. They sting like a motherfucker. My dad would keep a young branch on a glass shelf over the dinner table and if we were unruly or sassed back he would beat the shit out of us with it.

She didn't make threats, she just beat me as often as she could.

My mother would threaten to send me to live with my dad because I couldn’t hide my disappointment with her whorish ways. My dad is a great guy, it was just that i didn’t want to move away from my friends.

I brought you into this world and i can take you out.

As a little kid I used to get bitch slapped for saying "I didn't ask to be born" always precipitated by impending or fresh beats . To this day I still want to know why the fuck they even had me. I might throttle her when she's old enough, see if I can get an answer in the end, using her methods of course.