Yup... regular bedroom searches and subsequent interrogations for anything found to be suspicious
That's the story of my life. The sad thing is my mother is STILL like that. She'd come over to my house and look through everything. I'd never leave her alone in my house for one minute.
When I was a teenager, I converted an old answering machine into a phone recorder. I used to tape phone convos with women I was interested in, and I kept many of these tapes in a white folder. I also kept them hidden away. The worst was when my mother found this folder and LISTENED to each and every one of those tapes. Being a repressed teenager, this didn't help my depression. After that, more often I'd come home and find my bedroom torn apart. I hated it.
Even after I grew up, she'd come up to my room, look through my tapes, and pick out which ever ones she wanted to listen to. The thing that pissed me off is she would never put them back.
It's pretty sad that my mother will listen to my wife and not me. Just because I'm her son, she can degrade me, borrow my shit, ruin it, and not offer to replace it. Whenever stuff like this happens, my wife approaches her about it since I'll have no effect on her.
Then my mother wonders why I don't want to do any favors for her. She can get someone else to fix her shit.
Sorry, went off on a rant.