Years ago, I wonder what mother decided that when they used their child’s full name, that meant they were in trouble. “John Jacob JingleHeimerSmith, GET IN HERE, NOW!”
When my mom used our middle names, we knew we were in trouble. Most of the time she would get confused as to who she was yelling at and I would normally get called, CheVickie, a mix of Cheryl, my sister’s name and mine. It didn’t matter, we ran, usually outside, where she couldn’t catch us. My nickname was also Cricket, because I was hyper and never sat still. So, I was fast.
Parents use different methods to beat the crap out of their kids. My mom had this same paddle that she brought out when we were “extra bad.”
I could never understand how she could take out a piece of a board and smack us on the butt with it. Several times. Too bad no one mentioned “time out” in the 60′s. Time out for us meant when she would stop and take a puff of her Salem cigarette between smacks. Okay, maybe I’m lying a bit there. She would never smoke while beating us. That would be a waste of smoke-going-into-her-blackened-lungs inhalation exaltation.
But, most of the time my mom used to give us whippin’s with her hand. I remember dodging her hand as she tried to swipe us while we were in the car. I mentioned before that my mom had burned her hand when she was a baby and had a swirl of scars on the palm of her hand that was witch like. We DID NOT want that hand to touch us. Ew. So, we zigged and zagged when she was swatting at us. Since she didn’t have a pocketbook big enough to hide her paddle, when we were out in public, so “The Hand” had to suffice.
At home, it was much easier to use the belt. David was in charge of getting the belt. I have no idea why. It didn’t matter if he was the one getting whipped, he was the one who had to go get it. So, when we heard, “David, get the belt,” we would run. We knew that it would make matters worse, but it prolonged the agony. She would hold us by one arm and whip us while we did the little dance in a circle while the belt was making contact. My dad would always hide behind the newspaper he was reading. Beltless.
Luckily, my mom never used a wooden spoon on us like I heard a neighbor did.
We would never get any homemade cookies.
Posted by Mumsy on July 28, 2011 at 12:24 pm
My mom used a peach tree limb…wow that was a stinger on bare legs. When I reached the rebellious years she graduated to a real thin, red, plastic belt. Yep, I even remember the color but only remember her using it on me once. I guarantee you it was warranted. I was quite the rebel for a few years. Hugs
Posted by marinasleeps on July 26, 2011 at 4:13 pm
ha ha classic! My parents were a firm believer in the belt. However nowadays you will def get CPS knocking on your door if you even pinch your kid.