I Got Spanked As a Kid
When i was little, i'd get spanked every so often for just being naughty. I was rarely "bad", but just typically naughty. If you haven't noticed my other stories, it's safe to say that my mom was a spanker. I think saying she was "strict" would be unfair. She wasn't so "strict", but she was dependable when it came to keeping me and my younger sisters in line. We had far more fun and laughs and good times than bad. And we were always given the freedom to make mistakes... as long as we had learned from them. Not learning (or caring to remember) was what got our bottoms warmed more often than not.
Spankings were our defacto punishment when words and previous warnings had failed. Occasionally she would let some things slide, or more likely, was too tired, frustrated, or emotionally exhausted to act on our default consequence. For my sisters and I, the possibility always loomed, but we'd still push limits and exploit openings in mom's mood. Sometimes this worked... other times not.
I have to laugh when i read some recollections about how some were spanked a few times at 5-9, but it was always as a "last resort", or at the bottom end of some progressive line of consequences. Whatever works I guess. That certainly wasn't the case in our little cozy home. I also found it interesting how spankings are supposed to become fewer and fewer as the child reached double digit maturity.
Wait....What!!?? That definitely wasn't the case with me. They didn't get fewer, they got more frequent once i became an official "tween".
The older I got, the more often the little things would get me knee time. I was supposed to "know better" by then. Chores, a non-clean room, or messy bathroom were always a common reason. If procrastination were an officially sanctioned Olympic sport, i'd be a gold medalist, proud to represent my country. But it wasn't one, and not likely to become one anytime soon. So it's safe to say that my talent in the sport was discouraged.
I remember once when my room was completely spotless in the morning. The bed was made, chores were done, and i was soooooo borrrreeeed. I decided to 'organize' my closet, which to me meant removing everything, refolding and rehanging, sorting and tossing. Half way through my mission, a friend called and i went to her house...leaving my room looking like a large explosion had occurred. I got home later in the afternoon, mom immediately grabs my arm and drags me into my room for an explanation of why my clothes that she had just recently ironed were thrown into a big pile on the bed and left. I told her what i was doing, but that wasn't good enough. I spent the next few minutes over her knee. I think i was 12 or 13 then. Don't remember exactly because this misjudgement was not so uncommon.
Those spankings never seemed fair. But in all honestly, finishing what I started was always a challenge for me. And still is really. Any little distraction would draw me into doing something else- which of course earned me lots more times over moms knee, reminding my bare bottom about this little quark in my personality.
Other little things would include using mom's make up without permission. This was a no-no without asking, and even when I did ask, mom had to be in a really good mood to say yes. But at age 12, and working diligently on creating my glam-look, Mom's new mascara or lipstick always seemed be the perfect hue.
I recall once I was getting ready for school. After "twirling" my hair (to normal people, this means using a curling iron), I put the hot iron down, not noticing mom's lipstick was close. I didn't use the lipstick then, but it was there, and i wasn't looking or caring. Nor did I unplug the curling iron before i raced out of the house to catch the bus - always at the last possible moment.
Mom later discovered my careless mistake. I didn't just ruin her lipstick. That would be bad enough. I ruined her MAC lipstick. This was something she had recently bought as a treat to herself - a rarity when your single mom of 3 girls on a narrow budget. And of course, she noticed it while she was getting herself ready for work. I can imagine it was not a great way to start her day. I didn't find out about it until she got home from work. I had a pretty good day...up to then. Needless to say, i laid on my tummy that night doing my homework thinking how mean my mom was while suffering the agony of pre-algebra.
I wish I could claim this one time was a lesson learned.
"Thick".... how many of us know this word for it's alternative meaning?
Spankings were our defacto punishment when words and previous warnings had failed. Occasionally she would let some things slide, or more likely, was too tired, frustrated, or emotionally exhausted to act on our default consequence. For my sisters and I, the possibility always loomed, but we'd still push limits and exploit openings in mom's mood. Sometimes this worked... other times not.
I have to laugh when i read some recollections about how some were spanked a few times at 5-9, but it was always as a "last resort", or at the bottom end of some progressive line of consequences. Whatever works I guess. That certainly wasn't the case in our little cozy home. I also found it interesting how spankings are supposed to become fewer and fewer as the child reached double digit maturity.
Wait....What!!?? That definitely wasn't the case with me. They didn't get fewer, they got more frequent once i became an official "tween".
The older I got, the more often the little things would get me knee time. I was supposed to "know better" by then. Chores, a non-clean room, or messy bathroom were always a common reason. If procrastination were an officially sanctioned Olympic sport, i'd be a gold medalist, proud to represent my country. But it wasn't one, and not likely to become one anytime soon. So it's safe to say that my talent in the sport was discouraged.
I remember once when my room was completely spotless in the morning. The bed was made, chores were done, and i was soooooo borrrreeeed. I decided to 'organize' my closet, which to me meant removing everything, refolding and rehanging, sorting and tossing. Half way through my mission, a friend called and i went to her house...leaving my room looking like a large explosion had occurred. I got home later in the afternoon, mom immediately grabs my arm and drags me into my room for an explanation of why my clothes that she had just recently ironed were thrown into a big pile on the bed and left. I told her what i was doing, but that wasn't good enough. I spent the next few minutes over her knee. I think i was 12 or 13 then. Don't remember exactly because this misjudgement was not so uncommon.
Those spankings never seemed fair. But in all honestly, finishing what I started was always a challenge for me. And still is really. Any little distraction would draw me into doing something else- which of course earned me lots more times over moms knee, reminding my bare bottom about this little quark in my personality.
Other little things would include using mom's make up without permission. This was a no-no without asking, and even when I did ask, mom had to be in a really good mood to say yes. But at age 12, and working diligently on creating my glam-look, Mom's new mascara or lipstick always seemed be the perfect hue.
I recall once I was getting ready for school. After "twirling" my hair (to normal people, this means using a curling iron), I put the hot iron down, not noticing mom's lipstick was close. I didn't use the lipstick then, but it was there, and i wasn't looking or caring. Nor did I unplug the curling iron before i raced out of the house to catch the bus - always at the last possible moment.
Mom later discovered my careless mistake. I didn't just ruin her lipstick. That would be bad enough. I ruined her MAC lipstick. This was something she had recently bought as a treat to herself - a rarity when your single mom of 3 girls on a narrow budget. And of course, she noticed it while she was getting herself ready for work. I can imagine it was not a great way to start her day. I didn't find out about it until she got home from work. I had a pretty good day...up to then. Needless to say, i laid on my tummy that night doing my homework thinking how mean my mom was while suffering the agony of pre-algebra.
I wish I could claim this one time was a lesson learned.
"Thick".... how many of us know this word for it's alternative meaning?
By:
kellysimon
Age:
22-25
,
Female
