When I really screwed up
Dad was a handy man with a razor strop, or a belt. Mom, well, she was good with a wooden spoon or any other of a number of kitchen implements- when nylon bowl scrapers came along, I cursed DuPont.
Gramma, on the other hand… Gramma would use whatever she could reach. And now let’s be clear; never in my life did I ever get a non-well deserved asswhipping, and I escaped more than a few that I did deserve- but Gramma was creative and opportunistic.
There were, among other things
Rolled up towels
couch cushions(You can’t imagine that you could do much damage with that, could you? She could)
magazines
antimicassars
dogs (Yes, one time she hit me with the dog. Don’t ask)
encyclopedia
bottles (plastic, thankfully)
telephones
wrenches
toys
clothes
toilet brush (Thankfully, never the plunger)
hair nets(Sting! I’ma tell you!)
enema hose
Enema BAG
a radio
etc. You get the point. If I was being a little shit, she would disavow me of the action. To be fair, she always grabbed and hugged me afterwards and told me not to be a little jerk. Gramma lived with us for many years, and died in our house. She was stunningly beautiful when she was 20, my mom still has a picture. When I knew her she was an old squarehead kraut. But I loved her.
The enema bag thing will stay with me a while.
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I had no idea there was a term for that. I haven’t seen them in quite a while, either. We had one on dad’s recliner. Thank you for the vocabulary enhancement!
My grandmother was 65 when I was born. The pictures I’ve seen when she was younger are kinda scary. She was unprepossessing.
I remember telling Mom she couldn’t whip me anymore cause i was bigger and stronger than her when I was 16. She said that I was right and she didn’t have to feed me for the same reason and to get out of her sight. I woke up that night around midnight; just after Dad got home from work, to the worst beating I’ve ever had. Dad explained how him and Mom were a team and each were involved in raising me and maybe Mom couldn’t whip me if I chouse to resist her but it would be a while till he couldn’t and that even then I’d have to sleep sometime. Dad died several years ago and Mom is pretty much confined to a wheelchair but if she were to tell me to get a switch I would and would take my punishment without complaint for fear of what Dad might do to me when I died and met him in heaven.
I made the same mistake as Mr. Grisham with the same results. My dad mentioned he didn’t even get his work boots off before he was informed of bad behavior. He was not amused.
Some of us learn the painful way.
Amen, Brethren!
My Grandmother had a fondness of brooms.
Dupont also made brooms.
Plastic doesn’t break.
When I was 16, my mother was smaller than me. One of my friends laughed his ass off over the time I mouthed off and my mother chased me around the house with her shoe in one hand. In my defense, being hit by that shoe hurt.
…as for the enema bag thing, that’d scar a man for life. No wonder it’s stuck with you.
It was your full name with my mom’s mom.
If she spit out your full name you needed to be front and center tout sweet.
I sorely miss those days.
My Gramma was making bread and I grabbed a pinch of raw dough out of the pan. She reached over and whacked me with a butcher knife. I saw blood and nearly fainted. I knew for sure I was at least maimed. she had gotten me across the backs of my fingers with the spine of that knife, drawing blood from all four fingers. Then she told me to ask if I wanted some bread dough.
Kinda put me off raw bread dough for oh, about fifty years now.
My Mom was a grade school teacher, started in the 50’s. She had professional ass whipping tools. Really, she owned a shop built ass paddle. There were times I prayed for my father to come home early to save me from her.
I beat mine until I fear DHR sometimes but they don’t seem to be learning.
Most recently the eldest snuck a video game into his room when he was supposed to be banned from it. I haven’t quite figured out what all to do about that one.
Obviously the game is confiscated but there needs to be something more.
I’m old enough to remember when the Principal of my elementary school had a paddle, if you misbehaved the next morning you were on the stage during morning Assembly, assuming the position and getting your ass paddled. Never experienced it myself, but I’d imagine the pain was bad, the humiliation of getting paddled in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL was worse, and of course your parents were informed that you’d be paddled the next morning so they had something to, er, say too.
Deeply psychological too, you did something wrong, you knew the punishment would be the next morning, gave you all night to think on it.
Scott: my daughter never reacted to asswhippings. Your job as a parent is to find the place to apply pressure. In her case it was our disapproval that stung her hardest. And every child is different.
Scott J – perhaps some inspiration:
https://youtu.be/EglOsfErtaE
It’s got some naughty language in it, so don’t watch it with the sound up if the kids are around.
Hot Wheels Track
Oh, Rey, you are so right on.
The Stick and The Lecture.
My cousins had to cut their own switches with the usual results for inadequate choices.
My gran on Mom’s side was an Aussie Scot… what a combo, she could give us a good wallop with a fly swatter and curse in perfect Crocodile Dundee… she loved her glass of beer shandy as well every evening… she would let us take a sip or two… ;-)
Rey beat me to it, damm that track whistled.