I got straight out beaten with anything my dad could hit me with. I have siblings and one thing that immediately stopped fighting was, he didn't care who started the fracas, no fingerpointing and blaming, no reasons, none of that.
Depending on the severity of infractions, you had a formula for lashes in the rear. I vaguely remember but it was something like:
5 lashes minimum - usually small stuff, like make my sister cry, or sister make me cry :lol:
10 lashes - delivering physical hurt to any of my siblings (pinches, throwing toys to their faces), and breaking things that aren't mine
15 lashes - making a commotion so loud that the neighbors hear it
20 lashes - getting into a fistfight and coming home
bloodied. Unless he sees me coming home with the other kid and that kid had it worse - aka, "You should see the other guy" except he had to see it for himself. (lived in a pretty tight knit community when I was young, everyone knew everyone and was
generally friends with everyone. An example is, if someone in the block had a birthday or what not, we could close off the streets in a 3 block radius (probably 500 meters around) and no one would complain, coz everyone is invited. Used to have fist fights with my childhood friends for minor disagreements. We settled right after and are back to being friends, even with black eyes tomorrow. It's kind of the culture here.
And I always got the business end of the belt (metal buckle) as I was the eldest, and a male.
When I turned 10 I graduated to 2-3 hits on the shin with a very heavy cane. I still have that cane to this day
I got hit maybe just twice. Remember how Anderson Silva lost his last fight to Chris Weidman? I imagined the times I got hit when I watched that fight.
He once threw a brand new family computer out the 2nd floor of the house because I wouldn't get off it. He just asked me once to go to sleep, then the second time was, he just went out, yanked the thing, threw it out the window. I remember the monitor dangled for a bit (inside the house) before the VGA port finally broke and the whole CPU mouse and keyboard went out. He took the monitor that got left inside and chucked it out for good measure. The smart#ss rebellious little sh#t in me had the audacity to snigger a "It's your money you threw out the window, not mine" when he was going back to the room. Man, my old man snapped, got this baton, hit me once on each shin, and it had this big ass lump. I could barely walk, and I felt like my leg would just crack every time I went out of bed. Didn't go to school for a week because of that (there wasn't any fracture though, because I know what a fracture feels like)
I said he "once" threw a computer out, because the 2nd time he attempted to do it (because of my little brother) - I was man enough, and large enough to physically restrain him, and talk him out of it.
Second time was I was young and stupid and experimenting with alcohol and did not understand what fine whiskey was. Had friends over when they were out of town, drank his shelf Black Label, and opened 2 bottles of Blue Label - which me and the friends promptly vomited onto the pavement after a couple of hours. I would do the same if I were him lol.
I got punched in the face more times than I could count, but I was a real #sshole back then. Who pours a pitcher of water on your siblings with guests over? I'm just thankful that he waited til the guests left before meting out punishment.
As for my mom, I remember the last time she hit me. I was answering back because I didn't want to have an afternoon nap and just wanted to play. I answered in a scream. I got hit with a belt. In the face. Tore my face up, blood everywhere. Mom couldn't take me to the hospital for stitches, and to this day I don't want to ask her why, nor do I want to know the answer. I carry a scar that flares up when I get angry and makes me look like a thug (it looks like a knife slash actually.) It healed pretty much with age but is still there.
Every single time I got hit, a day or two after, I would get the question of "What did you do wrong?" - and I would have to explain myself. In the process, looking back to it, I realized that you had to mete out punishment to little sh#ts and snap the devils' horns when they grew too long. I would not change anything from then as they all made me who I am now. Out of all my siblings, I am the one closest to my mom and dad, and I love them to bits.
My wife and I disagree over discipline - she has hitting totally off the books, her father or mother never once laid hands on her. For now I have agreed, and who knows, maybe my son grows up to be the outstanding citizen and a good old fashioned beating may never be required - but it's always on the table if need be. Like I said, I have a cane which is big, heavy, and older than I am, ready to hit shins and kick #ss