Parental myths

MrsE88

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Haha, yes. A quick punishment even if it’s physical was a lot easier to deal with. Silence and staring would be torture!
 

TwoHedWlf

Potamotrygon
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Mar 2, 2017
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Its funny because what stands out to me the most was one time i was expecting a good smack down when my old man got home from work only to have him sit across from me and do nothing but stare at me. It felt like 12 hrs....pure torture... cmon man get it over with already
 

deeda

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Mar 26, 2008
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My mom used to use a wooden spoon to spank my brothers and I when we were misbehaving pre-teens.

My grandmother used to tell me that if I sat on the concrete steps of our porch or on the driveway that I would get piles when I got old. She lied since I still don't have them.

Oh and of course that we shouldn't eat any watermelon seeds because a tree will grow in our tummies. I guess she figured we didn't know that watermelons don't grow on trees.:ROFL:
 

esoxlucius

Alligator Gar
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Dec 30, 2015
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My mum and dad weren't too bad, it was the french teacher at school who used to get me. If there was such a sport as chalkboard duster throwing then this guy would have several gold medals around his neck. Most of the time i'd be chatting away and all of a sudden...SMACK! Right on my head. He missed me once, I watched it sail past and it slammed against the back wall of the classroom in a puff of chalk dust. I just began to turn round to give him a snigger and...WALLOP! He'd only gone and took his apple from his lunch bag and launched it at me. Right in between my eyes.
 
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Warborg

Goliath Tigerfish
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Sep 2, 2009
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My mother was the punisher. My dad was laid back. She only used her hands but that was enough. The worst time was when we were in the car. She turned around and said when we get home, she was spanking my butt. The torture of thinking of that.


Lol, tough love. Looking back, I wouldn't change anything.
Best way to raise a kid(I thanked my mom for it) later.

I could never do the stare. I'd crack a smile the first time she(my daughter) acted up(humorous ). Teal'c was good
 

Yaponchik

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Jan 26, 2019
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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 :nilly: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 :headbang2
 
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Coryloach

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Apr 22, 2015
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My mother and father never touched us. They were too busy fighting themselves.
One night my sister and I walked out during the night while our parents were fighting. We did it as a sign of rebellion. We thought they'd see we're gone and would stop. A few hours later, freezing cold, we come back and they're still at it....shouting about who's done most in the house, who's paid more bills, who's gonna die first because the other one's playing on their nerves to death, etc...

If we did something bad, my mother would shout so loud in this high pitched voice that it would make my heart jump. Even the cat took notice, lol.

My father died in my teenage years in a car crash. He was a really sweet person and I got my love for animals from him. He was always calm in his approach and he had this unique way of convincing us through talk and reasoning.

For example, when I was little I had the habit of sitting down on a big stone in the garden they had there for unknown to anyone purposes. So I used it a stool and just sat there watching birds chirping around me...
Then I'd hear my mother scream her head of off from the kitchen telling me to get up or I'd get a cold sitting on that stone. The entire neighborhood probably got up from their chairs upon hearing that...But I was naughty, I'd keep sitting, now even more determined than ever...
Then my father arrives(still sitting on the stone out of spite) and starts telling me that story about a kid that sat on a stone without knowing it was the home of a venomous snake that bite him in the ass :) and he died. Guess what....I immediately got up upon hearing the end of it and never sat down on that stone again :grinno:
 
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