Butt Whuppins

When I was growing up my parents disciplined us by spanking. If you misbehaved at a friends house, you usually got a spanking there and another one when you got home. You crossed the line at school; you got a paddling, there and at home. Grandma’s house, she would make you get a switch to tear your legs up with. Don’t bring back a little one either or she would go out and bring back the whole tree.

Did you ever get a whipping with a piece of Hot Wheels track? I still can’t look at a length of orange Hot Wheels track without hearing the sound it made when being swung at your backside. The track would get warped after mom used it for a belt and it never would lay flat again after that.

My mom dealt out all the beatings at our house. I never remember my dad whipping me. Sometime when I was around 7 or 8 he ended up making a leather strap for my mom that had 6 perfectly spaced holes drilled into the end. He didn’t whip us but he did provide the tools and she put them to good use.

I don’t remember there ever being one special place where she kept the “belt” as it came to be known, but I do know when left unattended it would somehow come up missing. Its disappearance was always blamed on one of the two invisible children that lived with us; Idontknow and Notme.

If mom left it on the arm of the sofa and you were stealthy enough, you could hide it underneath the sofa. You had to be quick though. It was a two step process. Knock off arm onto floor, use toe of shoe to slide under sofa. Never a good idea to linger too long in the vicinity. You didn’t want to chance getting caught or being the first person to come to mind when the belt was finally unearthed.

I remember my mom always had the belt within easy reach. You’re probably saying, “Y’all were one bunch of rotten kids!” Actually, we were pretty well behaved. You get smacked by that thing a few good times and you did your level best to make sure there was not going to be a repeat performance!

The belt was not quite three feet long but I swear it could reach to the very back of a station wagon from the front seat. Mom took it with us on vacation, trips to the grocery store, any trip in the car that was longer than 5 miles one way, that belt was going.  No counting to three at our house, unless she was counting the number of swings she was taking. There were no time outs given unless we had to take time out to unearth the belt so we could get our butt whuppin’.

As a result of this corporal punishment do I suffer from low self esteem? Certainly NOT. If anything, the whippings I received as a child helped make me who I am today. Some might even say I didn’t get enough of ‘em……..