The sentence you didn’t want to hear in my house as a child was “John, give me the belt.”
Some other classics were:
After I had spilled my milk all over the floor: “I just cleaned this floor.”
I hated my mother’s lumpy mash potatoes and wouldn’t eat them: “You are going to eat them if they’re ice cold.”
In retrospect, my parents were pretty damn awesome but that was not always my sentiment between birth and age 18. Dad was gone quite a bit due to Air Force commitments so mom was the major disciplinarian. She had a knack for using whatever was handy to whack you with and she had deadly aim if she could not reach you and had to throw something at you. Pots, pans, silverware, hairbrush, her hand, belt, rope, suspenders, Hot Wheels track, you name it……..I’ve been hit with it. The worst thing though was her wooden paddle complete with holes drilled in it and splinters. When she broke out the paddle it was bad news.
What really sucked was when dad came home from his months long trips. The first day or so was cool but after mom and dad had a chance to be alone she would inevitably give him the rundown of all the shit we did (and had already been punished for) while he was away and he’d line us up and give us a few whacks with the belt.
We were obstinate little shits though and now agree that we pretty much deserved it because we always knew ahead of time that punishment was coming if we stepped out of line. Basically we weighed the “fun factor” against the “is it worth it factor” and “fun” scored quite a few more victories than prudence. I’d do it all over again in a minute!
In my house dad used a 1″ wide leather strap, mom caught me once across Laketon Ave with a buddy fucking around in the cemetery and used a small tree branch as a switch on the both of us, and back in those days my buddy’s mom thanked my mom for whipping her son.
Today I would have been taken away by protective services and the neighbor would have sued my parents.
But you know I felt the strap twice and had the switch once, so I listened when they spoke. I still messed around and did stuff I wasn’t supposed to, but I was smarter, I thought about my actions first and how to get away with shit but I understood the line.
Today they take kids away and tell them they don’t have to listen, then they give them free shit and let them loose on the world where all they do is ignore society morals and demand more free shit, they become mindless drains on the rest of us.
Fucking liberal progressive assholes wreak everything.
a nation of stupid in dire need of a good belt(ing)
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I just sent a copy of this to Jenni White, the president of ROPE here in Oklahoma and one of the Common Core Four, the team of angry parents who forced the OK Governor Fallin to repeal Common Core (though the battle is won, the war continues…) She is on a speaking tour to other states that have invited her to talk to them about fighting Common Core standards. I admire her greatly.
Am still heading for the hills.
By the way, we lived on a farm with several peach trees in the garden nearby. Dad wore overalls; no belt. Mom’s line was “You go get me a switch and it better be a GOOD one.”
Admin
If only I was there to save you from your mom’s lumpy mashed potatoes. Whenever I make mashed potatoes I always make a LOT extra so I can have these the next day. mmmmm-mmm good.
Fried Mashed Potatoes
2 cups cold mashed potatoes
1 egg, lightly beaten
3/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1/2 cup chopped green onions
1/4 cup real bacon bits
1/2 cup dry bread crumbs
olive oil
1—— Refrigerate mashed potatoes overnight.
2—— Stir in the egg, cheese, onions and bacon bits.
3—— Shape into 1-in. balls; roll in bread crumbs. Let stand for 15 minutes.
4—— Put about 2 inches of olive oil in pot (just enough to cover the balls). Heat to 365 degrees. Fry potato balls, a few at a time about 3 minutes (or until golden brown.)
5—— Remove with a slotted spoon to paper towels to drain. Eat!
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I will be trying Fried Mashed Potatoes soon.
Cosby had a routine called The Belt in the 60’s. The gist was that their dad threatened the belt but never had to actually use it. “The Belt” grew to become a legend in the minds of Bill and his brother Russell. “The belt was nine feet long, eight feet wide…and had hooks to rip the meat off of your body”.
I am going for the ‘Stucky’s Fried Mashed potatoes’.
“I hated my mother’s lumpy mash potatoes and wouldn’t eat them: “You are going to eat them if their ice cold.””
That didn’t work on me. Beat me black and blue or play the waiting game, I could teach the stones lessons in stubborness.
The response I normally got when I mentioned I didn’t like something “finish all the food on your plate before you can have seconds. Don’t like it, then go hungry.”
I went hungry pretty often, there is no worse food than green beans or peas “fresh” out of a can where they have been marinating in their own veggie water for the last several years.
I was lucky enough to have a dog that liked all food. I’d wait until my mom wasn’t looking and grab a handful and hold it under the table while the dog ate it.
My mom use to say I bet you wish I would hit you like other parents. Instead she gave you a project to do and she would always say, “Come see me when you think you are finished”. You were never finished, believe me. She wanted you to think about how you screwed up and what better way to do that than have you picking weeds in a garden.
I got a couple really good belt beats growing up.For a while I played with matches until the day I sit the neighbors field on fire which set his trees on fire which almost set his house on fire.I’m glad dad beat the hell out of me.Never again did I play with matches. I was 6 years old then and I’m 53 now. So you can say I learned my lesson.
Mom was the real disciplinarian in the house, as opposed to my father, who would hit at random when something annoyed him- like a kid walking between him and the teevee set while he lay on the sofa eating cold leftovers, watching the game- but who would ignore the most egregious offenses otherwise.
Mom scarcely ever hit us, but when she did, you damn well knew you had it coming. It was saved for the most heinous crimes, and for lesser offenses, she withdrew privileges, or “grounded” you, or assigned disgusting chores, such as defrosting the fridge or cleaning the oven, heavy chores she usually did herself.
Chores as such were not punishments- they were expected as part of life. We had to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen thoroughly on a daily basis, do the laundry (taking turns), and clean our rooms at least once a week. We were responsible for doing our own ironing and putting our school lunches together under her supervision.
Bad grades resulted in elimination of after-school socializing and extra study hours.. and, when we were teens, revocation of car privileges. Give me your driver’s license, please, she’d say, and lock it up in her locked filing cabinet.
You ate what was served, or you did not eat, period. We were tightly budgeted, and Mom would write out the daily menus for the following week, noting what stuff was on sale or in season, in order to stay within our food budget. None of the crap so prevalent in other houses in our neighborhood, where the stay-at-home mom would cook each member of the family a meal made to order, like the neighborhood diner.
^^
What Chicago said. I think my parents were pretty reasonable about food issues. The rule was we had to TRY new things, but they didn’t force-feed us things we hated. Sometimes there would be something I didn’t initially like, but six months later would find I liked it after all. I think that’s just the way kids are. Their rules about being part of the “clean plate club” were that we should take small portions, eat what we took, and then get seconds later if we were still hungry. Again, that’s just something kids have to figure out, how to not have eyes bigger than their stomachs.
Fast-forward twenty years and I’m working at an accounting job where my co-worker is complaining that her kids “will only eat tater tots and fish sticks.” Her kids were 2 and 4 years old. Kids that little are “telling” their mom what they “will” or “will not” eat? Hell, they’re still small – just stand on ’em.
A friend of mine tells stories about how her mom makes a big dinner at Thanksgiving time and invites all the grown kids. Friend’s sister stops at McDonald’s ON THE WAY TO THANKSGIVING DINNER to get Happy Meals and chicken nuggets for her kids because “that’s all they will eat.” These future fatasses are passing up roast turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, and all those other forms of heavenly holiday goodness … for fast food. I’ll bet they will be fun to date someday, when they grow up.
There are some really inept parents out there, but I do my best and try to tell them not to have kids.
My mom would give me a knife and tell me to go outside and cut a willow switch and bring it back in so she could beat me with it. I knew if I brought back a puny one she would get pissed and go out and get the thickest branch of the bunch and give it to me twice as hard. After the first time of that all she had to say is “if you don’t straighten up your going to go out and cut a willow switch” and it plumbed things up straight away.
Made it through my whole childhood without any pharmaceuticals or psychiatrists too.
My brother and I faced double jeopardy in the form of mom, then dad when he got home. We got The Belt, ear-pulling, soap eating, spanking, and one notable time, a slug to the gut for kicking my brother in the nuts. As a kid, I was certain by the time I was an adult, I would be deaf from the ear pulling. That was his compliance maneuver when we were in public-there was no way out of it.
Not that I feel abused-my brother and I were awful kids!
Lucky for me, my dad didn’t give a shit about schooling. Like Chi Town’s dad, his punishments were random. My mom took to keeping a thick stick handy but after tasting the fire on my back, I decided there was safety in flight. Lucky for me, she would get over her anger, unlike my buddy Scott’s mom who chased him outdoors and when he climbed up a tree, she said, I will be here all night until you come down.
As for schooling, my mom thought the great outdoors was a boy’s best school and we were always outside wandering about the town. I never studied, I hated homework but I always made A’s in class. I could come up with a couple of reasons but the one I like best is my mom packed me a couple of burritos for lunch and a mayo jar filled with coffee. I was always wide awake while all the other kids were slumping in their chairs.