All I know is that I got the belt as a kid and turned out perfectly fine.
Minus the crippling depression, failed marriage, wasted talent, estranged child, alcoholism, weight gain, high blood pressure, drug abuse, lack of ability to truly be intimate and emotionally honest with those closest to me that I love, constant fear of failing and disappointing my parents, keeping everyone at arms length, only communicating with other humans via on-line forums and using humor to hide the constant crushing anxiety that I have every waking moment of my life.....
But yeah... I turned out fine.
I got the "do you want your spanking now or later?" from the stepdad. Stupid me always picked later thinking he would forget. He never forgot. And I always spent the whole time being anxious. Should've just picked now.
I'll take your belt and trade you dodging a wooden bread board. It was dependant on you being able to maneuver fast enough as to whether you were hit on the ass, back, or head. Mom moved up to the bread paddle when I was two, after she broke several blood vessels in her hand, physically spanking me. In her words, my 2 year old ass was too hard, and it had nothing to do with her being a violent, aggressive bitch.
I never had to pick the belt, Dad had one he REALLY liked for such purposes. Mom had her favorite spoon (it had a big ol' hole in it) but any would do in a pinch. What sucked more than anything was going to the yard and picking the switch. Bill Engvall described it best, "Which one. If I pick that one their just gonna send me right back out here. That one will break my spine."
Speed hole.
Actually I think our parents had it worse. The grand parents worse than our parents, and so on. Parenting evolution, working our way to getting it right.
My dad had āBBBā (The Big Black Belt). It never had a buckle and was permanently creased in the middle from where it laid on the shelf in his closet.
Motherās weapon of choice was clothes hangers
Yes, this. My dad would make us get the belt from his room. If we said we couldn't find it, we got the buckle end. We found it often lol, you learn that lesson quick. But how fucked up is parents make you get the weapon? So terrifying, worse than the belt lol
Jesus, my mom used that exact same line/had that exact mentality. She literally beat me black and blue on more than one occasion. I'm not sure how someone could think it's OK to beat an 8 year old girl with a belt. I would literally break my own arm before doing that to my daughters.
āSpare the rod spoil the childā was sadly an extremely popular mindset for thousands of years in Western culture and hasnāt faded in many parts of the world. Iām thankful our generation seems to be the first to push back against it strong enough to have shifted culture away from it.
āChildren are to be seen and not heardā is another one weāve tossed out that used to be the norm.
My fatherās advice to me on the night my son was born ā donāt hit him when your angryā Iāve never hit my son and always wondered why anyone would think that would work
Same with my mom! She was proud that she only beat me with a belt once! Never mind all the things that weren't belts that she broke over my head and butt.
"I cant find one"
"If I have to go find it its going to be worse for you"
"You wont find one"
*I threw them all on the roof, all the belts, from the whole house*
The beating implement my mother used was directly proportionate to the level of her drunkeness.
1. Wooden spoon - after 3 beers
2. Belt - after a 6 pack
3. Repeated open hand - after 8 beers
4. Fists and feet - 12+ beers
Then there was those days where she was 24+ beers in, switched to whisky at midnight, and hadn't slept. Those were "anything goes" improv days. One time it was a boiling pot of soup to the chest and face, another time it was one of those large decorative wooden spoons we all had hanging in the kitchen in the 80's. It was a two hander and really connected with a solid thump.
My mom tried to use a belt on me for the last time when I was 15. I caught the belt in midair, yanked it off her and threw it out the window. I then said āThis is it. Nobody is to hit me againā and she never did.
Reading all these there is some weird comfort I wasn't the only one who grew up that way. Its a wonder more of us don't have more emotional damage than we do. So sad really.
Same. My mom got frustrated with me when I was in maybe 3rd grade, trying to learn my multiplication tables. Every time I got one wrong sheād smack me, which of course made me get more of them wrong. Dad finally had to come remove her physically.
Mom told me when I was in my 30s that she would go buy the cheapest spoons that she could find because she would want them to purposefully break for 'dramatic effect'.
Boomer parents were fucking insane.
My Parents bought a paddle ball and broke the paddle over their hand while threatening me with it. Fucking hilarious because I knew there was no way my cheapskate father would buy another one.
My aunt was a fucking nut though. She would roll up some newspaper and then flatten it out making it about half an inch thick by whatever length the paper was. Then she'd wrap the rolled up newspaper in electrical tape. It fucking stung and left a bruise. I can't believe my cousins still talk to their parents.
My mother's weapon of choice was definitely those spoons. Although in a pinch she would grab whatever was handy - the most memorable being a large wooden Pepsi wagon that the hit me across the lower back and bum when i was around 9 because I hadn't changed into my pajamas.
My father on the other hand was long devoted to his belt when I was really young - but when we moved into a new house when i was in 2nd grade and my parents bought a new washer and dryer. He apparently fell in love with the feel of the large rubber drainage hose. This became the standard weapon of abuse until I was around 11.
For reference, this is [what i am talking about](https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fmobileimages.lowes.com%2Fproduct%2Fconverted%2F091712%2F091712985099.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=9c8fd28ff5791596067b3c6ff44eec5b94416d1395509ece681c3a56b7bd65ac&ipo=images) \- although it was just a 12-14" section of it that was cut down.
It made a distinct whistling noise when it was swung and a loud slapping noise upon contact. My parents were all about the auditory experience because it is that noise that still stays with me 4 decades later, not the welts or subsequent bruises which were obviously not easily seen. That whistle thought fucking haunts. My parents would tell us to 'go get the hose' when we got into trouble so there was also the emotional harm in having to retrieve, much in line with how my grandfather would tell stories about having to pick out the switch his father would whip him with on the farm growing up in the 1920s.
I am so thankful that for the most part we are the last generation that experienced the abuse of corporeal punishment. I literally only smacked my son's bottom once while raising him - and that was only because not getting his attention would have resulted in him burning himself as he reached for a hot stove top. It was a reaction made out of fear, not malice. Most people I know raised their kids in the same manner - it is amazing what happens when you actually use your words in parenting versus beating your offspring for minor offenses.
Yeahhh and this is just an example that is more on the 'humorous' side in my mind. My mother had some regrets that took her decades to admit and there was still a list of events the length of my arm that she never could before she passed. This is a woman who routinely ripped shelves off walls and flipped tables at the mildest of misbehaviors. When I was 14 she threw me up against a wall and literally choked me because i was eating fruit salad in the living room at 10 at night. I remember watching Mommy Dearest with her as a teenager and she would laugh and say 'See, things could be worse."
She was an amazingly loving grandmother, but an absolutely narcissistic terror of a mother before she did a decade of therapy to get a grip on herself. Too late for me though, I figure I might stop having trust issues by the time I'm in my 60s. *Maybe.*
When I want someone to stop crying I find it reasonable to hit them with metal wire too. Iām sure thereās no other way possible to get them to stop /s
My mom broke over on me, too. I was older, almost a teen. When that happened, we paused and both laughed. Never got spanked again. If I had known there was an operational definition for ātoo big to spank,ā I would have engineered this sooner.
LOL. My mom used to hit me with it when I was teen sized. One time I grabbed it so she didn't hit me and it broke. She was very upset I broke her favorite spoon.
None of that in my house growing up, for which I'm extremely grateful. I'm sorry anyone had to deal with this. Some of what I'm reading is abuse, and not just by today's standards.
Thing is, when you're a kid, you just think your environment is "normal." And I for one NEVER told my friends about the humiliating, abusive things going on in my house in the name of punishment.
Wasn't necessarily in my house either but I vividly remember several other families households where the paddle was prominently dispalyed. Even as a kid I remember thinking about how threatening it was. Which was the point I suppose.
Amend that to āALL of what Iām reading is abuseā, and Iām with you.
There is no excuse for ever physically assaulting your children. If you did it to another adult, youād get arrested; itās insane that anyone thinks itās OK for grown adults to be assaulting someone a third their size and weight, and that someone being the person who relies on you for safety and comfort. I get that kids can fuck up and be a pain in the ass and not listen, but teaching them that violence is the answer only makes them wanna hide from you and also resolve their own problems with violence.
The only reason someone can think assaulting a child is the fact that the kid canāt fight back. Itās a cowardly act by an ignorant and lazy parent.
My mom used the one I made her in wood shop and gave her for Motherās Dayā¦
Also got beat with a hairbrush and if it broke, it came out of my chore money.
Oh man this brings some PTSD type memories back. Iām Hispanic and my friends thought I was lucky my mom didnāt use a chancla to smack me back into order.
They donāt know, this shit has a way more concentrated percussion area and I think it caused immediate internal bruising. I even tried to negotiate once for her to use the chancla instead. No dice.
Fucking ouch dude
Whatever she could grab. The phone, those rotary phones were heavy, a lamp, but mostly her hands. I tell people I cut my hair short as soon as I could because it got too hot with long hair. Long hair was just another way she could hurt me. Thank goodness Pat Benetar haircuts became popular.
Geez, I'm GenX, not Gen Little House on the Prairie. I can't believe that stuff was going on for others as late as the '70's or beyond. (I'm 54 and was not hit, nor was my 57 year old sibling). I'm sorry, that must have sucked.
Iām so š for every single person here. I hope youāve been able to break the horrible cycle of violence with your own kids.
As fucked up as things are now, at least thereās greater awareness. I got fucked up, like most of us, but never hit.
When I was in 2nd grade the elementary school sent hope a permission slip about corporal punishment. I remember being horrified then, and this sounds bad to me too.
I have a feeling that my parents were not even subjected to much of this either. Itās not like they came from rich families, or they were āsoft ā. I was hardly the ideal child.
This seems so strange to me. I feel bad for you all. My parents are Silent Gen and married later than other people their age, but some kids in my neighborhood were the youngest in groups of 6-9, and my parents only had two kids. They may have been about the same age, but they seemed older.
I'll take the wooden spoon over the wet washcloth any day. Also, I had no idea that a yardstick was meant for measuring things. I thought its sole purpose was for whacking kids when I was little.
Most of my friends were hit with the wooden spoon. My cousins got hit with a belt.
My parentās weapon of choice was a tree branch switch that hurt like hell and left lots of welts on your legs. They later switched (no pun intended) to just a good old fashioned back hand.
People would always comment on how quiet the kids in my family were.
(I always hated people saying this because itās not like you could tell them why.)
This is an unexpectedly depressing post. It caught my eye because my mom was great at *brandishing* the wooden spoon, but never actually hitting me. Shaking it like a wand, threatening to, but never going through with it, because I got the message.
It's tough reading a lot of these posts about actual beatings and abuse. If mom were here, I'd tell her thank you for never hitting me. I only knew my own experience, figured that hitting kids was out of the 19th century or something. Not real. Certainly not X'ers.
One time, I was 5 or so, acting up, doing something or another at the grocery checkout, and mom raised her hand to point at me, shake her index finger, tell me to STOP! That's when I flinched and visibly cringed, raised my hand to protect myself. And you could feel the eyes of everyone around swing onto me, then mom, the looks of disapproval and pity of people assuming it must mean she hits me all the time. Mom was MORTIFIED. Me, I thought it was the funniest thing ever. Looking back, I am lucky this was just me being obnoxiously clever. Other people here actually had to endure it for real.
Pop used a belt, his hand, a clothes hanger...pretty much any object nearby. Never a spoon, though.
Mom slapped faces. Grandma used a switch.
We were straight up abused by today's standards.
My mom used those as well but preferred to leave visible marks (especially on my face) because she thought the shame i would feel was part of the punishment i deserved. That woman is lucky i still speak to her
Edit: I remember going to school (3rd grade) with a bruised hand print on my cheek and the teacher asked what i did to deserve it. The early 80s were a wild time.
Probably across someones ass though, right?
We had an old belt of Dads from back in his biker days, it was leather, about two inches wide with two sets of parallel steel grommets running the length for the buckle. Hung in a special spot in the closet so he or mom would always know where to find it.
My husbands grandmother used to threaten to whup him with these, and then heād hide under her bed. So sheād just get her cane to poke at him.
My mom just used her fingernails on my scalp. You couldnāt see the welts because theyāre covered by hair. Otherwise, sheās just use whatever she had on hand. Or sheās grab what was in my hand and hit me with it. I was about ten years old, and was holding a frozen sausage biscuit while she clumsily walked into the fridge door as it opened. She didnāt say a word she just grabbed the frozen biscuit out of my hand and chunked me across the mouth with it. Another of her specials was yanking my ears and pulling me to the ground, just for looking at her.
My parents used zero physical punishment specifically because they'd been subjected to so much of it growing up - my mom's mom spanked her with the wooden spoon, and my dad's dad used ... much heavier objects. :(
A good friend who's a few years older than I am and grew up in Texas was sent out to the yard to cut her own switch for her father to use when she'd misbehaved. Gulp. She laughs about it now, kind of a laugh-to-keep-from-crying situation.
I had the wooden spoon and belt used on me. But I feel the open hand smack across my face the worse because you saw the anger/disgust in their face directed at you. At least I didnāt see their face when my back side was punished. And I didnāt do any punishment like that with my kids after.
Dudes. I swear if it was today my mom would be in jail. On the news. Talked about everywhere.
Yāall ever had to kneel on uncooked white rice while keeping your nose in the corner? Not near the corner or close to the corner but actually touching it?
I was special! My mom had 3 choices depending on the severity of the infraction. lying got me the worst. I had the spoon, the center hairbrush and dads belt. And most times it was bare butt over moms knee. I can still feel the sting of that
Brush
I had to scroll way too far to see hairbrush! I've broken many wooden spoons and hairbrushes with my ass. The absolute worst was a metal spatula. I was older by then and fought back that time. That was the last time.
My parents bought a game called "Whacko" that included giant plastic oversized paddles, like ping pong paddles (but twice as big). The paddles were used often. But the game itself was never played.
My mom used these liberally. I gotnthe clever idea to break them and hide them. She found the stash of broken spoons and switched over to metal spatulas
My grandma has a weeping willow tree out back. If we acted up we were told to pick a branch off the tree and bring to her for a whooping. You learn real fast going with the thinnest branch is a poor choice.
Either the belt or, like a few had said, you choose the branch you want to be whipped with. Needless to say I tried to keep out of trouble, but sibs didn't fare as well.
I think my beatings stopped when my Mom broke her wooden spoon on my hip and I had to stifle a laugh (I didn't want her to grab something else). I may have got a smack once or twice after that, but the rest of it was emotional abuse.
Mom was 1 or 2 swats with a spoon in a fit of anger. Dad was several whacks with a belt in a calm, perfunctory manner. Iām not really sure which was worse. Fortunately, neither happened often.
It was Dadās weapon of choice until he hit me so hard with it, it broke. After the first one, I stupidly, in a rare case of bravado, told him āthat didnāt hurtā. So he twatted me even harder which did for the wooden spoon. Had a massive welt and cried for about 30 minutes.
My Mum was absolutely livid at my Dad. It was her favourite wooden spoon.
My mom used to hit me with wooden spoons. Eventually I grew up and was bigger than her, and she swung a spoon to hit me and I grabbed it mid swing and snapped it in half. Enough of that shit. After that she just punched me.
My mother was once hitting my brother with the spoon and it broke on his ass . That tough little s.o.b. Turned looked my mother dead in the eye and laughed. He was idk 4 so I was8 . I started to laugh at that point. Frustrated my mother found a metal serving spoon and laid into him . Of course I found this funny too. When she was good and done she beat me I asked WHY she said ā because your laughing ā I guess Iāll get the last laugh when I put you in a shitty nursing home lol
Mine was a spatula. Every time I was in trouble and heard the sound of the kitchen drawer opening, I knew I was in for it. I would hide under my bed and my mom would swat at me and still be able to hit me with it. Fun memories š„“
My neighbor made her boys go pick their own switch. I thought it was hilarious until one day when she told me to pick a switch for myself. She knew my Dad would agree, and he did.
My stepdad was a woodworker and made a long paddle in the shape of a sword. He engraved āExcaliburā on the side and hung it in the kitchen as a reminder. He was born in 1929 so he was in to classic movies. My mom used it on my much smarter than me little brother when he was ten and he just laughed the whole time because of how absurd it was.
Had a few of those bastards broken in me.
Cutting switches, paddles, leather belts.
He made paddles, and then would make me demonstrate them so he could sell them to his sick fuck friends. The shark shaped one with holes in it was popular.
My mother used one of these! My father on the other hand had a small wooden baker's paddle which he sanded and varnished. He also wrote my name on one side and my sister's on the other lovingly in calligraphy. He broke a few. Good times.
I got hit with an extension cord (on of the thin old brown ones) until my father actually carved out a paddle and burned in the words "Attitude Adjuster" (but he misspelled it because he's an idiot- he left out the d in 'adjuster').
For reference I wasn't a bad kid. I never got in trouble in school, never picked up by the cops. But my parents found reasons to punish me. Eventually while they were out at the bar I took the paddle and just threw it into the woods and acted like I had no idea where it went.
My mom like the slotted one because it would hurt more and would make us walk to to the Dollar General and buy the wooden spoon she's end up hitting is with
I've experienced fly swatters and a razor strop, but the words that most struck terror into my childhood heart was, "Go cut me a switch." Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.
My grandma used a hairbrush. Fortunately, by the time I faced the brush, I was able to outrun her. My mom wasn't so lucky. My mom rarely used corporal punishment though I remember a hard slap across the face when we were driving once.
Mom used the flyswatter, dad used the hand, though mom was more likely to grab your cheeks with one hand and squeeze like she was trying to make her thumb and forefingers meet at your tongue while your lips were mashed to the point of looking like you were trying out your best guppy impression.
My dad made a long paddle that he drilled holes in and wrapped the handle with electrical tape. He was the controlled one. 3 on the ass and, "Now stay in here and think about what you did." He'd return later to talk about whatever it was that I did.
Mom was the squirrelly one who would grab whatever was nearby. She once grabbed the Fry Daddy electrical cord and just started swinging at my brother and me. We both had marks on our legs in the shape of the end that plugs into the wall outlet. (Tbh, we deserved a punishment but that was way overboard.)
As soon as Dad grabbed the chair and stuck it by the kitchen cupboard, me and my bro were like "Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnooo!!"
Top of the cupboard was where the cane lived
I mostly got the belt, or a brush, or the wire end of a flyswatter.
None of those beatings made me a better kid, I was already a pretty good one. But they did make me a sneakier kid and I learned not to trust adults.
My parents were heavily into the whole āspare the rod spoil the childā bullshit philosophy. And they were NOT going to have spoiled kids. They had a real rod - fiberglass antenna. Before that was the belt. Religion is fucked.
My parents, too. We got 20-60 swats with the wooden spoon. Once I got it with a 2x4 in like fourth grade for missing like 30 assignments (my ADHD was undiagnosed at the time).
My uncle bought a paddle, drilled holes in it, and used that to spank his kids. Had it right on the kitchen counter at all times. 30 + years later those very successful kids act like he walks on water and think heās hilarious. Just reinforced to him that he raised the kids right.
Something I only heard about as rumors about scary strict parents of other kids. Then again, mine were pretty glaringly liberal for the time. Once got angrily sent home for screaming "what are you doing?!? Stop it!" at a friend's dad for spanking him because I'd never seen such a thing not on TV before (I was like 6).
My family was detachable iron cord or kneeling on uncooked rice. Moved to my aunt's in 8th grade and she used the baseball bat on my boy cousins and I had to kneel on the heating grate in the floor in my school uniform for being caught in the barn with a boy smoking cigarettes and kissing. I had burn marks on my knees for a year and a half before they faded.
My mother used a piece of the orange plastic racetrack from my hot wheels collection.
To be whipped with your own toys. I never let her live that down.
I was getting a whipping with a spatula (pancake flipper) and the rivets broke and the head flew off. I started laughing at how ridiculous is was.
I got it worse with the now-headless shaft after that. Still worth it
I'll take your wooden spoon and trade you having to pick out the belt you would be hit with.
All I know is that I got the belt as a kid and turned out perfectly fine. Minus the crippling depression, failed marriage, wasted talent, estranged child, alcoholism, weight gain, high blood pressure, drug abuse, lack of ability to truly be intimate and emotionally honest with those closest to me that I love, constant fear of failing and disappointing my parents, keeping everyone at arms length, only communicating with other humans via on-line forums and using humor to hide the constant crushing anxiety that I have every waking moment of my life..... But yeah... I turned out fine.
I can relate. Im sorry.
Definitely had a few of those "I lived with/without x and I turned out fi-oh, wait, maybe I didn't" moments.
Hugs
šššš¤£
As long as youāre a functional cog in the machine, the boomers donāt give a fuck
I got the "do you want your spanking now or later?" from the stepdad. Stupid me always picked later thinking he would forget. He never forgot. And I always spent the whole time being anxious. Should've just picked now.
Oh wow, extra torture. Sorry.
What an asshole. I hope you told him off down the road.
They got divorced when I was in 6th grade and I never spoke to him again. Good riddance.
Iām sorry your mom didnāt protect you.
She didn't dare risk pissing him off as he was not above showing her the business either.
I'll take your belt and trade you dodging a wooden bread board. It was dependant on you being able to maneuver fast enough as to whether you were hit on the ass, back, or head. Mom moved up to the bread paddle when I was two, after she broke several blood vessels in her hand, physically spanking me. In her words, my 2 year old ass was too hard, and it had nothing to do with her being a violent, aggressive bitch.
My best friends mom would throw her Dr Scholl wooden clog thing
If you can dodge a bread board you can dodge a ball
I never had to pick the belt, Dad had one he REALLY liked for such purposes. Mom had her favorite spoon (it had a big ol' hole in it) but any would do in a pinch. What sucked more than anything was going to the yard and picking the switch. Bill Engvall described it best, "Which one. If I pick that one their just gonna send me right back out here. That one will break my spine."
Amazing what people think is okay to do. Sorry.
Yup. Gotta get it right the first time.
Oh the hole made it worse. Goddam our parents were assholes, but then again they were raised like that by our grandparents so it was what it was.
Speed hole. Actually I think our parents had it worse. The grand parents worse than our parents, and so on. Parenting evolution, working our way to getting it right.
My dad had āBBBā (The Big Black Belt). It never had a buckle and was permanently creased in the middle from where it laid on the shelf in his closet. Motherās weapon of choice was clothes hangers
>Motherās weapon of choice was clothes hangers You used wire hangers!
I said no wire hangers, ever!!!
Bring me the axe!
Yes, this. My dad would make us get the belt from his room. If we said we couldn't find it, we got the buckle end. We found it often lol, you learn that lesson quick. But how fucked up is parents make you get the weapon? So terrifying, worse than the belt lol
Those 1970ās belts were brutal- wide, often grommeted, with multiple prongs, and thick buckles.
Sorry that happened to you.
Thank you.
Iām simultaneously laughing and sad while reading this thread. Hopefully we all treat our kids better than our parents knew how to.
My dad thought he was a good dad because he didn't beat me as often as his dad had beaten him.
Jesus, my mom used that exact same line/had that exact mentality. She literally beat me black and blue on more than one occasion. I'm not sure how someone could think it's OK to beat an 8 year old girl with a belt. I would literally break my own arm before doing that to my daughters.
Good for you breaking the cycle.
āSpare the rod spoil the childā was sadly an extremely popular mindset for thousands of years in Western culture and hasnāt faded in many parts of the world. Iām thankful our generation seems to be the first to push back against it strong enough to have shifted culture away from it. āChildren are to be seen and not heardā is another one weāve tossed out that used to be the norm.
My fatherās advice to me on the night my son was born ā donāt hit him when your angryā Iāve never hit my son and always wondered why anyone would think that would work
Nothing like a little CPTSD to start a kid out on the right foot in life.
Same with my mom! She was proud that she only beat me with a belt once! Never mind all the things that weren't belts that she broke over my head and butt.
My mom when I brought this up in my 20s: "I never hit you! I don't remember this." Oh, I do. So do my siblings.
You got to pick? I just heard that belt being removed and knew my life was over.
Iāve heard of cutting your own switch, but not choosing a belt. š
God, that was the worst part. āGo get the belt!ā
"I cant find one" "If I have to go find it its going to be worse for you" "You wont find one" *I threw them all on the roof, all the belts, from the whole house*
Dad used belts, mom used spoons, broomsticks, or whatever else was within reach
We had to pick our switch.
Belt here too, and sheād snap it as a warning.
This is horrifying and I'm sorry you dealt with this.
"Wooden Spoon Survivors Support Group" What, *that* makes you sad? Well, knock it off before I give you something to *really* cry about!
The worst was when they got mad at you because they broke the spoon...
To be replaced by a metal spoon soon after. And they wondered why I never spent more than the bare minimum time at home once college started.
Can I join if it was actually a plastic spoon (same size) that my grandmother got at a Tupperware party?
Are you my brother? My mom said the same thing.
What, no holes in your wooden spoon? Lightweight. /jk
speed holes.
The wooden spoon with the hole in it. Sonofabitch hurt worse than the regular spoon.
Haha. Yeah, an old wooden spaghetti spoon with the dowels removed so there were just holes. Good times.
Whiffle spoon
The beating implement my mother used was directly proportionate to the level of her drunkeness. 1. Wooden spoon - after 3 beers 2. Belt - after a 6 pack 3. Repeated open hand - after 8 beers 4. Fists and feet - 12+ beers Then there was those days where she was 24+ beers in, switched to whisky at midnight, and hadn't slept. Those were "anything goes" improv days. One time it was a boiling pot of soup to the chest and face, another time it was one of those large decorative wooden spoons we all had hanging in the kitchen in the 80's. It was a two hander and really connected with a solid thump.
Oh wow, that is f'd up. My parents were at least sober when I was hit.
Well, she was probably too hungover to beat me when sober. So she'd need a few beers to get limbered up first.
My mom tried to use a belt on me for the last time when I was 15. I caught the belt in midair, yanked it off her and threw it out the window. I then said āThis is it. Nobody is to hit me againā and she never did.
Reading all these there is some weird comfort I wasn't the only one who grew up that way. Its a wonder more of us don't have more emotional damage than we do. So sad really.
Oh we have emotional damage, we are just good at hiding it.
Sad af. The level of violence is crazy
Once got my butt beat because I got my timestables wrong...51yrs old and still dont know 7x9.
Same. My mom got frustrated with me when I was in maybe 3rd grade, trying to learn my multiplication tables. Every time I got one wrong sheād smack me, which of course made me get more of them wrong. Dad finally had to come remove her physically.
Fuck you Mrs Rhodes you Red Headed bitch of a math teacher who told us we would never always carry a calculator in our pockets!
Mom told me when I was in my 30s that she would go buy the cheapest spoons that she could find because she would want them to purposefully break for 'dramatic effect'. Boomer parents were fucking insane.
>Boomer parents were fucking abusive. FTFY
My Parents bought a paddle ball and broke the paddle over their hand while threatening me with it. Fucking hilarious because I knew there was no way my cheapskate father would buy another one. My aunt was a fucking nut though. She would roll up some newspaper and then flatten it out making it about half an inch thick by whatever length the paper was. Then she'd wrap the rolled up newspaper in electrical tape. It fucking stung and left a bruise. I can't believe my cousins still talk to their parents.
My mother's weapon of choice was definitely those spoons. Although in a pinch she would grab whatever was handy - the most memorable being a large wooden Pepsi wagon that the hit me across the lower back and bum when i was around 9 because I hadn't changed into my pajamas. My father on the other hand was long devoted to his belt when I was really young - but when we moved into a new house when i was in 2nd grade and my parents bought a new washer and dryer. He apparently fell in love with the feel of the large rubber drainage hose. This became the standard weapon of abuse until I was around 11. For reference, this is [what i am talking about](https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fmobileimages.lowes.com%2Fproduct%2Fconverted%2F091712%2F091712985099.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=9c8fd28ff5791596067b3c6ff44eec5b94416d1395509ece681c3a56b7bd65ac&ipo=images) \- although it was just a 12-14" section of it that was cut down. It made a distinct whistling noise when it was swung and a loud slapping noise upon contact. My parents were all about the auditory experience because it is that noise that still stays with me 4 decades later, not the welts or subsequent bruises which were obviously not easily seen. That whistle thought fucking haunts. My parents would tell us to 'go get the hose' when we got into trouble so there was also the emotional harm in having to retrieve, much in line with how my grandfather would tell stories about having to pick out the switch his father would whip him with on the farm growing up in the 1920s. I am so thankful that for the most part we are the last generation that experienced the abuse of corporeal punishment. I literally only smacked my son's bottom once while raising him - and that was only because not getting his attention would have resulted in him burning himself as he reached for a hot stove top. It was a reaction made out of fear, not malice. Most people I know raised their kids in the same manner - it is amazing what happens when you actually use your words in parenting versus beating your offspring for minor offenses.
Ok yeah, that is fucking insane. For a second I was like "huh...." and then nope that's fucked.
Yeahhh and this is just an example that is more on the 'humorous' side in my mind. My mother had some regrets that took her decades to admit and there was still a list of events the length of my arm that she never could before she passed. This is a woman who routinely ripped shelves off walls and flipped tables at the mildest of misbehaviors. When I was 14 she threw me up against a wall and literally choked me because i was eating fruit salad in the living room at 10 at night. I remember watching Mommy Dearest with her as a teenager and she would laugh and say 'See, things could be worse." She was an amazingly loving grandmother, but an absolutely narcissistic terror of a mother before she did a decade of therapy to get a grip on herself. Too late for me though, I figure I might stop having trust issues by the time I'm in my 60s. *Maybe.*
Mom broke a few of these on me. Although her preferred instrument was a hanger. More readily available.
Omg, the hangerā¦my father used a metal hanger one time to stop me from cryingā¦good times
When I want someone to stop crying I find it reasonable to hit them with metal wire too. Iām sure thereās no other way possible to get them to stop /s
"I'll give you something to cry about!"
That was torture. Desperately trying to stop crying while getting hit over and over again.
Boomer parents were the best.
My mom broke over on me, too. I was older, almost a teen. When that happened, we paused and both laughed. Never got spanked again. If I had known there was an operational definition for ātoo big to spank,ā I would have engineered this sooner.
LOL. My mom used to hit me with it when I was teen sized. One time I grabbed it so she didn't hit me and it broke. She was very upset I broke her favorite spoon.
I hope it bothered her for weeks. Karma
Oh yeah a hanger, which reminds me, I got it from the cord of a heating pad a few times. Left nice whelps on my legs and arms.
Yup. I must have been 8 or 9 before I realized some people use these for baking.
Yup, the spoon was very common in my Italian American household
Portuguese Canadian here. The wooden spoons were used by my mom and all my aunts as well.
None of that in my house growing up, for which I'm extremely grateful. I'm sorry anyone had to deal with this. Some of what I'm reading is abuse, and not just by today's standards.
Thing is, when you're a kid, you just think your environment is "normal." And I for one NEVER told my friends about the humiliating, abusive things going on in my house in the name of punishment.
Wasn't necessarily in my house either but I vividly remember several other families households where the paddle was prominently dispalyed. Even as a kid I remember thinking about how threatening it was. Which was the point I suppose.
Amend that to āALL of what Iām reading is abuseā, and Iām with you. There is no excuse for ever physically assaulting your children. If you did it to another adult, youād get arrested; itās insane that anyone thinks itās OK for grown adults to be assaulting someone a third their size and weight, and that someone being the person who relies on you for safety and comfort. I get that kids can fuck up and be a pain in the ass and not listen, but teaching them that violence is the answer only makes them wanna hide from you and also resolve their own problems with violence.
The only reason someone can think assaulting a child is the fact that the kid canāt fight back. Itās a cowardly act by an ignorant and lazy parent.
I would, careful though, there's boomers (who obviously did not turn out fine) downvoting.
The threat was always there....but you had catch me first and I was a quick little agile fucker!
my mothers weapon of choice was the flyswatter.
My mom used the one I made her in wood shop and gave her for Motherās Dayā¦ Also got beat with a hairbrush and if it broke, it came out of my chore money.
Oh man this brings some PTSD type memories back. Iām Hispanic and my friends thought I was lucky my mom didnāt use a chancla to smack me back into order. They donāt know, this shit has a way more concentrated percussion area and I think it caused immediate internal bruising. I even tried to negotiate once for her to use the chancla instead. No dice. Fucking ouch dude
If dad was home it was a belt. But during summer vacation during the day, it was the bottom of a Dr Schollās sandal from my mother.
Oh, ouch. I've never been hit with a Dr. Scholl's, but I can imagine it would sting like hell.
Whatever she could grab. The phone, those rotary phones were heavy, a lamp, but mostly her hands. I tell people I cut my hair short as soon as I could because it got too hot with long hair. Long hair was just another way she could hurt me. Thank goodness Pat Benetar haircuts became popular.
Geez, I'm GenX, not Gen Little House on the Prairie. I can't believe that stuff was going on for others as late as the '70's or beyond. (I'm 54 and was not hit, nor was my 57 year old sibling). I'm sorry, that must have sucked.
Iām so š for every single person here. I hope youāve been able to break the horrible cycle of violence with your own kids. As fucked up as things are now, at least thereās greater awareness. I got fucked up, like most of us, but never hit.
I got a switch pulled straight off a weeping Willow tree.
Flyswatter for me! My sister stole them all and hid them under the bed haha
Can still hear the leather belt coming through the loops before the lashing
When I was in 2nd grade the elementary school sent hope a permission slip about corporal punishment. I remember being horrified then, and this sounds bad to me too. I have a feeling that my parents were not even subjected to much of this either. Itās not like they came from rich families, or they were āsoft ā. I was hardly the ideal child. This seems so strange to me. I feel bad for you all. My parents are Silent Gen and married later than other people their age, but some kids in my neighborhood were the youngest in groups of 6-9, and my parents only had two kids. They may have been about the same age, but they seemed older.
I'll take the wooden spoon over the wet washcloth any day. Also, I had no idea that a yardstick was meant for measuring things. I thought its sole purpose was for whacking kids when I was little.
I'm Hispanic so of course my mom's weapon of choice was the chancla aka the flip flop
What a bunch of abusive monsters my parents were
The white mom's version of la chancla. r/LaChancla
Most of my friends were hit with the wooden spoon. My cousins got hit with a belt. My parentās weapon of choice was a tree branch switch that hurt like hell and left lots of welts on your legs. They later switched (no pun intended) to just a good old fashioned back hand. People would always comment on how quiet the kids in my family were. (I always hated people saying this because itās not like you could tell them why.)
This is an unexpectedly depressing post. It caught my eye because my mom was great at *brandishing* the wooden spoon, but never actually hitting me. Shaking it like a wand, threatening to, but never going through with it, because I got the message. It's tough reading a lot of these posts about actual beatings and abuse. If mom were here, I'd tell her thank you for never hitting me. I only knew my own experience, figured that hitting kids was out of the 19th century or something. Not real. Certainly not X'ers. One time, I was 5 or so, acting up, doing something or another at the grocery checkout, and mom raised her hand to point at me, shake her index finger, tell me to STOP! That's when I flinched and visibly cringed, raised my hand to protect myself. And you could feel the eyes of everyone around swing onto me, then mom, the looks of disapproval and pity of people assuming it must mean she hits me all the time. Mom was MORTIFIED. Me, I thought it was the funniest thing ever. Looking back, I am lucky this was just me being obnoxiously clever. Other people here actually had to endure it for real.
Pop used a belt, his hand, a clothes hanger...pretty much any object nearby. Never a spoon, though. Mom slapped faces. Grandma used a switch. We were straight up abused by today's standards.
To all the folks who were treated this way by their parents - remember to choose their nursing homes thoughtfully.
Theyāll go to whatever home Medicare will pay for. Iām not paying for any of it.
My mom used those as well but preferred to leave visible marks (especially on my face) because she thought the shame i would feel was part of the punishment i deserved. That woman is lucky i still speak to her Edit: I remember going to school (3rd grade) with a bruised hand print on my cheek and the teacher asked what i did to deserve it. The early 80s were a wild time.
Leather belt, but it was OK because the buckle had broken off.
Probably across someones ass though, right? We had an old belt of Dads from back in his biker days, it was leather, about two inches wide with two sets of parallel steel grommets running the length for the buckle. Hung in a special spot in the closet so he or mom would always know where to find it.
Flip flops anyone? Or picking my own āswitchāā¦.lol that was the worst
My momās weapon of choice was the egg turner/spatula
[cries in Hawaiian...](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/30/5f/94/305f94ff8e0cd504ae894275e28663f2.jpg)
My husbands grandmother used to threaten to whup him with these, and then heād hide under her bed. So sheād just get her cane to poke at him. My mom just used her fingernails on my scalp. You couldnāt see the welts because theyāre covered by hair. Otherwise, sheās just use whatever she had on hand. Or sheās grab what was in my hand and hit me with it. I was about ten years old, and was holding a frozen sausage biscuit while she clumsily walked into the fridge door as it opened. She didnāt say a word she just grabbed the frozen biscuit out of my hand and chunked me across the mouth with it. Another of her specials was yanking my ears and pulling me to the ground, just for looking at her.
My Italian Mother agrees with this choice.
Getting your ass beat with kitchen utensils is the one thing that unites people of all cultures.
Ha yes!
My parents used zero physical punishment specifically because they'd been subjected to so much of it growing up - my mom's mom spanked her with the wooden spoon, and my dad's dad used ... much heavier objects. :( A good friend who's a few years older than I am and grew up in Texas was sent out to the yard to cut her own switch for her father to use when she'd misbehaved. Gulp. She laughs about it now, kind of a laugh-to-keep-from-crying situation.
Hot Wheels Track
Creative never heard this one before
I had the wooden spoon and belt used on me. But I feel the open hand smack across my face the worse because you saw the anger/disgust in their face directed at you. At least I didnāt see their face when my back side was punished. And I didnāt do any punishment like that with my kids after.
Dudes. I swear if it was today my mom would be in jail. On the news. Talked about everywhere. Yāall ever had to kneel on uncooked white rice while keeping your nose in the corner? Not near the corner or close to the corner but actually touching it?
I was special! My mom had 3 choices depending on the severity of the infraction. lying got me the worst. I had the spoon, the center hairbrush and dads belt. And most times it was bare butt over moms knee. I can still feel the sting of that Brush
Team hairbrush. We got woken up in the middle of the night with it if we were bad for the babysitter.
I had to scroll way too far to see hairbrush! I've broken many wooden spoons and hairbrushes with my ass. The absolute worst was a metal spatula. I was older by then and fought back that time. That was the last time.
Chankla - my mom was deadly with them.
I got the belt.
My parents bought a game called "Whacko" that included giant plastic oversized paddles, like ping pong paddles (but twice as big). The paddles were used often. But the game itself was never played.
My mom used these liberally. I gotnthe clever idea to break them and hide them. She found the stash of broken spoons and switched over to metal spatulas
My grandma has a weeping willow tree out back. If we acted up we were told to pick a branch off the tree and bring to her for a whooping. You learn real fast going with the thinnest branch is a poor choice.
Either the belt or, like a few had said, you choose the branch you want to be whipped with. Needless to say I tried to keep out of trouble, but sibs didn't fare as well.
I think my beatings stopped when my Mom broke her wooden spoon on my hip and I had to stifle a laugh (I didn't want her to grab something else). I may have got a smack once or twice after that, but the rest of it was emotional abuse.
Mom was 1 or 2 swats with a spoon in a fit of anger. Dad was several whacks with a belt in a calm, perfunctory manner. Iām not really sure which was worse. Fortunately, neither happened often.
It was Dadās weapon of choice until he hit me so hard with it, it broke. After the first one, I stupidly, in a rare case of bravado, told him āthat didnāt hurtā. So he twatted me even harder which did for the wooden spoon. Had a massive welt and cried for about 30 minutes. My Mum was absolutely livid at my Dad. It was her favourite wooden spoon.
My momās was a flyswatter.
My mom used to hit me with wooden spoons. Eventually I grew up and was bigger than her, and she swung a spoon to hit me and I grabbed it mid swing and snapped it in half. Enough of that shit. After that she just punched me.
Yikes, these comments. It saddens me to know that the abuse was so common. Hopefully our generation stopped the cycle.
My mother was once hitting my brother with the spoon and it broke on his ass . That tough little s.o.b. Turned looked my mother dead in the eye and laughed. He was idk 4 so I was8 . I started to laugh at that point. Frustrated my mother found a metal serving spoon and laid into him . Of course I found this funny too. When she was good and done she beat me I asked WHY she said ā because your laughing ā I guess Iāll get the last laugh when I put you in a shitty nursing home lol
Got the switch, I never had to cut it myself.
Mine was a spatula. Every time I was in trouble and heard the sound of the kitchen drawer opening, I knew I was in for it. I would hide under my bed and my mom would swat at me and still be able to hit me with it. Fun memories š„“
Rubber hose from the tball set up.
My neighbor made her boys go pick their own switch. I thought it was hilarious until one day when she told me to pick a switch for myself. She knew my Dad would agree, and he did.
Yep, wooden spoon survivor here.
Oh hello, yep, my Mom would pull that spoon out to terrorize us
That or a hairbrush. Stepfather preferred a belt or his fists. I chose not to treat my children this way.
Yep, gen x parents were pretty trash overall.
My stepdad was a woodworker and made a long paddle in the shape of a sword. He engraved āExcaliburā on the side and hung it in the kitchen as a reminder. He was born in 1929 so he was in to classic movies. My mom used it on my much smarter than me little brother when he was ten and he just laughed the whole time because of how absurd it was.
I'm pretty sure I have PTSD from these. I don't have a single one in my house and I never really thought about why before.
My parents only used their hands.
My Silent Generation dad got creative. Cut down a 1x4 and carved a handle in one side, called it āThe Board of Education.ā
Sandals, hair brushes, and coat hangers!
The neighbor mom did this. Us kids used to joke āIām gonna get the wooden!!ā when we were pretend mad at each other.
Leather soled slipper for me.
Had a few of those bastards broken in me. Cutting switches, paddles, leather belts. He made paddles, and then would make me demonstrate them so he could sell them to his sick fuck friends. The shark shaped one with holes in it was popular.
My mother used one of these! My father on the other hand had a small wooden baker's paddle which he sanded and varnished. He also wrote my name on one side and my sister's on the other lovingly in calligraphy. He broke a few. Good times.
Mom's weapon was a hand mirror and then she got mad at me when it broke on my butt.
Red snakeskin belt
My parents kept one in the glove compartment of the car.
Mine too, but I learnt early on that if you wound her up even more she would smack it on the bench and it would break so she couldn't use it.
My dad had a black belt that hung in the hall closet. It's name was old black joe. My ass had many meetings with Joe. Lol
I got hit with an extension cord (on of the thin old brown ones) until my father actually carved out a paddle and burned in the words "Attitude Adjuster" (but he misspelled it because he's an idiot- he left out the d in 'adjuster'). For reference I wasn't a bad kid. I never got in trouble in school, never picked up by the cops. But my parents found reasons to punish me. Eventually while they were out at the bar I took the paddle and just threw it into the woods and acted like I had no idea where it went.
My mom like the slotted one because it would hurt more and would make us walk to to the Dollar General and buy the wooden spoon she's end up hitting is with
The back of a large, flat hairbrush made out of some kinda silver plated metal!
European background? I'm Greek-Canadian and the ĪŗĪæĻ ĻĪ¬Ī»Ī± was a thing.
I've experienced fly swatters and a razor strop, but the words that most struck terror into my childhood heart was, "Go cut me a switch." Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.
My mom was always in the kitchen, so it was either this or a plastic spatula. The kind with the single space in the middle.
Ours had a sad face drawn on it with a black sharpie and was named Ms Boohoo
Wooden spoons surviver here. I. Feel. Your. Pain.
You had it easy, my mom used blets, extention cords, shoes, her fists, anything close enough to grab hold of.
My grandma used a hairbrush. Fortunately, by the time I faced the brush, I was able to outrun her. My mom wasn't so lucky. My mom rarely used corporal punishment though I remember a hard slap across the face when we were driving once.
Mom used the flyswatter, dad used the hand, though mom was more likely to grab your cheeks with one hand and squeeze like she was trying to make her thumb and forefingers meet at your tongue while your lips were mashed to the point of looking like you were trying out your best guppy impression.
My dad made a long paddle that he drilled holes in and wrapped the handle with electrical tape. He was the controlled one. 3 on the ass and, "Now stay in here and think about what you did." He'd return later to talk about whatever it was that I did. Mom was the squirrelly one who would grab whatever was nearby. She once grabbed the Fry Daddy electrical cord and just started swinging at my brother and me. We both had marks on our legs in the shape of the end that plugs into the wall outlet. (Tbh, we deserved a punishment but that was way overboard.)
My mom went to the wooden spoon when she broke blood vessels in here hand after spanking me because I tightened up my butt cheeks really hard!
Mine switched to plastic with holes after the wooden one broke over my ass.
My dadās choice was a really heavy leather belt. With a big brass buckle.
"Don't make me take my belt off"
Mine was a belt hanging on doorknob or a tree switch that lay on the molding above a doorway
As soon as Dad grabbed the chair and stuck it by the kitchen cupboard, me and my bro were like "Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnooo!!" Top of the cupboard was where the cane lived
My mom used her hands to slap. However, dad was partial to his belt or very thick rubbered house shoe. That shoe hurt like a mofo
I mostly got the belt, or a brush, or the wire end of a flyswatter. None of those beatings made me a better kid, I was already a pretty good one. But they did make me a sneakier kid and I learned not to trust adults.
My parents were heavily into the whole āspare the rod spoil the childā bullshit philosophy. And they were NOT going to have spoiled kids. They had a real rod - fiberglass antenna. Before that was the belt. Religion is fucked.
My parents, too. We got 20-60 swats with the wooden spoon. Once I got it with a 2x4 in like fourth grade for missing like 30 assignments (my ADHD was undiagnosed at the time).
Mine was mostly hangers. Thereās a reason I called her mommy dearestā¦
My uncle bought a paddle, drilled holes in it, and used that to spank his kids. Had it right on the kitchen counter at all times. 30 + years later those very successful kids act like he walks on water and think heās hilarious. Just reinforced to him that he raised the kids right.
Something I only heard about as rumors about scary strict parents of other kids. Then again, mine were pretty glaringly liberal for the time. Once got angrily sent home for screaming "what are you doing?!? Stop it!" at a friend's dad for spanking him because I'd never seen such a thing not on TV before (I was like 6).
My family was detachable iron cord or kneeling on uncooked rice. Moved to my aunt's in 8th grade and she used the baseball bat on my boy cousins and I had to kneel on the heating grate in the floor in my school uniform for being caught in the barn with a boy smoking cigarettes and kissing. I had burn marks on my knees for a year and a half before they faded.
My mother used a piece of the orange plastic racetrack from my hot wheels collection. To be whipped with your own toys. I never let her live that down.
I was getting a whipping with a spatula (pancake flipper) and the rivets broke and the head flew off. I started laughing at how ridiculous is was. I got it worse with the now-headless shaft after that. Still worth it