that's a childhood classic. Diversionary tactic.

I think the last time my mother hit me was when I approached my father much later, still marked, and just said that she'd hit me hours ago.

It was true--I didn't lie about the time frame. But my eyes were full enough of tears that my father didn't pause for a second to remember exactly how delicate my skin was (I was careful to not let them know about my tolerance for pain) and instead went with my unspoken implication that she must have smacked the shit out of me.

The other few times it was a semantic game and I got off clean.

Okay, typing is hurting too much.

What are the odds I can get to the ER for good drugs and still make it to work tomorrow at 7:30? Because that's the best of both possible worlds.

If you go now it might be possible. do you need a ride? I can be there in 20 minutes.

No offense and much thanks for the offer, Kat, but I am not going to be in any way responsible for you stepping foot in a hospital. Not now.

What I am going to do is try deep breathing, biofeedback, and a sleep mask.

sara, I'm still freaked by the world's tallest man putting his arm in a dolphin to save it.

Um, don't read my whitefont.

ita, hope you get some improvement fast and tidily!

I'm terribly something when it comes to critters. It can be embarassing. When I needed a good cry for whatever reason I had a book about a 3 legged cat and another about a hedgehog and another about a raccoon that would basically render me incapacited by saltwater. And yet, I've been the efficient triager of critters. I'm getting more so about kids (uh, freaked out, not triager,) but the fact I completely freak out over a hedgehog still is odd. I guess it is necessary distance, one that is closing as I acquire more kids into my family. I wonder if it is a function of survival that you start with a distance and then by familiarity, lose it.

too late. whitefont read.

ita, I'm oddly comfortable in hospitals. Offer still stands. I think I'll go vege in front of the TV. I have my cell if you change your mind.

SORRY.

enh. no worries, sara. It's what made me think of the dolphin. I blame lisah for that knowledge.

I didn't really get physically punished much as a kid, which was due to a mix of being quiet and well-behaved (my, how times change on that last!) and my mom making clear to my dad that the style of whippings he and his siblings had routinely earned back in the 1940s would not fly in her house. Apparently, there was an incident when I was a toddler that revealed both their differing takes on corporal punishment and the previously unsuspected fact that Mom's meek exterior concealed a lose-your-shit-and-fuck-people-up temper like unto Krakatoa.

I'm sorry Mac has hit that stage, msbelle. I hope it's relatively short lived.

I was actually a fairly good kid, at least as far as my parents knew.

My parents yelled, and I'm sure I got "selfish brat" many a time, nearly all deserved. I was pretty self-aware as a kid. though. I think there's a big difference in impact if it's coming out of nowhere, or for really just being a kid, as opposed to when you knew all along that you were pushing it. The few times I got in the shit when it wasn't deserved I reacted with rightous outrage that knew no bounds. Or time limits, apparently.

We got spanked, for sure, if it was something really bad. Or if we lied about it. But the only memory that sticks with me clearly was the day when, mid-spanking, complete with hysterical shrieking and all, I had a revelation: this doesn't actually hurt that much.

Whoa, no stopping me then.