Awwwww, cute. Thanks for the link, Sumi. Neat that the zoo has a place that allows the cheetahs to run as fast as they would in the wild.

We didn't even have any especially big wooden spoons in the house

They don't have to be big. It stings.

Not to imply that I was mistreated. I was spanked, not beaten. I can only think of one time I didn't deserve it.

At the same time, I went to a private Christian fundie church and was spanked with a wooden board that had holes in it (it hurt like HELL) 3 times in the one school year that I attended ICC.

I don't know how much I hear that the lack of this is what is wrong with the schools.

One bad thing my dad used to do... When I started 7th grade, all of a sudden I developed a fairly bad stutter. He used to get very angry when I stuttered, and when I did stutter he'd try to force me to say what I was trying to say without the stutter. Needless to say his approach made things much worse for me.

The church school I attended was tiny, and the year I went there (the pastor and founders were my Aunt Sharon's family) was its second year. Since I had family who were heavily involved in the church and school (and still are--my Aunt lives in Kenya as a missionary -since 1986), I've been able to keep up on the news. It should be no surprise that the church, with its attitude toward sexual activity, had a very high teen birthrate. Of the 75 or so students in the school (it was K-12, don't know what it is now), in 1985 alone, there were 6 pregnancies carried to term.

but man did we ever live in dire fear of the wooden spoon.

My mother, when she was in a particularly bad place after she and my dad separated, was very hair-trigger with her temper. One time, she came after me with a Dr. Scholl's wooden shoe.

Fucker hurts like a bitch, lemme tell you what.

Only times I've ever smacked the kids was when they were much smaller and about to do something incredibly stupid, like when Nate was about to touch the hot burner on the island cooktop. I was on the opposite side and the only way I could keep him from doing it was to lunge across the island and smack his hand away.

We were just made to feel my parents' disappointment in our behavior, and we lost their trust. It was surprisingly effective.

Word. On the other hand, I've wondered if it caused my overactive guilt reflex as an adult.

Just to bring things around, the only time I EVER got grounded was when I was out till midnight on a school night... with Miracleman. Would that we had been doing something more interesting than playing poker with quilt squares, but that really was it.

And I think I can finally go home, carrying my grading with me. Joy!

I was spanked as a kid and am no worse for the wear. Only traumatic one was when I was spanked for crying. I'm sure there was more context there, but I didn't work it out at the time. Didn't stop me crying, that's for sure.

I was difficult to punish otherwise. I didn't go out that much, so grounding was ineffective. I didn't watch tv, so there weren't tv privileges to revoke. I remember once as a child I was disciplined for eating some treat at a verboten time, by being sent to my room...where the treat was. Hee.

Also being sent to my room was the most frequent and least effective punishment, because that was where the books were!

I think I might have been spanked as a child, but I don't really remember. My grandma did swat me with the backside of the hairbrush if I cried or screamed or squirmed when she was brushing my hair. Which assured that I learned to brush my own hair in short order. Actually, come to think of it, this is probably why my mom cut my hair short for several years.

When I was sixteen I called my mother a bitch and we got into a physical altercation with her trying to wash my mouth out with soap. We were both REALLY angry, but I was far stronger, and I really kind of deserved it.

My mom being disappointed in me did not work, as she had a far worse opinion of me than what was going on-- I think she expected a hard drinking, going out kinda girl, and she got a goody two shoes. SO we were usually arguing over something she totally misconstrued, like my coming home and having the hiccups leading her to think I was drunk when I did not have a drink until graduation night, when I had one wine cooler!

When I was sixteen I called my mother a bitch and we got into a physical altercation with her trying to wash my mouth out with soap. We were both REALLY angry, but I was far stronger, and I really kind of deserved it.

Ok, at the risk of sounding like a textbook example, I swear I was the only one this ever happened to.

Except I told my mother to go fuck herself.

My mom being disappointed in me did not work, as she had a far worse opinion of me than what was going on

Our moms should have a club.

ETD jaunty apostrophe.