Did your parents HUMANLY BEAT you too?

The word is "humane".

Humanely beat you.

???

No. My parents were not humane. I was beaten and beaten up regularly.

I thought they would mellow out with age but they haven't. I haven't gone back in about 4 years now. I won't return.

We had the Childspank 3000 from Sears.

It was Sears "Better".

We couldn't afford the ChildSpank 6000.

I always regretted being punished by a second rate device.

My dad whooped me until he realized that whooping me didn't work like it did on my sister

1. Ass whooping
2. Grounded/Timeout
3. Beating
4. Military Camp

Never made it past 2 but that’s what the rules were in my house.

I hated my step father until I moved out and realized every time he punished me, it was for a good reason...

Its funny now, I called him on his birthday and told him thank you for all the life lessons, one major one being how to appropriately respect officers of the law...

Without discipline your children will turn into dems..

Dim-witted. Entitled. Morans.

Last Edited by NeroAxia on 04/07/2021 03:50 PM

My dad most always used his belt. The one thing about it is I always deserved it for something I did. It was a I learned there were consequences for my actions. Simple to me at the time.

I got humbly beat

Meh, you grow up in a childhood that would be a great horror book, you don't want to be them, so you become a permissive/passive parent. Then you learn too late that there is a clear line between corrective discipline and beating, and your children are feral. Live and learn .

My Dad never touched me unless I went over the line with Mom, ONE time as a teen (I totally deserved what he dished out). Mom took care of the discipline...wooden spoon or hair brush, whichever was most handy. Honestly, most of the time she was way too quick and ready for it, but it was never unprovoked. She wasn't over the top, but used the fear of it like a surgical maestro.

I have never felt the need to strike my kids. I feel blessed that they were all well behaved. I mastered the "voice" that got things under control. "A thund'ring, velvet hand"

I have always loved that lyric.

My folks used physical punishment wisely, I think I grew up ok thanks to that, because it teaches limits and connects actions with negative consequences. I am all for educated and measured application of punitive force and authority when well deserved.

It usually happened like this:

Me or my sister did something stupid (like punching the other, breaking something because of being careless, and also and very specially, not making the homework or getting a bad qualification on a school test).

Any of the transgressions would normally imply a vocal reprimend followed for a time out in the perpertrator's room (in silence), followed by a calculated wait after which one was called to the living room to hear a calculated reasoning behind the need to apply a punishment, then one was asked to acknowledge the fault and vow to never do it again, then asked to choose the kind of physical punishment (hint, it was never an easy choice) and then the punishment was applied. The rest of the day one was allowed to back to normal activity but normally the leftover pain of the punishment (usually a number of up to 5 painful knucle knocks in the head or painful spoon whippings with the palm open, designed to be painful but not leave any other lasting consequence) make one be very quiet and act very mindful of what one was doing.

At the moment, it sucked, but in retrospective I have thanked my folks for being that way, it really helped to have a very good perpsective.

I deserved what I got. Those who did the switch dance know how to act thanks to being striped when it was needed.

YEP deserved it. Never went to jail, so far.

The Fire..

Of the switch..

Got to pick em too..

I was 5 years old when my mother broke her hairbrush on my ass. I turned around and laughed that she was without a hairbrush now. She never spanked me again.

When I was 6 and 7 I went to a summer camp where they used corporal punishment. I got wacked with a canoe paddle once. That was wrong. They could have broken a child's tailbone. From then on, I went to a YMCA summer camp which had such a challenging program and good counsellors that they never had to resort to that.

In grade 1, my best friend and I got sent to the principal's office. The big guy opened a briefcase that contained his collection of leather straps. They looked like something out of a BDSM store (though such things didn't exist back then). Then he showed us where he had written our names in his Black Book of Bad Children, but he had only written our names in pencil so they could still be erased.

I didn't see the inside of the Principal's office again till Grade 5. A new kid at school had just given me a black eye. We were outside the office when the kid who punched me started crying. I said "what are you crying for? I'm the one with the black eye." Then he told me that he had been kicked out of the French Catholic school system and the English Catholic system. If he got kicked out of the Protestant school board, the next stop was reform school. When we got called in to see the Man, I immediately told him that Pepe was only defending himself and we were going to be friends. The Principal wanted to know what I would tell my mother. When I said "the same thing I told you.", he let us go.

In Grade 6, my brother won a city-wide scholarship to a Private School for the super rich. They still wacked the kids with everything from canes, to fishing rods, to hockey goalie's sticks. He only attended for 2 years. The social connections were awesome, but there were no girls. As an adult he ran into one of his old teachers. The teacher wanted to apologise for the physical abuse, but my brother told him it was a different time.

Yes, I'm better for it. The world
was better for it. I'm not dead or in jail. Kids today are habitual line steppers because noone ever showed them the line. My boy is five. He has been spanked twice in his life. Never like my dad did me with his belt or whatever. Once when he walked up and hit our elderly dog in the head with a wooden block.....and once when he stopped on the steps and refused to move and go up to bed. To this day all I have to do is start counting. I only ever get to one. My wife always threatens an ass whooping but has never done it. As a result he rarely listens to her without a fight.

Nah, I was the youngest out of 4.. I think my parents were too damn tired at that point to worry about it. Hence I could do just about anything I wanted, and I did.

My brothers always gave me shit about that..

Ah, the ole 'make sure there ain't no leaves still on that switch when you git back in here, you here me?'

and let's not even get started on the castor oil once a month

:(

That really sucks