There used to be an old leather black belt carefully positioned on top of our toilet tank as a ‘gentle’ reminder to walk the line and not aggravate our parents.
That leather belt rarely came off the toilet, but when it did, I remember diving under my bed and trying to hide from an angry father who was looking for some lily white arses to paddle.
My mother used to keep a stock of wooden spoons in a side drawer to whack our hands with whenever we misbehaved. They kept breaking on our skinny little bones so she liked to maintain an ample supply, just in case.
Boo’s dad used to make him walk to the bush and pick out a willow switch, and carve it while his father watched, all the while knowing his dad was going to use that willow switch on his poor bottom for what ever crime he had committed.
Boo said his father very rarely actually used the switch because the torture of just finding and stripping the branch more than exceeded the crime. He’d be a blubbering mess as his father watched him work, just living in fear of the moment he had to bend over and receive his lashes.
Oh, those were the good ole days. The days when kids had manners and parents were more interested in parenting their children than being friends with them.
Not that I’m advocating beating your children, but sometimes I wish I had a willow tree handy or a long black belt sitting on the toilet tank to strike fear into the hearts of my children.
Chasing them around with a wooden spoon while yelling hollow threats about how they are going to be sorry when I finally catch them hasn’t quite worked. They’re on to me. They know I won’t actually use the spoon on their rump, I’ll just wave it around like a wild woman while they roll their eyes and pretend to listen.
It’s not always the most effective discipline technique. Sigh.
It’s way more effective to duct tape them to the walls and whip them with wet noodles. Heh.
Even if I wanted to lay the smack down on my children for their misdeeds, they’ve grown up. They’re almost as big as me. I’m pretty sure my daughter would wrestle me to the ground and lay a can of whoop ass on my aging body if I even tried.
My son would just sit on me and fart.
So in an effort to maintain order and a false sense of dominance, I’ve had to find more creative ways to lay down the law lately.
Mostly, I just call their father and rat them out and watch the sniveling begin. However, that isn’t always an option. Like the other day when my son knocked a gaping hole in my pantry door because he was goofing around with his sister.
His father wasn’t answering his phone, leaving me to deal with it. I needed a punishment to fit the crime. While the willow switch beckoned, I settled on saddling him with dish duty for a week and he’ll pay for the replacement door out of his own pocket.
He also had to write me a two hundred word essay on why he needs to respect the home he lives in or he will find himself living outside in a cardboard box and acting as bear bait.
It would have been easier to swat him and yell but heck, it wouldn’t have been near as amusing as when he saw the dollars fly out of his piggy bank. Not to mention, I’m planning on collecting all of his essays into a book and presenting it to him when he finally has a family of his own.
Payback’s a bitch, my son.
So is yer momma.
For the most part, Fric and Frac are respectful, pleasant, well-behaved children who are a joy to have around. (And not just when I’m drinking my mommy juice. Wink, wink.)
But there are moments when the two of them cannot get along and it takes all of my will power not to put them up for sale on e-bay.
I don’t know what I was thinking have children only 13 months apart. Oh wait, I wasn’t thinking. I was horny. Duh.
Car rides are generally the worst. Back when their brother was alive, Bug would separate the two of them which was particularly useful in preventing them from attempting to murder one another.
Fric likes to sing. Frac likes silence. Frac likes to poke and bug, Fric likes her personal space unhindered by dirty little brother paws.
Bug’s no longer here to keep the peace. Dammit. Meaning they have free access to annoy each other and drive me bat shit crazy while I’m trying to drive them safely to our destination.
Most of the time I just yell at them, threaten to call their dad and then turn up the stereo to drown them out. The other night though, they laid one too many straws on this momma camel’s back. I broke.
I yanked hard on the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes as the car wildly veered to the side of the road and gravel sprayed everywhere.
“That’s it! I have had enough of the two of you bickering and pestering each other. I have asked you several times to either behave or just shut up! You don’t want to listen to me, well I don’t want to listen to you!” I growled.
Both Fric and Frac sat there in stunned silence and suffering from a slight case of whiplash from the car stopping so suddenly.
“Get out of my car.”
They just sat there, in stunned disbelief.
“Now. GET. OUT. BEFORE. I. LOSE. IT. ON. YOU.” I was half hissing, half growling.
“But MOOOOM. We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Frac wailed.
“You should have thought of that before you ignored me umpteen times. GET OUT.”
They looked at me and tried to gauge just how high the crazy rated in my eyes. I stared back at them just daring them not to listen.
Apparently the crazy was very obvious in my eyes because they slowly vacated the car and stood by the side of the road in the drizzling rain looking like they were about to cry.
I rolled down my window and growled, “Now, think about this moment the next time you decide to ignore what I ask and pester one another.” With that, I stomped on the gas and sped away.
Not very far. Only about 500 meters or so, but far enough to freak them out. When the kids saw my brake lights flash on , they sprinted to the car. Only to find the doors locked.
Again, I rolled down the window and growled. “I mean, just how many times do I need to ask the two of you to get along before you think I’m serious?”
“Mom! We’re soooorreeee! We’re getting soaked out here. We’ll be good. Let us in!” they begged.
I looked at them and felt a maternal tug at my heart strings. It was swiftly smothered by the memory of annoyance suffered just moments earlier.
“Too bad. Start walking. When I think you have learned your lesson, you can get back in.”
They started to argue, but the look on my face shut them up quick enough. Slowly, they started to trudge ahead, towards home.
I drove beside them, all the while lecturing them about why there are rules in the car and how safety comes first, not the need to pester one another, as they slowly marched alongside the car. In the rain.
They looked like a pair of drowned, pathetic rats.
Just when I was about to stop and let them back in, Frac looked at me and said “When I grow up, I’m never going to be as mean as you to my kids.”
Wrong thing to say, kiddo. I laughed and then barked at them to speed it up. “Faster! Faster!” I yelled as I picked up more speed.
I had those two running full speed until they looked like they were going to fall over dead with exhaustion. They were soaked to the bones and covered with mud.
Finally, mercy prevailed and I pulled over and let them in. They wisely got in without saying a word. They strapped themselves in and all you could hear was the heavy breathing from the back seat.
I looked back at them through the rear view mirror and asked if they had had enough.
“Yes,” Fric nodded and then she proceeded to apologize to her brother and me. Frac followed suit immediately.
“I wasn’t trying to be mean, you guys. It’s just you were distracting me from safely driving with your arguing and that isn’t cool. I figured if you had this much energy in the back of the car, you just needed a friendly way to burn it off. Now everyone feels better, right?”
They were too busy shivering to answer, but they nodded so I turned up the heat.
The next few miles passed in blissful silence until we were home. As Fric got out of the car, I heard her whisper to her brother, “She should have made us run farther. I was just getting started!”
Frac nodded and said, “I know! Me too! I could totally run faster than her car!”
They giggled and I pretended not to hear them. Until one of them unwisely said, “It’s a good thing Mom didn’t have to do that when she was growing up. She’d have died from the exercise.”
That’s when I got out their father’s duct tape and started boiling the noodles to beat them with.
It’s them or me, two against one. I’m thinking I may need to start looking for a willow tree.
57 Comments
OMG!! First comment!! Awesome.
First of all, I totally got the switch thing. We only got it if we were REALLY bad (like the time I chasing my brother through the house with a knife…butter knife…but still a knife). We got the belt most of the time though. Dad was a snapper (pulling the loop in the belt tight and listening to the loud snap while smiling like a maniac). All he had to do was jingle that clasp and we went running. My mom liked to use the wait until your father gets home threat but she could definately lay a butt-whipping on you when she needed to. Ah, the good ol’ days…hehe.
I never had to walk home in the rain though…hehe. That was priceless.
Omg….You are so good! I sat here at my desk and laughed out loud. People in the office are looking at me funny right now. Just so you know, you help me get through my day!! I would have loved to watched the kids walking along beside your car. I wish I had thought of that when my son was growing up.
that is sooo something i should try..but i know my kids can out run my car..
When my mom was little her brothers fought constantly. Finally, her dad brought them into the yard, and belt in hand told them to “Fight”..he said the first one to stop swinging was getting whipped..she said it was the funniest look on their faces when they started half-heartedly pushing each other and he said “I said fight!” and they just didn’t know what to do.
Things are SOOOOOO different now. I’m worried about the next 10 years.
My dad would walk up to my sister and I when we were fighting and smash our heads together hard enough to make our ears ring. Good thing we’re both really hard headed (take after Dad on that). ;0)
I like the way you think lady. I did the same thing to a friend of mine who was being super disrespectful in my car…but I left him on the side of the highway. (I went to the next exit and back to get him.)
He’s yet to be disrespectful to me in the car again…
You should copy write that idea, my friend!
Damnit Tanis. YOU. ROCK.
I was a belt child. A little bit on the severe side though. I always swore I’d never stike my children. Now I’d go to jail if I even tried to spank a bottom or two. I’m constantly looking for creative ways to punish them when they get on my ever loving last nerve ( I think I have maybe two frazzled nerves left, so they better watch their little asses. )
I’ve used the the writing sentances til their paws fall off techique. When they are finished they put them up on a corkboard in their room as reminders of why they shouldn’t eff up. It’s worked pretty good so far.
Sunday we leave for vacation, driving across the corn riddled flatlands of Kansas. I’ll have to remember Tanis’s “Get your ass out of the car” technique around mile 500 I’m sure. I’ll take pictures.
I will have to use that one the next time mine get on my nerves in the car. It is hard because the hubby is in Iraq and I have a 16 year old going on 30 and a 7 year old ADHD boy who reminds me daily that “daddy is the boss not you”. It takes all I have not to knock him out daily so I have to get creative on how to punish them. The girl is just take away the cell phone and internet well the boy, he is as hard headed as his dad.
Oh, you are too good. I may have to drive them into the middle of nowhere like that.
Nice work.
When I got my driver’s license, I frequently kicked my little brother out of my car and made him walk if he messed with the radio station. I think it’s an awesome method of punishment.
ooooooh, I LIKE that. We have recently resorted to the sentences thing here. Write until your fingers don’t work anymore. That and scrubbing toilets with the toothbrush, cuz we’re filthy beasts around here and no matter how you look at it, that’s a rotten task. I LIKE the running in the rain.
Funniest Mom EVER. You have got to be one of my favorite bloggers.
I was a wire hanger girl myself. That stings like no other my friend. Ouch.
But the car/running in the rain….. better. Love it.
I can’t remember what we, my sister and I, were doing in the back seat when my dad threw us out of the car as punishment. Unlike you, our dad drove out of sight, thereby giving us just enough time to leave the roadway and go for an adventure. I think it took him about six hours to find us, my sister and I just walked and talked and had a great time. This was in the 1950’s in Arizona, rattlesnakes, mountain lions, javelinas, coyotes were everywhere. He never threw us out of a vehicle again, I guess he thought we’d just stand there and cry, but we were adventure seekers, as I recall we were both under the age of 10 when this happened.
“Payback’s a bitch, my son. So is yer momma.” Lines like that make you a classic.
Anyhow, damn woman - HATS OFF TO YOU - I am filing this away and using it in about 10 years time.
I think that those of us who were subjected to whippings as kids often find more creative ways to punish as parents.
I’ll have to remember this one. It totally beats the time I duct taped my kids to the wall.
I think I’m going to have to remember that when we are out and the boys are bickering.
That is such a good idea! My kids are 5 and 8 and argue constantly in the car. I’ll definitely think of you the next time they’re driving me nuts!
I have wanted to do that sooo many times, and I would, but I travel on busy highways and interstates. What I wouldn’t give to live on a road like yours!
That is classic! Oh, my teenage kids will REALLY be pissed. I used to make the kids sit on the couch and hold hands, then give each other a kiss afterwards. They thought they had been poisoned.
Two words:
FUCKING AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!
I did the get-out-and-walk thing with Son One - once. That’s all it took. Good for you! I love the essay to book idea, too. Wish I’d thought of that.
I left a message for CPS and they just said “her again? are they taped to the wall again or buried up to their chins in the sandbox?” To which I had no reply beyond “something about out of the car, walking…I don’t know.”
The nice lady at CPS then said “So, what you’re telling me is that you called us to let us know that Tanis made her kids get some fresh air and exercise, all while hydrating properly?”
“Um. I guess so. ?.”
“Ok. We’re sending over her medal.”
So thanks to you, I now have more arsenal up my sleeve for my pesky, back-seat-bickering children.
Very impressive!
My father-in-law had a great technique with squabbling over toys in the station wagon when traveling across country with five kids. Take the toy and throw it out the window. The path from San Diego to Bismarck was littered with toys.
Oh I’m definitely using this one the next time my boys fight in the car. I tried getting a car with three rows of seats to keep them seperated… yeah what an amateur I am. Sibling rivalry is not limited to physical altercations (as if I didn’t know that what with the torture I endured as a kid). The only thing it’s done is taught them to be more clever with their insults and to be more patient in waiting to tear each other apart. And take 10 more years off my life.
Recently, my 6 year old daughter decided to channel her evil side, and spit on another child in her class. I was mortified. What to do? Well she made a card, but that didn’t seem good enough. So she was to give the little girl some flowers. But wait, I didn’t spit on the little girl, why I am paying for the flowers? So I made her take her birthday money and purchase the bouquet herself.
When my two girls fight over toys, the toys get donated to l”ittle kids who don’t have so much to fight over”, because I do not have the patience for the incessant whining, and it is amazing how they now get along so well!
Dear God, it’s a good thing my mother never met you! She bows to no one, but to you… it’d be full prostration and a mountain of tribute.
This is creative parenting at its very best.
OHMYGAWD!
I have TOTALLY screeched to the side of the road to yell at the while parked!
Ah. You are a wise, wise woman.
OMG..I am LMAO. This is a classic. You never let me down. Thanks for the laugh.
Dont let them fool you. You got the better of them this time.
We got beatings with anything my mother felt like using.
But especially with the woven rug beater that left beautifully patterened bruises on our asses and thighs.
Anger management, anyone?
*sigh*
You are a genius! Thanks for making my day.
Hmmmm note to file for my road trip back to Winnipeg this summer! D’ya think the #1 would be to busy of a highway for that??
Kudos to you Mom!
MPS used to get the wooden spoon. In Hungarian wooden spoon sounds like ‘fing hell’ phonetic is fook canarl’ so the boys would run around laughing while getting the living daylights beaten out of them.
I have left my daughters on the side of the road for arguing. Didn’t think to make them run beside the car. Dammit!
Ha! I love it - best thing I’ve read all week
(off to save this for later usage LOL)
I’m totally keeping that tactic in my back pocket.
Haha Jenn @ Juggling Life! My dad just told me the other day that when my sister and I were younger (we’re a year and a half apart) about 3 and 4, probably and we were fighting over one of those little bags of potato chips. He said that he got so sick of hearing it that he threw them out the window.
Then, he said that I screamed and made him feel about ‘this big’ (making the thumb and pointer finger gesture for small) and he pulled over to get us more. I guess if you can deal with the guilt though, that’d be a great technique.
Anymore, if you threw a toy out the window because your kids were fighting, they’d give you a $250-$350 fine for littering =\
Look at all the wonderful things we learn here at Redneck Mommy. That is why I come, for all the learning I get.
Would you recommend this discipline for the toddler and 6 yr old set? I am thinking that maybe I shouldn’t let them run quite as long. I mean their legs are shorter. I may have to worry about the heat, but maybe it will be a big player in this discipline. Nothing says love like almost dying from heat exhaustion.
Nah, that seems like too much work. I will just dangling the darlins in front gators like my parents and grandparents did before to teach them a lesson. Nothing like snapping jaws and being dragged into the swamp to get a little kid to straighten up.
I bow to thee Redneck Mommy, I bow to thee!!!
I spank mine…yep I said it and I mean it. Didn’t hurt me, doesn’t hurt them (in the long run…lol.) When Smooch once told me she was calling the police I told her to tell them to hurry cause I was going to spank her till they arrived and handed her the phone. Asked why she thought I had a savings account. When she said vacation I told her it could just as easily be used for bail and explained the foster care system to her. Eyes like saucers, lip trembling, she put the phone down and backed up into her room. I guess the crazy in my eyes registered with her little pea sized intellect. But they are both Honors students with all A’s and have NEVER been in trouble at school. I can take them anywhere and I rarely have to repeat myself.
Next time you can run them further and if they protest remind them “You’re just getting started, remember?” Buhahahahahaw!!!!
You’re amazing. I’m taking notes.
I use to get the plastic spoon after all the wood ones somehow broke then the plastic one did to go figure . Now with my son since he was born dad always yells alot never wanting to hit that didnt work so from the age of around 6yrs Ive started counting to 3 . I would start by saying 1 2 do you want me to say 3 you better do what I tell ya now. By then he would be crying and saying sorry for what ever wrong thing he had done . But the day is coming when he is going to be a smart mouth and say go ahead dad say 3 what are you going to do Im a blakbelt after all . then it really ought to get intersting .
My mom’s father used to do that pull over and turf them out trick - something easier to pull off in the country where she (and yours) grew up.
But I totally had to pay for a couple of things that I ruined not through malice but by just not thinking things through. It did make an impression, that’s for sure.
I love the idea of writing essays and binding them into a book.
And walking alongside the car? Genius.
Don’t feel bad, I’ve been threatening a ficticious “Officer Winters” for eleven years. I pick up the phone and say, “Hey, should I give Officer Winters a call, or are you going to stop kicking your brother?” Works every time.
And now, I can email him.
You are awesome. This is going into the file for use in about 10 years.
hehheheeheheheheheheehheh that is awesome!!!!!^_____^
That is the funniest story ever. You really have a way with telling ordinary events.
My husband got booted out of the car when he was a kid. He still remembers it. I think that Fric and Frac will be (temporarily) better despite the bravado they put on for you.
This is such good therapy. I’m sharing with my 42 year old daughter for her kids…I love it and so would my mom have approved…this was the best…
My best,
Dorothy from grammology
remember to call gram
grammology.com
Ahh, need good ammo? I have a 13 year old who knows when to quit. I threaten to show up at her school in my robe and slippers, or wearing curlers in my hair. I tell her I’m going to yell, “Honnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeey! Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeetie! Come and give your Mom her kiss! You forgot to give me my goodbye kiss this morning!” Basically, I think of the most awfully embarrassing things a teenager can imagine and do that.
I love it! I also make my kids write when they get in trouble. They HATE it. My daughter kept forgetting to take her recorder to school so I would have her write “I will not forget my recorder” 200 times each time. It happened 3 days in a row. On the 4th day she forgot it she came in from school and starting writing even before I told her to. She never forgot her recorder again.
I got spanked and I turned out just fine.
And, my Mom is almost 74 and I’m still scared of her.
Mann u scare me??!?! hehe.. dats really a mean thing to do..
my dad would have surely freaked on that 
We, too, got threatened with the wooden spoon. I think my brother got it, once. Smack. Ow!
OMG ~ I love this!! I’m going to use it as parenting advice and when my kids get bigger. I’m totally doing it. Teach them…