It’s the sentence that no kid wanted to hear.


As volleymom2 suggested in the previous thread: How about a topic of getting dirty lickens.  Back in the day there was no such thing as child abuse.  It was called Discipline.


jaydee wrote: My best memories of mom? The dirty ‘lickens she used to give us.


volleymom2 wrote: I remember getting lickens from mom, but also saying wait till your father comes home.. oh no…


Mark’75 wrote: Whenever I caught dirty lickens from dad, mom would calmly say those two most soothing words………YOU see?!!!!


Seawalker wrote: I think my mom was a baseball pitcher in her other life. One time, I got her so mad, she actually threw a loaf of bread at me. It was a strike. Right below the belly-button and above the crotch. Yowza, that hurt.  And thank goodness the loaf of bread was only King White size and not Sandwich size. :lol:


91boz wrote: I remember one time I had a brilliant idea and used her old style bamboo umbrella as a parachute to jumped off of the garage roof. Well I survived the jump but the umbrella didn’t. I just closed it and didn’t say anything. A few days later my mom and dad took the umbrella out on a rainy night and —ho had dirty lickins for that one.


I remember getting dirty lickens.  When I was doing something naughty, my mom would tell me to knock it off.  But I new she wasn’t serious – so I’d keep doing it like I didn’t even hear her.  A few more warnings and still I’d be carrying on – doing whatever it was that was irritating her.  Until… she opened the kitchen drawer, pulled out the wooden mixing spoon and slammed it on the counter.  Okay, now I know I pushed her to her limits – because that wooden mixing spoon was in arm’s length of me getting spanked.


Remember getting “the stick”?  I’m talking about the YARDSTICK.  And let me tell you young un’s that might be reading this.  Yardsticks back in the day wasn’t those flimsy City Mill kine you get at the Blaisdell Home & Garden Expo.  No sir-ee, Bob!  Yardsticks made in the olden days were solid planks of hardwood.  They were so thick that they even had a rivet drilled on each end so they would hurt even more!  Don’t believe me?  Check out this photo for contrast:


And remember doing the “arch”?  That’s when your father would stand you up and hold your arm raised up above your head and get ready to whack your okole with the thick wooden yardstick – and you would arch your back and stick out your front side forward as much as you could to try and pull yourself away from the hit.  It didn’t work…


I remember my dad had these yellow and white slippers that he wore inside the house.  A spank was only a foot’s reach away.


And if it was going to be a major whippin’ – dad would go to his room, pull off his belt from his trousers, and come after us.  Even though we ran to the farthest corners of the house, it didn’t matter.  In fact, I think it make it worse.


I used to be so terrified of “the belt” that one time I started crying before he even hit me.  And then he asks why I’m crying because I wasn’t the one who was going to be hit.  I was just being proactive.


As for mom, she was a softee.  I don’t think she ever spanked me.  Maybe because I knew to stop when I saw that wooden mixing spoon.  But my older brothers told me stories.  Like the time my mom hit my oldest brother with a wooden hanger and the hanger broke.  And he laughed at it.  Big mistake because the wire hanger that followed didn’t break.


For me, my mom would just say “You wait till your fadda comes home”.


How did your parents “discipline” you?  What was their weapons of choice?  What kind of things did you do to deserve to be disciplined?  Were you ever disciplined by someone other than your parents?