Spank My Kids? Why Should I?
When I first became a parent the biggest question I asked myself about spanking my children was, why should I? Perhaps you have an answer but it better not be because Jesus said so. I’m not buying that load of crap. The bible says you shouldn’t eat shellfish but I’ve seen you at the Red Lobster praying over your dinner. You’re not fooling me.
When my oldest was about two someone asked me if I spanked her. I was hurt and offended by the question. Why would anyone think I’d do that?
“I’m intelligent enough to manage a two-year-old without beating her into submission” I snapped back. Looking around I saw the faces of other parents. Some with children older than mine, some with grown children and I saw guilt and regret in their eyes. It reinforced my views even more.
The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Children do not stay children forever. How do you explain to your twenty-year-old that they were so bad you had no choice other than hurting them to make them behave? How can you justify teaching your children that they deserve to be hurt when they make a mistake? If you should never hit your kids when you’re angry, what kind of person hits their kids when they have a clear calm mind? How will you feel when your kids are hitting your grandchildren because that’s the only thing they know to do?
The fact of the matter is you do not have to hit your children. Some parents say you should spank young children if they try to run into the street or are doing something dangerous. I found that my panicked scream and firmly explaining the danger worked just fine. It was my job to watch them anyway. They were too young for that responsibility.
Some parents say spanking children makes them more responsible. I disagree strongly. Spanking removes any personal responsibility. You were wrong, you’ve been punished, go play. Instead try, you were wrong, go make it better, go play. Having them fix their mistakes builds responsibility. Spanking gives them an easy out.
But what about when kids are out of control and won’t behave at all? The few times that happened to me have been when I’ve expected too much from my children. If you mess with their naps, food, or comfort levels they go ballistic. They’re not adults. If it’s obvious they are tired, hungry, and over-stimulated don’t drag them to another store so you can get those new shoes on sale. Call it a day and take them home. Next time be more considerate of their needs and plan your day better. Yes, it will probably piss you off but you’ll get over it. You’re an adult. In a few years you’ll be the one whining to go home while your pre-teen tries on just one more shirt.
So far, I’ve managed to get through every single problem some parents say justify a spanking without spanking my children. It wasn’t easy and there were times I seriously questioned my decision. There were times I was so frustrated and angry that I almost hit them when I didn’t want to. But, I didn’t and I won’t. I don’t think I could say that now if I hadn’t made a firm decision from the start about not spanking.
I hope that one day all parents will take the time make that decision. I hope that all parents make that decision with a newborn in their arms, when the choice is obvious and not wait until their two-year-old spits peas in their face. It makes it a lot easier to make the right choice.
You can add your opinion or read other opinions on Spank Out Day and/or The National Day of Prayer at the Thinking Homeschoolers Project.
Filed under Me in a Blog Post | Comments (8)I’m Doing Alright
[Note: Something from the unpublished archives. I'm not sure when I wrote this but I'm guessing it was about a year ago because I was playing with a Shrek toy and Shrek the Third came out last May.]
“You aren’t much older than yur kids are yah?”
I looked up so see who said it and my eyes settled on the lumpy figure of an older man. He was sitting by the window near the drink fountain. The way he slurred his words and the splash of mustard down the front of his shirt made me think he wasn’t exactly sober. The TV show I’d watched about a serial killer that rode the railroad came to mind. We were near a railroad. I sized him up and decided he was most likely harmless.
“I’ll let you think it if you want.” I told him and smiled. We went to order our meals.
The memories of my days as the youngest mom on the playground came back to me. Moms my age were at work. The older moms (my age now) would quote childcare books and recite their parenting philosophies while I played with my kids. I always wanted to join them, but they would make me feel bad because I didn’t know to mix juice with water, or I refused to sit my kids in front of videos designed to increase their IQ. Dora and Bob were good enough for me. I had returned all the parenting books I was given, except the medical reference, and bought Dr. Seuss. At first I felt like a failure. For quite a while I was sure my kids would be totally screwed up. Then I became silently arrogant. I had thoughts like - Yeah, my kids aren’t fat, I don’t have to mix their juice with water. If my kids were as dim witted as that one, I’d be worrying about increasing their IQ as well. My kids are fine just the way they are. I started going to the playground in the evening when the fun moms and dads were there. The ones that laughed instead of shook their heads when I tripped while pushing the merry-go-round and went tumbling across the mulch.
I made myself stop thinking about that. That train of thought was not worth riding. Just in case the serial killer thing had some merit, I made sure we sat on the other side of the room. He left shortly after that but I didn’t see him leave.
I was too busy shooting trivia cards out of the head of a Shrek figurine. I was wiping ketchup off the face of my youngest. I was giving my daughter the mom face because she was slurping her drink on purpose, and I was resisting the urge to slurp mine back.
That drunk serial killer might not think I’m much older than my kids, but I’m doing alright I thought as I wiped the drip of ketchup off the front of my shirt. I’m doing alright.
Filed under Me in a Blog Post | Comment (1)He Was Singing Love Songs
I saw him. He was sitting on the other side of the room watching the game. There was something about the way his body moved. The sound of his voice. The softness in his eyes. I wanted him. I wanted to press my body hard against his. I wanted to hear him call out my name. I wanted to love him until he begged for mercy. I wanted to own him.
I stood against a wall drinking my rum and coke and watching him. He eventually looked up and noticed me. His eyes caught mine for a few seconds then with the guarded glance of a man that didn’t want to offend, he carefully checked out the rest of me. A little shiver of pleasure went through me when our eyes met for the second time. The look in his eyes mirrored my own. It was a look I haven’t seen for quite awhile. I’d almost forgotten. Suddenly feeling a little shy I looked away.
He looked back at the TV screen but he was only half watching the game. I turned to get another drink, a shot of confidence. I could feel him watching as I walked out of the room. My hips swayed just a little more than usual. I shook out my hair then glanced over my shoulder. Oh yeah, he was watching and he was liking it.
I returned with my drink and sat down beside him. We discussed the game but our hearts weren’t into it. Another drink and a short conversation later I reached out and lightly touched his knee. He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and his hand stopped just below my chin. I saw some uncertainty. I took his hand and kissed it. He leaned in closer to me. I don’t know how long we kissed because there was no more time.
I hesitated slightly as seventeen years, two kids, and some promises disintegrated. Another empty glass and I was young again. There were no mouths demanding to be fed. No laundry waiting in the hall. No mortgage payments, grocery shopping, dentist appointments…
The empty glasses on the table were a memory when he pressed me against the wall. I pressed back harder, pushing him against the opposite wall. He moaned softly when my hand went down the front of his pants. I’m not sure where we left our clothes. I fell asleep listening to the sound of rain on the roof and his heavy breathing. There were no regrets, only a feeling that I was more alive than I have been in a very long time.
I listened as he showered. Content happy sounds were echoing off the bathroom walls. He was smiling when he came in to tell me goodbye.
“I have to go. I’ll miss the train.”
I smiled and shook my breasts at him.
“I’ll try and come home early” he promised then paused for a second at the door. “We haven’t done that like that since…”
“The old green couch” I told him.
I heard him singing love songs as he walked out the door.
Filed under Cheez Whiz | Comments (8)Talk Dirty To Me
We’ve been busy getting my garden planted. I decided I wanted a real garden this year so we built three raised-bed planters and planted them.
Then I re-planted them. Twice. Damn Dogs!
I think the third time is the charm. We’ll see.
For some reason this is stuck in my head right now. Hence the title.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4qVJnhZwWY&hl=en]
I might have to go put something sweet in my oven. And try and forget that late 80’s spiral perm phase I went through. Then I’ll need to go write a letter to the paper about how children today are listening to far too many sexually suggestive songs.
Has anyone ever sang this song sitting in the back of a pickup using a beer bottle as a microphone because they just broke up with ‘the only man they’ll ever love’? Just wondering. I’ve heard it can happen.
Filed under Growing Something | Comments (5)I Didn’t Think She Remembered
When my youngest was about two and a half the Easter Bunny brought her a chocolate bunny that was filled with marshmallow cream. Instead of eating it like a normal child, she named the thing and carried it around with her. She made it nest out of plastic grass and fed it jelly beans. It was her new pet.
Back then we had a black couch. For some reason only she knows she put her bunny in the spot where I sit. Yes, I ended up sitting on her bunny. I didn’t know I had sat on it. Marshmallow cream is like glue and I have no idea how long I walked around with a mushed rabbit stuck to my rear-end. I would have remained oblivious the marshmallowy goodness attached to my ass if it weren’t for the panicked cried of “Mommy! My bunny! You killed my bunny!”
Needless to say she was traumatized. I felt really bad but I figured she was two, she’d forget all about it. I was wrong.
For some reason only she knows she left her turtle Webkin in my seat and I sat on it. Thankfully there was no permanent damage. It’s a stuffed animal. But then, out of nowhere, she brought up the chocolate bunny thing.
Now I’m really worried. I kinda thought the first three or four years were freebies. Yah know, they wouldn’t remember anything so if you messed up really bad you could just lie about it. Maybe seeing your chocolate Easter bunny smushed on your mothers’ backside is something a kid never forgets. I hope this is just a weird freak memory thing. Otherwise, I am so screwed.
Filed under Me in a Blog Post | Comments (6)Questions With No Answers
Here are a few of the things I have been thinking about today. I don’t think they have an answer. But they might. If you have an answer please feel free to share it with me.
What was I thinking when I decided to dump the un-popped popcorn kernels in the already running garbage disposal? (They came shooting back out like BB’s. I could have lost an eye.)
Is it wrong that I laugh every time this song comes up on random play? The last half of the song is what does it to me. Don’t play it around your kids! People II - The Reckoning : Andrew Jackson Jihad
Why do I have so many phone books?
Should I take my youngest to a counselor or is this some kind of political statement? If it’s a statement, what statement is she making? A shark eating the Easter bunny and a tootsie roll in a tea cup.
WTF? Where’s the nice weather?
