Daddy Don't Spank No More

Originally uploaded by Xiguli - Lisa




One of my favorite memories of me and my dad is the first and last time my dad spanked me. I know that sounds weird but let me explain.

I was, am and always will be daddy’s little girl, or baby girl as he use to call me. I loved spending time with my dad, watching TV with my dad, wrestling with my dad, working on cars with my dad, pretty much anything that involved my dad I loved to do, even if things I'd never do it alone (like watching Star Trek). My dad has an engaging laugh, a magical hug, impressive cognitive abilities, ambitious vision, eclectic interest, etc... He never tried to force his interest on me but just shared himself and the things he liked to do. My dad was offered a job in Texas and that’s why we moved down there. In Texas I learned how to get along with others, and one way was to try my best not to stand out. Don’t be the best dressed, but don’t be the worst either. Don’t be the teacher’s pet, but don’t get any F’s or D’s. I never was treated badly for being different, but I did not want to test the boundaries seeing that my skin color stuck out like a sore thumb.

I was a pretty smart kid and I liked learning, but I was scared that being labeled as a nerd was social suicide. Whenever someone, especially a teacher, put me on a pedestal or on the spot I quickly adjusted so that I could blend in again. I noticed early on in my life that I have the ability to take interest in just about anything. One thing I love my dad for is that he did not label or expect specific things from me. He introduced me to everything and stood back as I observed and decided for my self whether or not I wanted to try it out. He gets a lot of the credit for my interest in chess, football, books, math and anything else that could be perceived harshly by my critics.

Still I was a normal kid who loved to play. I especially loved to ride my bike. When I was 6 years old we stayed in a small two bedroom apartment. I was supposed to bring my bike inside every time I finished riding it; I didn't know why at the time but I assume it was to keep it from getting stolen. For some reason I would forget and leave it outside anyway. One day my father came home from work and saw that I again left my bike outside after several corrections. He was so calm when he instructed me to go my room. He sat down on my bed and told me why he was upset with me and gave the world famous “this is going to hurt me more than you” speech. I remember clearly that my dad barely touched my bottom as he spanked me, but I cried anyway.

He left my room and closed the door behind him. While perched on my knees right by the door, the gravity of what had just happened sunk in and I screamed at the top of my lungs, “HE DOESN’T LOVE ME ANY MORE!. HE DOESN’T LOVE ME ANY MORE! HE DOESN’T LOVE ME ANY MORE!” As a kid I hardly ever cried; in fact my mother jokingly calls me ice queen. Today was different. I just kept repeating the “he doesn’t love me…” mantra until my voice gave out. At the time, I knew without a doubt that the spanking hurt my heart WAY more than it hurt his. Now of course I have a different perspective. I was a 6 years old daddy’s girl and believe; it was no coincidences that my father never spanked me again.

Fast forward to me at 9 years old with a C on my report card and teachers commenting that they believe that I’m not living up to my potential. (Question - How do teachers know that?) I'm in my bedroom with my dad as he explains that I'm on punishment is becuase he expects me to give my best. During these lectures I’d present a stone face, but my heart felt ripped my heart to shreds explaining to me how disappointed he was in me. All I could remember thinking was, “I wish he would just spank me.”

Related Links:

The Stepmom Struggle

Eggs, Ice and Tears

Father's Nose is Best

Mommy Me and Moving

Originally uploaded by Airchinapilot

I spent time with my mommy. I am a grown woman but I still get excited to spend good quality time with my mom. We are both busy and have a hard time getting together even though we live about 20 minutes from each other. It does not seem that long ago that I my interest in college was based on the distance away from home. The further it was away from my mom the better. I can only laugh at myself now knowing that his is a just a normal part of growing up. I have always loved my mom and have nothing but nice things to say about her.

My mom was engaged to my dad when she was 17 years old. Her freshman year in college she made an doctor's appointment so start taking birth control pills, but during that appointment she found out that she was pregnant with me. My parents got married and moved into an apartment, and I was born. At my parent's were both 18 when they had me and as you can imagine times were hard. I'd like to think of myself as daddy's and mommy's little girl. I love my dad with all my heart, but I loved spending time with my mom. I loved watching tearjerkers with her, cooking with, gardening with her...anything she did I wanted to be right there.

I'm sure she would not agree. She tells me that the fist night that she brought me home I slept through the night, and was that way for the rest of my childhood. The first day she took my to school she tried her best to prepare me for what was going to happen. She would have to leave me with some very nice teachers but that she would pick me up and take me home everyday. She knew that I could not understand and worried that I would cry and beg her not to leave. So she took me to school and at the door reminded me that she would be back and I said, "okay mommy, see you later." I was so focused on playing with the other kids that I did not notice my mom crying in the doorway. Mom tells me about how she had to watch me like a hawk because I'd love everyone and she knew that I would leave with anyone who would have me.

As a teenagers it was sometimes difficult to be around her. I did not know how make my own decisions and I felt controlled by her; I knew that with a significant distance between us I would mature. That's the main reason why I wanted to go to a school in Alabama but only made it to Ohio. Not that far away from Michigan but it was the perfect distance. I'd visit home often but I was still able to make my own choices. This was great for us and she became my best friend. There was no longer tension in our relationship, instead I was call to talk about any and everything. For the first time I could openly talk about sex, school and secrets. Being friends with your parents is better than a peer relationship because she had already been and give great advice. I was able to trust her more because she seemed to respect me as a young adult. I loved to bring my friends home to her because I knew that nobody had a mom as cool, down to earth, smart or fun as my mom. I wanted to share the wealth and did so as she let anyone I befriended call her mom.

Now mom is talking about moving to another state to find a new job. I want her to go whenever she needs to go to find success, happiness and hopefully love but I don't want her to leave me. Though I don't see her as much I'd like to I know that she is always a phone call away. I find myself daydreaming about being able to by a mansion that can house my whole family, everyone having their own wing but a huge kitchen and living room so that we can all spend time together. I told my mom of my desire and she smirked and said I need to be at least a two blocks away from you. What a role reversal, my mom would not allow me to go to Alabama because it was too far away, now she seems open to moving to Canada. I feel like I miss her already even though she is still close to me.

Its A Family Affair- getting honest with grandpa

Sometimes I feel like a walking contradiction; one post is about how much my family loves me and the next comment expresses thoughts on being a disappointment to them. The thing is that I could not pick a better family, and they have not had a chance to see me shine yet. For instance I wish that I was closer to my grandfather. It is not a lack of love on either side, it is just that I find myself avoiding my family as a whole. Sometimes it is hard fro me to separate one persons opinion from the family unit. This is not good because I don't think certai8n people know how much I love them. In particular I don't talk to or see or my grandfather. So to fix that I tried to come up fool proof conversation that did not lead to the disappointing,"what are you doing with your life" talk.

My new plan to rebuild bridges was to plan out my conversations before I call people. I try to come up with something of mutual interest and try to gracefully end the conversation before it became too personal. Armed and confident I called my grandfather because I miss him so much. My grandfather answered the phone and was so surprised that I called the first thing that he asked me was "What wrong with you?" I was not at all prepared for that response and just said quickly that I wanted to talk about the current mayor. He said that he did not want to talk about that but obliged me anyway. He quickly explained his thoughts on the matter and asked me what I thought. I was not even prepared to give my opinion but I kind of mirrored what he expressed and did not now how to move to the next topic in a natural way. He asked me what was going on with me. After trying to appear as if I was really considering his question I said not much. He said "Come on, I hardly talk to you and you have nothing new to share?"


I know my grandfather is very smart; I tried to get over on him and he saw right through me. He knew what I was trying to do but I was hoping that since he is a man he would not question my avoidance; in fact a lot of men welcome it. I gave a quick blurb about working for my husband and tried to quickly and smoothly find my footing. I finally shared that I felt scared at the thought of disappointing him. I thought that saying that to him would hurt our relationship even more; instead it cleared the air for an honest and sincere conversation. He said that he'd gotten everything off his chest he needed to and that he just wanted to understand that my life was up to me.

I should believe this already but I needed every word. I needed to know that he loves me and always will and that I should not avoid him because I am the apple of his eye. He proceeded to walk me down memory lane of all the things he did for me and with me because he loves me. I have always know that my grandfather is special and that I'd be lost without him, but now I know that he feels that way about me too! I was trying to avoid disappointment but I instead I was avoiding love, support and the most important people in my life. Though I have felt disrespected by some, I have never felt that from my grandpa. Having him as my grandfather reminds me that I am intelligent, good natured, beautiful and dynamic because of my DNA.

Sly & The Family Stone - Family Affair (Live)

Have you ever disappointed someone who has unconditional love for you? How do you handle it? What do you do when someone you love disappoints you?

Eggs, Ice and Tears

Suicide...by Francisquini

I can remember sitting on a brown chicken egg. I know that sounds a little too strange but I was four years old. My teacher in preschool had an incubator with chicken eggs so that we could what them hatch. That was one of that was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. I've always been an animal lover; so to be able to take the place of a hen and birth a baby chicken would be a the best.

See I'm not an ice queen! Ice Queen one of several nicknames that my mother gave me that made me smile: Mickey Mouse, peanut , etc… I blame the nick name on the movie Brian’s Song, the highly esteemed 70s tear jerker. My mom bawled at the end of it and I did not share a tear and I guess she noticed. I was born and raised on home grown tomatoes and soap operas. I absolutely love high drama but never seemed to have the same reaction that my mother did. I thought it was cool that my mother cried at the end of Ice Castles, Imitation of Life and Terms of Endearment because I felt the emotion of those heart wrenching movies , but crying wasn’t a natural reaction for me. When I considered the fact that maybe my response was not heart felt enough my mind quickly chimed in, telling me that these were actors that were still alive and that I could enjoy the movie just as much as my mother without Kleenex.

I don’t remember crying that much as a child. There are only a couple of incidents I can remember, but my mom loves to recount this particular incident. Again I was about four and my mother was downstairs in the kitchen cooking dinner and I was upstairs watching TV in my parents’ room. All of a sudden she heard me scream and cry at the top of my lungs; she ran upstairs at top speed. When she burst in the room she found me sitting upright in front of the TV. Confused as to what could cause this outburst she asked me what was wrong? Struggling to catch my breath and slow down my tears I heaved until I could yell out, “Boomer doesn’t have a home!”, and I continued to cry.

Just a little background Boomer, much like Benji, was a movie about a dog that some how got separated from his family and was combing the streets alone without anyone to love him. The concern and compassion that drove my mother up a flight of stairs in a heart beat to save her daughter from a life and death situation immediately evaporated and was replaced with temporary disdain. She’d probably never seen me emote that much before in my entire life. She couldn’t help but to remember us sitting side by side watching Brain’s Song without one single expression of sorrow, but without effort or restraint I cried as if I'd been run over by a truck when watching a movie about a dog; he was still alive and had a guaranteed happy ending.

One day I opened the fridge and found a brown chicken egg. Since I thought all eggs were white I concluded that this egg had a baby chicken in it. I informed my mother of this fact; although she did not seem to agree she allowed me to take it upstairs to hatch it. So with two friends in tow I went out on the porch were it was warm a squatted down like a good chicken mom. I was pretty strong kid and had nice thigh muscles so I did not foresee any problem; I can’t remember how long I lasted but the story ended with a cracked shell and yolk spread out on the porch floor. Although I took the responsibility for not saving the chick I had matured since the Boomer incident. My mother’s reaction taught me that all lives are important, whether it’s as a fictional person or dog, or an unborn egg. So with grace and discernment I did not cry over spilled yolk but I rejoiced at my Christmas present that year (a puppy).

Thanks mommy for understanding me!

Please share some special stories about your childhood.

Peer Pressure from Grandma

Gummy Bear 365...,  by Gloomy Little Cloud

Peer pressure is a part of childhood. Kids want so badly to impress their friends that they will participate in activities that scare or make them uncomfortable. Can you remember those days, going to a party and being surprised by a circle of your friends passing around a joint? Going to a boy's house and being pressured to engage in sexual activity before your ready. Well I can, in fact I can remember the first time I felt peer pressure.

My family was a having a get together/party over my aunt's house. There are a few people in my family that have the title aunt or uncle or cousin attached to their name. So with such a huge family I'm not sure exactly I'm related to everyone but I kind of like it that way. I loved our family get together, they were so much fun. The kids would run around saying the darnedest things and the adults would sit around saying the darnedest things. I feel in the middle. In my family, due to my parents having me when they were young, there was no one that was in my age group. Most of the kids I could babysit and most of the adult conversation were monitored until they just felt the need to kick me out.

My grandma was the coolest; she always included me in the adult conversations. My grandmother always did whatever it took to make me laugh. She is funny, sweet natured and down to earth. I could talk to her about boys, the frustrations my parents caused me and about any hope and dream I had. She was the person that let me know that it okay to think for myself and to comfortably talk about mature subjects instead of pretending I was too young to know what people were talking about. At the party I was alone with grandma in the den; I stood and talked to her as she sat in a recliner, sipping an alcoholic drink. I could tell she was a little more smiley than usual but I would not go so far as to say she was buzzed, she defiantly was not drunk. So I was shocked when she motioned for me to come closer and then to take a sip of her drink.

Confused and flustered I furrowed my brow and said "No grandma". She said come on just a little sip, no one will no. I couldn't believe my ears. I think I was 15 at the time. I had a few friends that started drinking, even a couple of friends in middle school that brought liquor to school, but they never offered me any. As a kid I thought that you should do what your elders tell you to do, but I also believed at 15 I should not drink. And why was she offering this to me anyway. Was this just a trick to see if I would give into pressure? I was a little curious about how it would taste and how it would make me feel. Adults always seemed to have more fun when they started drinking. Still I knew that it did not make since for me to drink, even a sip. I felt uncomfortably rebellious but still persistently I told my grandmother no, kissed her cheek and walked away.

I have to tell you that I felt so proud of myself for that. When I was 16, I went to a party and the kids were drinking. Instead of drinking I danced and enjoyed myself. I also look at the way everyone's behavior changed when they started drinking. One image engrained in my mind was of a girl in a tight dress. She was dancing with a boy that was standing behind her, grabbing her ample bosoms and lifting them up and down to the beat. I was no angel but thought that was a bit much for me. Still no one pressured me to drink. The first time I felt pressured wasn't until I was 18; I was hanging out with some friends and every there was drinking and smoking weed, everyone except for me. My friends tried to talk me into drinking but I did not feel any desire to impress anyone. I was having just as good of at time as everyone else; in fact some people thought I was drunk because I was so silly. Because I abstained I was able to be there for my friend, holding her hair back when she got sick to her stomach. I was also able to say no to sex with my ex. I t felt great to able to go home that night guilt free and tell my mom that I had a good time without feeling like I was lying to her.

Again I'm no angel. I did not make it to the legal drinking age, but I did wait until I was 20 years and 7 months old. When I found out that I could drink without losing all self control all bets were off and I drank more than I should have, but I'm proud that I waited so long. I truly believe that because my grandma pressured me first I was able to deal with peer pressure. I've never asked her what her motivates were that day but regardless of her intentions I give her the credit for helping me think under pressure and avoid addiction that griped a few of my friends that stared indulging too soon. You may not agree with my grandma's actions but you'll have to take my word for it, that her love is intense and that she always has my best interest at heart. Besides, cookie cutter grandma's are over rated, I'll take my peer pressure grandma any day.

How did you deal with pressure when you were a kid?