You know, honestly? It was really hard. (Not deciding to not spank, dealing
with the situations.) Here is my story. (I'll try and keep it short.)
had a worse childhood than I so he was never too happy with the idea of
spanking to begin with.
I was one of those Moms who lightly slapped hands that got into a bowl of
food as it was passed by the child's seat. I would smack a bottom once with a
sharp NO upon finding a child climbing on a counter or getting to close to
the street, or any other transgression.
One day, Moly was just about three,
Jack was still a baby, and she was in the kitchen helping me. I told her to
get her stool and climb up so she could help. She just stood there, looking
at me. I couldn't figure out why, so I just repeated myself and said, "If you
want to help, you have to get up here, you are too small to reach even with
She just looked at me and, with tears in her eyes said, "But you
will spank me."
I had told her NO and spanked her for climbing so often (she
was a climber) that I had really put her little mind in a twist. She wanted
to help me, I wanted her to help, she had to get up to my level to help, but
had always gotten in trouble for being in the exact place I was telling her
to go to.
I made up my mind right then and there not to spank anymore. It
took a long time. Many times I would see her hesitate before doing something.
And honestly? I never ever thought that a smack on the bottom was any big
deal. I was hit with belts, spoons, paddles, once with a dog chain, once with
a rubber hose. I thought I was being a good parent.
From then on, I took lots
of deep breaths, I counted to ten, it was sheer will power to keep from doing
something that was so ingrained in me.
What happened about a year later? Jack
was two and ran out in the street, he was inches from being hit by a car, which
didn't stop, just kept speeding down the street. I ran after him, and just
started hitting. I must have spanked him six or more times. And hard enough
that even with a diaper, he felt it. I was crying, and yelling at him. I
shook from fright for an hour after. I went to the bathroom and my hair was
sticking up, I was sweaty and flushed. I looked like a mad woman. And my
little girl came in to me and said, "You hurt my baby! You said you wouldn't
hit me, why did you hit my baby?" I try not to think about that. But I did
it, and there it is. I hit Moly for just being a normal kid, and I came very
close to beating Jack because of my fear. So I take lots of time before I
even talk to my kids, because I was yelled at a lot as a child. And I just
remind myself of all the times I cried in my room after being hit and
thinking how much I hated my parents. Nancy