CSotD: My pop just bought a hairbrush and he’s bald
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Vic Lee touches on a pet peeve with only a little bit of exaggeration in today's "Pardon My Planet."
It's nearly impossible to defend spanking, though most parents's feelings on the topic are similar to the old Irish saying about fairies: "I don't believe in them, but they're there."
Anyone who believes in spankings is a barbarian. But, still, they are there.
I remember a phone call from a non-spanking friend, back when we were both home raising children, in which she confessed with horror that her mischievous five-year-old son had come up with something really annoying and she *tokked* his head with the wooden spoon she happened to have in her hand at the moment.
It's not like he collapsed on the floor screaming in pain. But he grabbed his head, yelled "Ow!" and gave her a "what the hell was that?" look, which was enough to send her into paroxysms of guilt. And if you've ever been in a paroxysm, you know how bad they can be. It's a lot worse than being smacked on the top of the head with a wooden spoon.
Ah, parenthood! A neverending cascade of things we promised we'd never do to our children!
One of the things I've learned in the 30+ years since Anita smacked her kid with the spoon is that we cringe at the memory of things our kids don't remember we did to them, while they harbor in the dark recesses of their hearts festering memories of things we forgot ever happened.
And, while comedy requires exaggeration and I don't know anyone who quite went to the extreme in today's cartoon, I have always maintained a healthy contempt for the parents who fastidiously and self-righteously avoid the open-handed single smack on the breeches in favor of keeping their children in line with demented psychological torture.
One of the things I swore I'd never do, for instance, was to threaten to leave a dawdling child behind at a store. I remember fear of separation and it's not a fair weapon when you know it isn't going to really happen but your four-year-old does not. And it's not an effective weapon once he does.
And then, of course, I found myself saying, "Well, you can stay if you want to, but we're leaving …"
Better to smack him with the spoon. Good clean action with no psychological implications. Either way, the kid knows he pissed you off. The question is, are you making him think that he's done it to a permanent and irredeemable extent?
I don't specifically remember being spanked by my father, but I'd be a little surprised — given the times and my own personality — if it didn't happen. In fact, I'm quite sure it did happen, and more than once. I just don't remember a specific instance, which is my point.
What I do remember is that, on the occasions we clashed, things would explode and then I would be ordered to my room, or would retreat there on my own, and I'd have a bit of a cry, but I'd also be listening for his footsteps on the stairs, knowing that, after he gave it a few minutes, he would come up and talk it through with me.
What I only realized as a parent was that he wasn't simply waiting for the lesson to sink in, but was getting a grip on his own emotions and probably feeling as lousy about it as I did.
Explosions of anger are different than withdrawals of love. As angry as my parents and I got at each other from time to time, and whether those moments involved the seat of my pants or not, they were over in a box called "temper" and never came near the box labelled "love."
There was never a moment when I didn't know exactly what was going on, though I would have to become a parent before my analysis coalesced into a bemused realization of what — wit' all due respect — a mouthy little shit I really was. Which is to say that I had to experience trying to maintain my own parental equipoise with my own boys before I realized the extent to which little people can push your buttons.
Which brings us to the "alternatives to spanking" psychological warfare issue. Just as there is absolutely no excuse for the three-hours-later wait-until-your-father-gets-home spanking, there is also no possible justification for calculated punishments that involve the cold-hearted threat of withdrawal of love.
There's an excuse: Repressed rage.
But that's the same excuse that applies to people who beat their children. And there's a big, big difference between looking back and finding explanations for things you wish hadn't happened, and looking back to find excuses.
Explanations reset the scales at an even tilt. We may not either of us be proud of what happened, but we understand how it came about and we can shrug it off as inevitable if regrettable.
Excuses, however, bring about no such sense of balance. They are painful scars that, in their turn, leave more scars.
Now, to take the edge off what started as a joke and morphed into a real downer, here's the source of today's headline, and a fondly-remembered tribute to healthy, unrepressed rage:
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