The Art of Whoopin'

When I was little, my mom would threaten me with a whoopin' for like...months, before the actual event happened. She would say, "If you do that again, I'm whoopin' you!" or "Let me find out you aren't doing well in school. Whoopin'!"

I don't remember getting very many whoopin's, however, the ones I got, I always felt were displaced. I felt like I got whoopin's for doing stuff that wasn't really "that" bad. Like my mom was just having a bad f'in day and decided to whoop me! Or slap me! Yes, I will never forget that great face slap of 89'. And the slap of 92'. Something about a slap that's damn right disrespectful...

I digress.

Being a mother, this morning, I had a Eureka about The Art of Whoopin'. Lil' K is a good child. I have NEVER (shockingly) whooped her. Her dad has popped her, her Mema has popped her, I've maybe tapped her hand once if anything, but I have never just all out spanked her behind. I try to talk to her and she's a really rational kid; so this typically works. And when things really get bad (which is rare) we do a time out.

Now, its not that I'm against a whoopin'. Because I think they are great and effective when done right. But I just have not felt the need to hand it out yet. The thing about the whoopin' is if you do it too much, it becomes ineffective and its power is taken away. I'm saving it.

But today, I felt my pressure boil and actually felt like...dare I say, giving her a whoopin'. She was being a Lil' B this morning. Super whiny, and rude, and blown because she had to get up and go to school. And I'm like, really, you are blown! After all I do for you. After bathing you, and changing you, and braiding your hair fabulously, and feeding you and allowing you to rip my belly open, you are going to have a tantrum today about your freakin' tag in your shirt. Really! That's how you feel about me! You little ungrateful....@#$@#$#!

Um, I didn't say any of those things. But I thought them. And then I had to laugh to myself and say...Oh. I get it. In her mind, 20 years later she would've thought I whooped her for her tag being a bother. In my mind I would've whooped her for being disrespectful and not complying with our morning routine, and whining, and how on school days she stays in the bed all morning but on the weekends she is at the side of my bed poking me in the eye at 6am and for...my belly (yes dammit that is a whoopable offense...I think).

I stopped and laughed at all the times I got slapped or whooped and realized that it was not about what I did that day. It was an accumulation of little kid bullshit. It was all the times combined that I had whined, and disobeyed, and back talked, and "but mommy'd" and been a jerk and the day that slap happened was the straw. I'm sure it really hurt my mom more than it hurt me (I always thought that was a load of crap). But really, now being a mom I get it. I try to keep the peace, use my words instead of my hands; but there are times when your tolerance is done son. When you think about all the f'in babies you have to deal with when you get to work. How your child has no concept of what you go through or what you feel, and they want to try you. Those times are when you need to step back. Take a 5. Walk away. Because even if in the moment you whop them, you are still going to feel bad about allowing a child to push you over the edge.

In my case, today, Lil' K did not get whooped. Because I'm just not there yet. But her punishment was not watching her DVD on the way to school. And she will be going to be at 7:30 tonight instead of 8 since she's so f'in tired in the morning.  My reward for not whoopin' will be...a whoopie pie from the Lobster Truck when it makes its way to my area this week.

And all will be right with the world.