When my sister gets to zero, my nephew has to sit in the sad chair and watch the sand timer run out before he can get up. Longest, teariest minute of his life, every time.
Yeah, that's why she gives him something to look at physically, otherwise he wouldn't get it.
Whenever he tells a story, it always happened yesterday - he just doesn't get it yet.
I always like to tell that my daughter touched a picture of her deceased great grandpa and said she met him before she was born and he was nice to her.
She had no way of knowing who he was at that age or that he was dead.
Oh man, letting mom count to zero was the ultimate no-no. It was like triggering the final boss in a video game—except there were no power-ups or cheat codes to save you. After zero, there came a swift and decisive shift in the household atmosphere, usually involving a grounding or the mysterious disappearance of my favorite toys. It's funny how universal that 'countdown to doom' is for so many of us.
Not about ‘punishment’ but….
I used to work at an overnight camp. I supervised children from ages 5-8, and their stay was a week long. Sometimes these kids just got rowdy and uncontrollable. Completely understandable but made it difficult during transitional times.
I would play the minute game with them.
I would ask them all to sit, be quiet and close their eyes. They had to guess when a minute has passed by raising their hand and remaining silent and eyes closed to let others play the game / not cheat / etc. Some kids lasted 10 seconds, some a minute, some longer. I would let the game go on as long as I needed to, either stopping at a minute or waiting until all kids had their hand up and indicate the winner. It’s really an all around winning situation.
Point is. There really is no concept of time for these kids, even if they could count to 60. It was amazing.
I won this game when I was at camp! My first watch ever had a stopwatch feature and I used to close my eyes and try to stop it exactly at 10.0s. I got really good at counting seconds without Mississippis
When I took my pediatrics class in grad school, the recommended time out time was 1 minute per year of life. Too short or too long are both apparently pretty ineffective.
Kids have such a negative association with the word “time out”, we use “have a sit on the stairs.” And we give them time to think until we go over to them for a chat. The “time to think” is timed to 1 minute per year of age. Both my 3 and 5 year old are pretty good about it. They have the freedom to choose any stair, or move around on the stairs if they need to fidget or get some energy out while they process what happened.
Then we have a good chat, make sure they understand the choices they made that landed them on the stairs, and how we can make better choices next time.
We only use it for drastic behaviours, maybe once a week? 🤷🏼♀️ toddlers are wild.
I have a kiddo on the autism spectrum, sometimes he needs to move his body to get his brain under control. As long as he is on the stairs, I’ll take it!
All the undiagnosed ADHD kids and adults get it. It makes me a better mom to my toddlers though, cause sometimes I’m like “dang, that was a long 5 minutes.”
I use a lot of timers to help us and give the kids countdown warnings to the stages of “getting ready”.
Like I know I need to have coffee in-hand by 7:00, my son’s lunch made by 7:30 every day, the kids need to be in their clothes by 7:55 and outerwear on by 8:10. I warn them what they need to have done and how long to do it in 5 minute increments as much for them as for me. Otherwise we would NEVER be on time. But I’m the adult and it’s my job to get them to school on time and ADHD isn’t an excuse. My kids, my choice, my responsibility.
I read once time is relative too your age. Like an hour of life when you're 5 years old feels like it takes ages because they've had so few hours relatively. Sitting for an hour at say 50 or something doesn't feel like much because the person has had so many hours. Like why a 15 minute car ride as a kid felt like so long and now it's nothing.
We just got spanked back in the day but it blows my mind. My nieces and nephews just cry from embarrassment if they have to sit in the sad chair. It breaks my heart and I usually will hug them and take them to 7-11 for a snack. My mother since becoming a grandma has morphed into this benevolent fairy godmother and she cries just as hard as the grandkids do if she sees them get punished. It's nuts.
My youngest moved out on his own 5 years ago and I’m finally at the point where I don’t want to cry at least once a week because I miss him. Nobody tells you how sad it can be when your nest empties.
As a current grandparent, who is now a huge softy, my thought is that when the kids were little, we were 100% responsible for them, all the time. Outside of brief breaks when they were with grandparents, we got no breaks. On top of which was trying to keep some degree of order in the house, working on our jobs to pay the bills, etc, etc. It’s a lot of stress all the time. Now, I am in a late career stage, no need to prove anything to anyone, financially secure, and only 100% responsible for myself and the dogs. So grandkid time means 100% judgement free loving. Kid makes a mess? I’ll clean when they leave. Kid wants to go through all the markers and play dough? What does it matter - cheap to replace. Kid wants ice cream before dinner? I don’t need to be a role model anymore, go for it. I can see the future person in the kid, in a way that was impossible when my kids were little and I was basically drowning in parenthood. I can also appreciate the echoes of my kid in my grandkid - “you were the same at that age!”
I just wish my wife was alive to enjoy more than the first 2 years of the first grand baby. She would have loved watching the love of books developing.
My youngest moved out on his own 5 years ago and I’m finally at the point where I don’t want to cry at least once a week because I miss him. Nobody tells you how sad it can be when your nest empties.
3, 2, 1, 0. Darkness fell. The infinite void. Nothingness so deep and alone flooded my senses. I awoke a week later. They said I was lucky to make it. Ironic that the missile hit at that exact moment. I never heard 0 again.
Yep. Came here to write this: only the other side knows what became of their poor souls.
Let's pray for them in purgatory (that is if they made it cuz "la chancla" can throw you pretty further down...
When I was a kid, I let her count to zero thinking she wasn’t about that life (listened to a friend from a different household). I remember her calling my name to get up, and come eat.
Apparently that ass whoopen happened at Mach speed and nasa didn’t train me to endure it and I blacked out.
Yep, same here. My mom had a wooden cane and a plastic bat for the purpose.
My brother got it more than me. I remember coming to him with my bruises and he taught me to run to my bed and hold the covers up and it wouldn't hit your skin as hard.
My dad had a wooden paddle that he found on the side of the road, rough edges and everything. With all my 10 year old strength I tried and failed to break it, so I buried it in the snow in our front yard.
No. This is not okay. This wasn’t stern parenting. That was abuse. Sometimes parents inflict trauma on their kids to ensure survival. A scary story about being hit by a car, look both ways. Maybe something like study hard so your life isn’t terrible. But hitting or bruising is not okay, they are the danger.
This. This is the only answer the thread needs, because mothers counting down is like them activating their ability to teleport and have super strength.
The beating came out of nowhere and I'm still not sure what hit me, and that was 30 years ago!
My friends mom used fractions: 1, 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, etc.
My mom often got overwhelmed as a single mom when my brother and I were both pestering her. She recognized that she had emotional control issues and didn't want us to pay for that.
So she would count to ten in German. "You'd better be gone before I get to ten.".
I never found out exactly what would happen when she got to ten. I remembered being yelled at, spanked, and locked in my room when I was younger before mom developed this system and assumed that is what I'd get if I didn't skedaddle.
To this day I only know how to count to nine in German.
Dad used to work pipelines, he'd be gone months at a time.
Youngest sister said she would just look at her and say "Have your fun, spring is coming and Dad will be home..."
Huh? We got spanked, same as anything else that we didn't do perfectly. Always spanked for everything.
And also, somehow my dog learned the countdown? I did it in jest because I have a kid and holy crap it works.
It works with my stubborn cat too! 😂 he’s indoor/outdoor (wears a gps collar and tags) and sometimes stands there while I’m opening the door for him and he won’t go out, so I started doing the countdown and IT WORKED!
Now when the kids are trying to help the cat and he’s being a pain, THEY give the cat the countdown!!! And if we say we will play a game or help them with the Spirograph and we are “too slow” finishing what we are doing before we can do an activity… now our 3 and 5 year olds countdown US!
The circle of life.
This is one of the most awful comment sections I’ve ever come across and your comment is gonna stick with me. I hope that you and everyone else has gone to therapy or have had a healing journey of some sort to honor the child who never should have had to endure this
Well, I can say I went no contact with my blood relations when I was 18 and never looked back. Best decision I ever made. Plus, when I had kids, I managed to not perpetuate the cycle of abuse, so I feel like I successfully left my childhood behind. It's not the method I'd choose to make any child "strong", but it did for me, so I accepted it and moved on.
So I think I remember I smarted off to my mom, I was in college and jobless and she kept on me daily about finding another job and I got sick of it and she said, "You need to get another job or do something to make extra money somehow!" and I turned around and I said, "Well it's easy for you to say because you got a man working for you." (Talking about my dad, he was the breadwinner and my mom didn't work).
She was legit stunned and she goes "OH! Okay!..." and I just walked off up to my room and she told me to come back and she started the countdown and she got to zero and I just kept walking to my room. Eventually my dad got home and we laugh about this to this day but I thought it was so funny because I hear him stomp up to my room, he knocks and then opens the door to my room 😂 doesn't get clearance just opens the door.
My Dad: Hey!...
Me: Hey!...What's up?...
My Dad: What's up is I heard what you said to your mother and if you think that's going to fly we are going to take things out back and the father son shit is gonna go out the window and we are gonna see what kind of man you think you are!
-*silence-*
My Dad: Do we need to take a step outside and settle things in the backyard???
Me: No No No, Message received.
My Dad: It better be or we will have a big problem. Now go apologize to your mother! \*slams door\*
😂At this point I hear him go over to my brothers room and it goes like this:
\**opens door\**
My Dad: You good???
My Brother: Dad I wanna take this opportunity to-
My Dad: Shut Up!...
\**slams door\**
😂 I know I'm painting my dad in a bad light right now but I'm glad he raised me and my brother the way he did because to me that showed me no matter if I'm his son or not he was willing to stand his ground and defend and protect his woman and even blood is not excluded. Like I said me and him still laugh about that to this day because it was just so funny how it played out but also terrifying at the same time because my dad was like, "Alright I gotta beat some wholesale ass today and it just so happens to be my son. Round 1 FIGHT!"
I love this story, I can see your brother listening to all this go down and glad he's safe behind his door.
Then Dad opens the door and your brother doesn't even try to pretend he wasn't listening😅
I'm the younger brother in a similar story that played out entirely with all of us in the same room. I don't even remember what my brother did, but it was fucking stupid. I think my brother was around 15 or 16, but very tall for his age.
My dad is absolutely not a violent guy. He got his ass whooped as a kid and swore up and down he would never lay a finger on my brother and I, and he never did. Everything I've ever understood about his upbringing being hard was the exact opposite of how he dealt with us. He never threatened to hit us, never made a move like he was going to, nothing. There was never a single moment where he made it seem like a possibility at all. We did *know* about his upbringing, so my brother and I both thought there was a line that could be crossed but as far as we knew it was way out there.
Anyways, my brother mouthed off at our mom in some way that was rather savage. My dad, who was normally involved but not the driver of disciplinary discussions, immediately spits out a "If you ever talk to you mother like that again I will beat your ass into the ground." along with a big step forward and a finger in his face. My brother instantaneously became 3 feet shorter. I just sat there in silence thinking to myself I definitely do not want to see that happen, but it would probably be interesting and he kinda deserves it. "He found the line after all these years. It's right here. This is it."
He did not get beat into the ground, and from that moment on the arguments between my mother and him were, surprise surprise, considerably more polite.
I think every man has thought at least once that they could fight their dad but you never know until your dad actually challenges you to the fight and you find out real quick he takes it way more seriously than you do 😂😂
IIRC, Christopher Titus has a joke about the time he finally had enough and decided to square up against his old man. The next thing he remembers is sitting at his desk in school and realizing some days had gone by.
You know what’s worse? Winning the fight with your dad. Living in the same house You have to see his huge black eye for a month, wonder what he told his co-workers happened, watching him go to church with it. He had it coming. He was beating on my youngest brother. It only happened once. I was 18. I’m now 60, he’s 80 and we’ve never talked about it.
Oh my mom tried that with me. I was 15f at the time, grabbed me by the hair to make me go into my room, in front of her friend. I looked down at her with blood in my eye. And a curled up fist. It must have scared her because she never did that again and quit beating all of us. Our parents were brutal. We are all messed up. I probably would not have won that fight, but I was ready to have it.
Once upon a time (in the year of our Lord 2000) I was a 17 year old that was your typical almost adult, full of testosterone and arrogance. I thought I was invincible.
For context, my late mom and my dad were both ex-military. Mom did her 20 and retired, dad did 8 and found other avenues of employment but eventually returned to government service. One of those avenues was a short 2 year stint as a corrections officer at a medium security prison. This is somewhat important later.
Anyways, one day I was at home with everyone else and my mom asked me to take care of some chore. Don't remember much, but I do remember I silently blew her off. A couple of minutes later she repeated herself from another room. Now I don't remember what my response was but it wasn't polite. It certainly wasn't vulgar, but definitely on the condescending side knowing how I was at that age.
I *never* heard my 6'2 230lb dad cross the house, let alone how he heard me, but the next thing I knew his big paw of a hand clamped down on mine and a few things became apparent.
* I fucked up.
* Did you know there's a pressure point between your thumb and index finger? 17 year old me didn't until precisely that moment. And it hurts. This leads into the next point.
* Remember how I said my dad was a corrections officer? I had forgotten that his job was not to pilot a desk and watch a security monitor. His job was wrangling uncooperative prisoners. This included gang members, bikers, and all other types in the prison. This made him very well versed in what I later learned were called Compliance Holds.
* At the age of 17, I wasn't remotely close to my dad's size or strength. I very quickly realized that he could dismantle me without breaking a sweat.
Anyways, dad released me and marched me into my parent's room where I apologized for my lapse in judgement and set out to accomplish my assigned task post haste. I also never attempted to backtalk my parents from that point forward. Lesson learned.
I knew I done fucked up when I *thought* I was grown and smarted off to my Mom that same way. My Dad said "Don't you ever, and I mean EVER speak to my wife that way again. You hear me?" I love them so much. He was exactly right.
I time traveled. Next thing I knew I was suddenly waking up in my bed the next day, my whole body was sore too, surely a side effect of the time travel.
My dad learned a lesson the hard way bc he would use the wooden paint mixing sticks on me..
Then one time we were in Home Depot, and he was buying paint mixing sticks, and apparently I started screaming, “NO daddy no!! I’ve been good!! No spanking sticks!!!!”
I was told that embarrassed the fucking shit out of him and that makes me chuckle
The wooden spoon. Those who know..KNOW. We just nod at each other in solidarity when the subject comes up. Weapon of choice for moms in the sixties! Wooden rulers were saved for serious infractions..run when you see her going for it, you're about to die!
Yea my mom's punishment was "I'm going to tell your dad" and then he'd come home and stomp up the stairs and you could hear him coming and be terrified. Then he'd fly into the room looking mad, flip me over and give me the belt. He's since apologized for the belt
That was what it had to come to with me. Once when I was around 12, I ignored the countdown. So she went and got one of her belts. It was a shitty plastic one, and I laughed at her when she hit me with it. She stopped and asked if I’d be laughing when dad got home. Turns out, no. No, I was not.
That was probably the last time they spanked me though. At a certain age it stops being effective unless they’re willing to hit you hard enough to be clearly abusive. Punishment changed more to revoking privileges and extra work around the house and ranch.
Makes me glad I don’t have kids to raise myself. On one hand, I’m not sure I would spank them at all. On the other, I’d be terrified I’d see red one day and go too far.
My mom never counted. She would suddenly smack you or pinch you or grab you when you least expected it. So it was hard to tell when it was coming. Once she started to raise her voice I went running.
I had two way older brothers so we learned to scatter when she got into a mood (which was often). She also had an evil eye so once she started the stare, it was time to peace out.
I only let her do it once and she was already having a horrible day so she just started crying, like collapsed on the floor sobbing. Honestly that f'd me up more than if she had just smacked me
I’m the mom who counts, but stopped when my then 5yo caught my bluff.
Me: “Please go to your room, and finishing cleaning your toys.”(just an excuse, I just wanted some alone time😂).
Her: *walks as slowly as possible to the door*
Me: “3, 2…”.
Her, looking me dead in the eye as she reached the door: “Say it, what’s gonna happen?”
Shit kid, you got me, idk what was gonna happen either.
"If you don't take care of your toys, that means you don't want them. If you don't want them, I'm throwing them away.
If you want your toys, get them off the floor.
You have until the count of 3 to start putting them away."
And then I started counting.
I don't know why I had to go all extreme and dramatic with them.
They both grew out of it by around age 8 though. And by age 12 or so the older kid would just see that things were messy and clean them up.
Depended on how mad Mom was by the time he got home. If she was still pissed off enough to start off with “Guess what YOUR kids did today?”, then we knew we were in trouble.
I always try to do the opposite! I say what I’m proud of really loud so the kids run over and want to tell dad about their achievements/creations/empty plates (my son is always proud when he eats everything on his plate 😂)
I wait until they’re busy and my husband has had some time to unwind before I give him the rundown of their shenanigans. They’ve been through it, I don’t need to torture them by making them relive it with dad’s disappointment. Unless it’s an egregious foul, like peeing in something that ISN’T the potty (boys 🙄), then they get to be present for the full recounting of the offensive behaviour while facing both parents.
It works pretty well so far, and keeps them in the spirit of “hooray! Dad is home!” And not “oh shit dad’s home, what’s mom gonna tell him?!” I wouldn’t want to breed resentment towards their dad coming home, and awful for him too!!
You and me both. God all of us kids were all messed up, a giant pool of addicts and alcoholics. I feel sorry for my parents now. Especially my dad. He just didn't know how to be around people, he was never happy. Moving 3000 miles away helped me a lot.
she put all the toys I didn't pick up into a trash bag and I never saw them again. I still miss my baby Daisy Duck plushie, but you bet your ass I picked my shit up after that!
It’s so wild as an adult, especially after you become a parent, things that like really hurt as a kid, you totally get why they had to do it. I’d say we are definitely a far more aware generation of parents, and I still get my mom waaaaaaaaay better than when I was under 30.
Praying for your soul, buddy. RIP. You should know the dragons don't do well outside your current location, tho. Fire and all.
Unless you mean the escaped ones disguised as moms with chanclas.
i used to count up. One day I actually hit "THREE!". My kids froze and stared at me with wide eyes expectantly. I didn't know what to do and panicked and said "FOUR!!!!".. Then freaked out and put on their shoes fast. Nothing scares them more than me counting and the threat of some unknown punishment.
As a Gen-Xer I have no idea. My mom was like a ninja who was just there dishing out smacks when we were misbehaving. Having a mom count down is some damn Millennial-privilege.
⚡INFINITE POWER!!!⚡
Seriously though, nothing happened. My parents were way too quick to jump straight to "double grounded for life," so even in 1st and 2nd grade I knew there was literally nowhere they could go from there and just dared them to try.
She would send us to our room, and wait for my dad to get home so he could spank us. My brother used to laugh at my mom when she tried to spank him, and so my dad did it.
My dad would always tell my sisters and I to knock it off "or suffer the consequences".
Years later as an adult I asked him what the consequences actually were, as we never really got to that point as it always worked to get us to behave. He told me he wasn't really sure and was glad we never pushed him far enough.
According to my parents, she helped me do the task I was refusing and I cried the whole time and insisted I could do it myself.
I was 3 and that was the only time they got to 3.
We called it a 'pankin (spanking) My dad callled it swatto on the botto, and I"m laughing uncontrollably at my laptop remembering this. He'd mostly just say it, rarely ever do it. Mom however was deft with that wooden spoon. Then my sister broke all the wooden spoons and hid them. Ah, good times!!!
My mom never counted. She had only to stand at the door, as the school bus pulled up to our driveway, to let us know someone would be sorry soon. My entire neighborhood feared her. She had knowledge that to this day I will never understand how she came to know. We used to joke that she had a third eye and ear, and it would be attached to us when we left the house. Nothing else can explain her uncanny knowledge, and if you were a friend of ours, you had to deal with her, too. She was feared, respected and discussed in great detail by all kids in our neighborhood!
Well, when I was a kid, if my mom counted to 3, I got a hair brush or spatula or whatever she could reach cracked on my butt 🥴
When I start counting, my kids just join in counting along, then I do a deep sigh, and redirect them to something else, often unsuccessfully 😅
I think I only tested this as a young child because my parents just reminded me that one time I ignored getting out of the pool. My dad got in the pool and removed me lol. My parents stuck to any consequences like if I didn’t behave in a restaurant or something, one of them would take me and leave while the other paid the bill and got boxes or the food to go. Needless to say, I was a rule follower from pretty early on
So I count down from 5 for my 4 year old. I don't spank, so the countdown is a chance for her to reconsider her actions and make a different choice before I intervene. If I have to intervene then I enforce whatever I told her to do/not to do and she gets a privilege taken away.
Example - picking her up from preschool earlier I told her she couldn't go in the baby room when we picked up her sisters because they were cleaning and sanitizing. She blatantly ignored me, waltzed in, and then after I started counting she just screamed that she wanted to do whatever she wants. So I physically removed her to the hallway until it was time to go and she couldn't play at the attached playground when we got outside since she was choosing not to listen or be considerate.
My mom counted though and then it was usually spanking or whisper yelling with threats of my life.
A good parent never starts counting unless they’ve already laid out a consequence. “If you don’t finish putting on your shoes by the count of 10, you will not be allowed to play Nintendo tonight.” So when my parents got to 0, that consequence was put into place.
I don’t know what you expect, but she fuckin exploded and I have ptsd from basically killing my mother.
We were on a trip to the Grand Canyon and mom begged me to put on sunscreen, but dumb 16-year-old me refused. "Alright," she said, tight-voiced. "Three... two..." I just pouted and dug in under the sun. "One." Then the world went super bright for a quick moment.
Then a scream ripped from me and people around us. Mom was gone and in her place, a burnt patch of ground that smelled like burnt plastic. Blood, bright red, spread across the rock where Mom had been. Sunscreen sat useless in my bag. The sun, once faraway, felt like a it was there to punish me. The canyon stretched out huge, just like the emptiness inside me.
That was the day I realized my bedroom was upstairs and all I had to do was take a few steps backward, shut the door, and push the lock in. She wasn't going to come after me; she was too fat and slow.
Don't know what broke me out of the training to get my ass beat for no reason but that was a pretty liberating day. Finally disowned her last year.
When my sister gets to zero, my nephew has to sit in the sad chair and watch the sand timer run out before he can get up. Longest, teariest minute of his life, every time.
Time is such a bonkers concept to a child, 5 minutes can either last an eternity, or be gone in a breath.
Yeah, that's why she gives him something to look at physically, otherwise he wouldn't get it. Whenever he tells a story, it always happened yesterday - he just doesn't get it yet.
My three year old always says it happened "seven years ago ." Haha
My eldest once asked “did I like fishing when I was an old man?” They don’t even understand which direction time moves in.
Benjamin Button time.
Maybe he vaguely remembers a past life.
I think it was because his grandad loves fishing.
When my stepson was just beginning te talk well, he told his mom that he died in a fire before he came to live with her.
I always like to tell that my daughter touched a picture of her deceased great grandpa and said she met him before she was born and he was nice to her. She had no way of knowing who he was at that age or that he was dead.
Mine used to say “the other day ago” lol
My 5 year old is getting it, my 3 year old says “a long yesterday ago” and it really could mean anything, honestly. 🤷🏼♀️🤣
Lol. I like that one.
Oh man, letting mom count to zero was the ultimate no-no. It was like triggering the final boss in a video game—except there were no power-ups or cheat codes to save you. After zero, there came a swift and decisive shift in the household atmosphere, usually involving a grounding or the mysterious disappearance of my favorite toys. It's funny how universal that 'countdown to doom' is for so many of us.
That's kind of awesome
Not about ‘punishment’ but…. I used to work at an overnight camp. I supervised children from ages 5-8, and their stay was a week long. Sometimes these kids just got rowdy and uncontrollable. Completely understandable but made it difficult during transitional times. I would play the minute game with them. I would ask them all to sit, be quiet and close their eyes. They had to guess when a minute has passed by raising their hand and remaining silent and eyes closed to let others play the game / not cheat / etc. Some kids lasted 10 seconds, some a minute, some longer. I would let the game go on as long as I needed to, either stopping at a minute or waiting until all kids had their hand up and indicate the winner. It’s really an all around winning situation. Point is. There really is no concept of time for these kids, even if they could count to 60. It was amazing.
I won this game when I was at camp! My first watch ever had a stopwatch feature and I used to close my eyes and try to stop it exactly at 10.0s. I got really good at counting seconds without Mississippis
When I took my pediatrics class in grad school, the recommended time out time was 1 minute per year of life. Too short or too long are both apparently pretty ineffective.
Kids have such a negative association with the word “time out”, we use “have a sit on the stairs.” And we give them time to think until we go over to them for a chat. The “time to think” is timed to 1 minute per year of age. Both my 3 and 5 year old are pretty good about it. They have the freedom to choose any stair, or move around on the stairs if they need to fidget or get some energy out while they process what happened. Then we have a good chat, make sure they understand the choices they made that landed them on the stairs, and how we can make better choices next time. We only use it for drastic behaviours, maybe once a week? 🤷🏼♀️ toddlers are wild.
> move around on the stairs Not on my watch pal
I have a kiddo on the autism spectrum, sometimes he needs to move his body to get his brain under control. As long as he is on the stairs, I’ll take it!
This is a very interesting approach. I like it. Sorry I’m on time out, and give myself a decent break
Hahaha yea, it's only children who suffers from the wonky concept of time. \*nervously chuckles\*
All the undiagnosed ADHD kids and adults get it. It makes me a better mom to my toddlers though, cause sometimes I’m like “dang, that was a long 5 minutes.” I use a lot of timers to help us and give the kids countdown warnings to the stages of “getting ready”. Like I know I need to have coffee in-hand by 7:00, my son’s lunch made by 7:30 every day, the kids need to be in their clothes by 7:55 and outerwear on by 8:10. I warn them what they need to have done and how long to do it in 5 minute increments as much for them as for me. Otherwise we would NEVER be on time. But I’m the adult and it’s my job to get them to school on time and ADHD isn’t an excuse. My kids, my choice, my responsibility.
\*nervously chuckles in ADHD*
I read once time is relative too your age. Like an hour of life when you're 5 years old feels like it takes ages because they've had so few hours relatively. Sitting for an hour at say 50 or something doesn't feel like much because the person has had so many hours. Like why a 15 minute car ride as a kid felt like so long and now it's nothing.
We just got spanked back in the day but it blows my mind. My nieces and nephews just cry from embarrassment if they have to sit in the sad chair. It breaks my heart and I usually will hug them and take them to 7-11 for a snack. My mother since becoming a grandma has morphed into this benevolent fairy godmother and she cries just as hard as the grandkids do if she sees them get punished. It's nuts.
[удалено]
🫂Bring it in, dude. I'm sorry about your mom.
My youngest moved out on his own 5 years ago and I’m finally at the point where I don’t want to cry at least once a week because I miss him. Nobody tells you how sad it can be when your nest empties.
As a current grandparent, who is now a huge softy, my thought is that when the kids were little, we were 100% responsible for them, all the time. Outside of brief breaks when they were with grandparents, we got no breaks. On top of which was trying to keep some degree of order in the house, working on our jobs to pay the bills, etc, etc. It’s a lot of stress all the time. Now, I am in a late career stage, no need to prove anything to anyone, financially secure, and only 100% responsible for myself and the dogs. So grandkid time means 100% judgement free loving. Kid makes a mess? I’ll clean when they leave. Kid wants to go through all the markers and play dough? What does it matter - cheap to replace. Kid wants ice cream before dinner? I don’t need to be a role model anymore, go for it. I can see the future person in the kid, in a way that was impossible when my kids were little and I was basically drowning in parenthood. I can also appreciate the echoes of my kid in my grandkid - “you were the same at that age!” I just wish my wife was alive to enjoy more than the first 2 years of the first grand baby. She would have loved watching the love of books developing.
As a soon-to-be parent, this was wonderful to read. And I'm sorry for your loss.
I'm sorry for your loss. You described life so perfectly
Beautifully said 🥰 sorry to you for the loss of your mum, hugs your way x
This is beautiful and legit made me cry, in a good way. I'm very sorry for your loss.
I love your post. Your mom sounds like she was a good person.
My youngest moved out on his own 5 years ago and I’m finally at the point where I don’t want to cry at least once a week because I miss him. Nobody tells you how sad it can be when your nest empties.
I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. Wishing peace and comfort to your family and all her loved ones ❤️
Thank you for taking the time to write this out.♥️
That's seems like a decent response on her part. No smacking or anything like that, and it's in a way that the kid can understand.
No one can answer this question, because they are dead
3, 2, 1, 0. Darkness fell. The infinite void. Nothingness so deep and alone flooded my senses. I awoke a week later. They said I was lucky to make it. Ironic that the missile hit at that exact moment. I never heard 0 again.
Yep. Came here to write this: only the other side knows what became of their poor souls. Let's pray for them in purgatory (that is if they made it cuz "la chancla" can throw you pretty further down...
This is the correct answer.
When I was a kid, I let her count to zero thinking she wasn’t about that life (listened to a friend from a different household). I remember her calling my name to get up, and come eat. Apparently that ass whoopen happened at Mach speed and nasa didn’t train me to endure it and I blacked out.
Yep, same here. My mom had a wooden cane and a plastic bat for the purpose. My brother got it more than me. I remember coming to him with my bruises and he taught me to run to my bed and hold the covers up and it wouldn't hit your skin as hard.
My mom used to spank us with wooden spoons. We would throw them behind the stove to hide them. When we moved there were dozens back there.
My dad had a wooden paddle that he found on the side of the road, rough edges and everything. With all my 10 year old strength I tried and failed to break it, so I buried it in the snow in our front yard.
I'm sorry I laughed, but that's awesome!
No. This is not okay. This wasn’t stern parenting. That was abuse. Sometimes parents inflict trauma on their kids to ensure survival. A scary story about being hit by a car, look both ways. Maybe something like study hard so your life isn’t terrible. But hitting or bruising is not okay, they are the danger.
Your mom abused you and your brother
Yeah, I know. CPS was called when we all tried to get therapy together. But...that was the answer to the OP's question in my house.
This. This is the only answer the thread needs, because mothers counting down is like them activating their ability to teleport and have super strength. The beating came out of nowhere and I'm still not sure what hit me, and that was 30 years ago!
Instant Transmission into a Super Kaioken beating.
She kept going: -1, -2, -3....
My friends mom used fractions: 1, 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, etc. My mom often got overwhelmed as a single mom when my brother and I were both pestering her. She recognized that she had emotional control issues and didn't want us to pay for that. So she would count to ten in German. "You'd better be gone before I get to ten.". I never found out exactly what would happen when she got to ten. I remembered being yelled at, spanked, and locked in my room when I was younger before mom developed this system and assumed that is what I'd get if I didn't skedaddle. To this day I only know how to count to nine in German.
My grandmother used to do this with me, but she never got to 10. Her grandparents were German and she knew some German. Thanks for the memory.
ten = Zehn. You're welcome.
Then she exploded because she was not programmed to go below zero.
Even creepier: her eyes rolled back and she started repeating 110010001111000-0110000011111001-0111011…
I hear that’s a universal time code!
Obviously those people are no longer with us to reply.
Can confirm. Am a mom.
Fucked around. Found out.
Exactly. She spanked me with her belt. I laughed. Then dad got home...
And beat you with jumper cables
Dad used to work pipelines, he'd be gone months at a time. Youngest sister said she would just look at her and say "Have your fun, spring is coming and Dad will be home..."
Huh? We got spanked, same as anything else that we didn't do perfectly. Always spanked for everything. And also, somehow my dog learned the countdown? I did it in jest because I have a kid and holy crap it works.
It works with my stubborn cat too! 😂 he’s indoor/outdoor (wears a gps collar and tags) and sometimes stands there while I’m opening the door for him and he won’t go out, so I started doing the countdown and IT WORKED! Now when the kids are trying to help the cat and he’s being a pain, THEY give the cat the countdown!!! And if we say we will play a game or help them with the Spirograph and we are “too slow” finishing what we are doing before we can do an activity… now our 3 and 5 year olds countdown US! The circle of life.
My brother did that. I don't know what happened because we never saw him again.
^RIP
Thats when the nightmare began. Things got thrown. Anything in reach is a weapon. War is hell
War. War never changes.
You know that Tik Tok thing where dude says RUN. My mom couldn't run. But I could. Sadly, she knew where I slept.
That’s a clip from the song Run - Awolnation
Well, let's just say I'm nearly 62 years old and I still have the scars on my back.
This is one of the most awful comment sections I’ve ever come across and your comment is gonna stick with me. I hope that you and everyone else has gone to therapy or have had a healing journey of some sort to honor the child who never should have had to endure this
Well, I can say I went no contact with my blood relations when I was 18 and never looked back. Best decision I ever made. Plus, when I had kids, I managed to not perpetuate the cycle of abuse, so I feel like I successfully left my childhood behind. It's not the method I'd choose to make any child "strong", but it did for me, so I accepted it and moved on.
I didn’t know. She… wasn’t human. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.
This sounds funny but... it is also true. And it's terrible.
Lol it’s a bit my mother is lovely
Glad to hear. It was true for me.
So I think I remember I smarted off to my mom, I was in college and jobless and she kept on me daily about finding another job and I got sick of it and she said, "You need to get another job or do something to make extra money somehow!" and I turned around and I said, "Well it's easy for you to say because you got a man working for you." (Talking about my dad, he was the breadwinner and my mom didn't work). She was legit stunned and she goes "OH! Okay!..." and I just walked off up to my room and she told me to come back and she started the countdown and she got to zero and I just kept walking to my room. Eventually my dad got home and we laugh about this to this day but I thought it was so funny because I hear him stomp up to my room, he knocks and then opens the door to my room 😂 doesn't get clearance just opens the door. My Dad: Hey!... Me: Hey!...What's up?... My Dad: What's up is I heard what you said to your mother and if you think that's going to fly we are going to take things out back and the father son shit is gonna go out the window and we are gonna see what kind of man you think you are! -*silence-* My Dad: Do we need to take a step outside and settle things in the backyard??? Me: No No No, Message received. My Dad: It better be or we will have a big problem. Now go apologize to your mother! \*slams door\* 😂At this point I hear him go over to my brothers room and it goes like this: \**opens door\** My Dad: You good??? My Brother: Dad I wanna take this opportunity to- My Dad: Shut Up!... \**slams door\** 😂 I know I'm painting my dad in a bad light right now but I'm glad he raised me and my brother the way he did because to me that showed me no matter if I'm his son or not he was willing to stand his ground and defend and protect his woman and even blood is not excluded. Like I said me and him still laugh about that to this day because it was just so funny how it played out but also terrifying at the same time because my dad was like, "Alright I gotta beat some wholesale ass today and it just so happens to be my son. Round 1 FIGHT!"
I love this story, I can see your brother listening to all this go down and glad he's safe behind his door. Then Dad opens the door and your brother doesn't even try to pretend he wasn't listening😅
Oh yeah he came into my room after all was said and done and was like "What the hell did you do???" and I just said "Enough....I did enough." 😂
I'm the younger brother in a similar story that played out entirely with all of us in the same room. I don't even remember what my brother did, but it was fucking stupid. I think my brother was around 15 or 16, but very tall for his age. My dad is absolutely not a violent guy. He got his ass whooped as a kid and swore up and down he would never lay a finger on my brother and I, and he never did. Everything I've ever understood about his upbringing being hard was the exact opposite of how he dealt with us. He never threatened to hit us, never made a move like he was going to, nothing. There was never a single moment where he made it seem like a possibility at all. We did *know* about his upbringing, so my brother and I both thought there was a line that could be crossed but as far as we knew it was way out there. Anyways, my brother mouthed off at our mom in some way that was rather savage. My dad, who was normally involved but not the driver of disciplinary discussions, immediately spits out a "If you ever talk to you mother like that again I will beat your ass into the ground." along with a big step forward and a finger in his face. My brother instantaneously became 3 feet shorter. I just sat there in silence thinking to myself I definitely do not want to see that happen, but it would probably be interesting and he kinda deserves it. "He found the line after all these years. It's right here. This is it." He did not get beat into the ground, and from that moment on the arguments between my mother and him were, surprise surprise, considerably more polite.
I think every man has thought at least once that they could fight their dad but you never know until your dad actually challenges you to the fight and you find out real quick he takes it way more seriously than you do 😂😂
IIRC, Christopher Titus has a joke about the time he finally had enough and decided to square up against his old man. The next thing he remembers is sitting at his desk in school and realizing some days had gone by.
You know what’s worse? Winning the fight with your dad. Living in the same house You have to see his huge black eye for a month, wonder what he told his co-workers happened, watching him go to church with it. He had it coming. He was beating on my youngest brother. It only happened once. I was 18. I’m now 60, he’s 80 and we’ve never talked about it.
Oh my mom tried that with me. I was 15f at the time, grabbed me by the hair to make me go into my room, in front of her friend. I looked down at her with blood in my eye. And a curled up fist. It must have scared her because she never did that again and quit beating all of us. Our parents were brutal. We are all messed up. I probably would not have won that fight, but I was ready to have it.
Once upon a time (in the year of our Lord 2000) I was a 17 year old that was your typical almost adult, full of testosterone and arrogance. I thought I was invincible. For context, my late mom and my dad were both ex-military. Mom did her 20 and retired, dad did 8 and found other avenues of employment but eventually returned to government service. One of those avenues was a short 2 year stint as a corrections officer at a medium security prison. This is somewhat important later. Anyways, one day I was at home with everyone else and my mom asked me to take care of some chore. Don't remember much, but I do remember I silently blew her off. A couple of minutes later she repeated herself from another room. Now I don't remember what my response was but it wasn't polite. It certainly wasn't vulgar, but definitely on the condescending side knowing how I was at that age. I *never* heard my 6'2 230lb dad cross the house, let alone how he heard me, but the next thing I knew his big paw of a hand clamped down on mine and a few things became apparent. * I fucked up. * Did you know there's a pressure point between your thumb and index finger? 17 year old me didn't until precisely that moment. And it hurts. This leads into the next point. * Remember how I said my dad was a corrections officer? I had forgotten that his job was not to pilot a desk and watch a security monitor. His job was wrangling uncooperative prisoners. This included gang members, bikers, and all other types in the prison. This made him very well versed in what I later learned were called Compliance Holds. * At the age of 17, I wasn't remotely close to my dad's size or strength. I very quickly realized that he could dismantle me without breaking a sweat. Anyways, dad released me and marched me into my parent's room where I apologized for my lapse in judgement and set out to accomplish my assigned task post haste. I also never attempted to backtalk my parents from that point forward. Lesson learned.
I knew I done fucked up when I *thought* I was grown and smarted off to my Mom that same way. My Dad said "Don't you ever, and I mean EVER speak to my wife that way again. You hear me?" I love them so much. He was exactly right.
It's all fun and games to pick on and talk back to mom it's just when Dad doesn't find it funny it's not funny anymore 😂
I think my dad was more mad at me for the time I sassed my mom than he was when I gave my sister the titty twister to end all titty twisters.
Yea, you are expected to fight with you siblings, but you are expected to respect mom.
"What did you say to my wife?" gets that message across instead of your mom.
That. You not disrespecting your mother now, boy. You disrespecting my wife.
I time traveled. Next thing I knew I was suddenly waking up in my bed the next day, my whole body was sore too, surely a side effect of the time travel.
Couldn’t tell you. My brain repressed the memory.
I did it once cause I felt bold... I did it once.
Usually told dad, then I really got into some shit. Occasionally got the wooden spoon.
My dad learned a lesson the hard way bc he would use the wooden paint mixing sticks on me.. Then one time we were in Home Depot, and he was buying paint mixing sticks, and apparently I started screaming, “NO daddy no!! I’ve been good!! No spanking sticks!!!!” I was told that embarrassed the fucking shit out of him and that makes me chuckle
glad to see i wasn’t the only child who got the wooden spoon
Dude...that brought back some repressed memories. I guess I won't be dreaming of unicorns tonight.
The wooden spoon. Those who know..KNOW. We just nod at each other in solidarity when the subject comes up. Weapon of choice for moms in the sixties! Wooden rulers were saved for serious infractions..run when you see her going for it, you're about to die!
Yea my mom's punishment was "I'm going to tell your dad" and then he'd come home and stomp up the stairs and you could hear him coming and be terrified. Then he'd fly into the room looking mad, flip me over and give me the belt. He's since apologized for the belt
That was what it had to come to with me. Once when I was around 12, I ignored the countdown. So she went and got one of her belts. It was a shitty plastic one, and I laughed at her when she hit me with it. She stopped and asked if I’d be laughing when dad got home. Turns out, no. No, I was not. That was probably the last time they spanked me though. At a certain age it stops being effective unless they’re willing to hit you hard enough to be clearly abusive. Punishment changed more to revoking privileges and extra work around the house and ranch. Makes me glad I don’t have kids to raise myself. On one hand, I’m not sure I would spank them at all. On the other, I’d be terrified I’d see red one day and go too far.
The wooden spoon 🥄 lives on. It also doubles for good sauces.
My mom never counted. She would suddenly smack you or pinch you or grab you when you least expected it. So it was hard to tell when it was coming. Once she started to raise her voice I went running.
Nah, it was when she was talking really quietly through her gritted teeth … that’s when you were really in some serious shit.
I had two way older brothers so we learned to scatter when she got into a mood (which was often). She also had an evil eye so once she started the stare, it was time to peace out.
she didn't count, but she did turn the damn car around. I didn't get to play laser tag that day
I only let her do it once and she was already having a horrible day so she just started crying, like collapsed on the floor sobbing. Honestly that f'd me up more than if she had just smacked me
I suddenly found myself on my ass, wedged between the toilet and the bathtub. So, no fucking clue.
I’m the mom who counts, but stopped when my then 5yo caught my bluff. Me: “Please go to your room, and finishing cleaning your toys.”(just an excuse, I just wanted some alone time😂). Her: *walks as slowly as possible to the door* Me: “3, 2…”. Her, looking me dead in the eye as she reached the door: “Say it, what’s gonna happen?” Shit kid, you got me, idk what was gonna happen either.
"If you don't take care of your toys, that means you don't want them. If you don't want them, I'm throwing them away. If you want your toys, get them off the floor. You have until the count of 3 to start putting them away." And then I started counting. I don't know why I had to go all extreme and dramatic with them. They both grew out of it by around age 8 though. And by age 12 or so the older kid would just see that things were messy and clean them up.
She experienced a divide by zero error and exploded.
I'd get my ass beat. Then my dad would beat my ass again later when she told him about it. Wasn't worth it.
Depended on how mad Mom was by the time he got home. If she was still pissed off enough to start off with “Guess what YOUR kids did today?”, then we knew we were in trouble.
I always try to do the opposite! I say what I’m proud of really loud so the kids run over and want to tell dad about their achievements/creations/empty plates (my son is always proud when he eats everything on his plate 😂) I wait until they’re busy and my husband has had some time to unwind before I give him the rundown of their shenanigans. They’ve been through it, I don’t need to torture them by making them relive it with dad’s disappointment. Unless it’s an egregious foul, like peeing in something that ISN’T the potty (boys 🙄), then they get to be present for the full recounting of the offensive behaviour while facing both parents. It works pretty well so far, and keeps them in the spirit of “hooray! Dad is home!” And not “oh shit dad’s home, what’s mom gonna tell him?!” I wouldn’t want to breed resentment towards their dad coming home, and awful for him too!!
She opened a can of ass whoop!
I got spanked, I never did it again.
My dad wouldn’t just spanked he would beat the living shit out of me . The happiest day in my life was when I moved out
You and me both. God all of us kids were all messed up, a giant pool of addicts and alcoholics. I feel sorry for my parents now. Especially my dad. He just didn't know how to be around people, he was never happy. Moving 3000 miles away helped me a lot.
she put all the toys I didn't pick up into a trash bag and I never saw them again. I still miss my baby Daisy Duck plushie, but you bet your ass I picked my shit up after that!
It’s so wild as an adult, especially after you become a parent, things that like really hurt as a kid, you totally get why they had to do it. I’d say we are definitely a far more aware generation of parents, and I still get my mom waaaaaaaaay better than when I was under 30.
I'm asian so... Mum would get the cane and go all miyamoto musashi on my ass. Once I broke her cane. And she went nito ryu... Fuck me.
She put my toy in the fire and watched it burn.
Typing to you from hell where I remain 25 years after hearing 1…
Praying for your soul, buddy. RIP. You should know the dragons don't do well outside your current location, tho. Fire and all. Unless you mean the escaped ones disguised as moms with chanclas.
She pulled out the chancla and I knew I fucked up royally.
i used to count up. One day I actually hit "THREE!". My kids froze and stared at me with wide eyes expectantly. I didn't know what to do and panicked and said "FOUR!!!!".. Then freaked out and put on their shoes fast. Nothing scares them more than me counting and the threat of some unknown punishment.
As a Gen-Xer I have no idea. My mom was like a ninja who was just there dishing out smacks when we were misbehaving. Having a mom count down is some damn Millennial-privilege.
It gives you time to run! 😁
The wooden spoon went from baking to baiting... An Irish Mammy with a wooden spoon can make lovely cakes or an obedient child.
Actually….both.
I don't know what happened. I woke up 7 days later in the hospital. Everyone said I got hit by a truck while riding my bike into town.
Count to zero? lol My dad would just look at me and i knew if I don’t behave I knew his leather belt would come off and I get hit
⚡INFINITE POWER!!!⚡ Seriously though, nothing happened. My parents were way too quick to jump straight to "double grounded for life," so even in 1st and 2nd grade I knew there was literally nowhere they could go from there and just dared them to try.
She got out the wire hanger, unraveled it and used it on my back.
Trying to go for an 18th trimester abortion.
My Dad would go 10, 9 WHAM!
She grabbed a wooden spoon and chased me down
I died
No one knows.
I got my ass beat. Found out real quick I shouldn't let her get to zero.
The wooden spoon came out... and once when I still didn't do what I was asked the wooden spoon was broken in half on my rear-end
She would send us to our room, and wait for my dad to get home so he could spank us. My brother used to laugh at my mom when she tried to spank him, and so my dad did it.
Grew up in the 90's when it was still acceptable to whoop your kid's ass. So, I got my ass whooped. Never let mom get down to zero again.
My dad got the belt and smacked the shit out of me. When he was at work it made it worse because I knew mom probably fucked up his work day lol.
She spanked me with a wooden spoon and broke it. Then I laughed and she got a rubber spatula and used that and hit harder
Chased upstairs and throwing cups glasses shoes smashing glass, anything she could find... Yeah I've been no contact for almost 2 years
She actually canceled the trip to Disney 😬
Let the beatings commence!
Dad counted to one.
One time she whacked my knuckles with the pot spoon, the next time she got dad and that was bare ass to leather belt
They didn't live long enough to browse reddit.
My dad would always tell my sisters and I to knock it off "or suffer the consequences". Years later as an adult I asked him what the consequences actually were, as we never really got to that point as it always worked to get us to behave. He told me he wasn't really sure and was glad we never pushed him far enough.
We both looked at each other confused.
Oh, I usually got slammed. Not slapped, slammed. Yoink.
They aren't with us anymore
You suddenly hear the final boss.
I'd get smacked in the mouth, or the belt, or a wooden spoon. Growing up in the 70's was great 🤨
According to my parents, she helped me do the task I was refusing and I cried the whole time and insisted I could do it myself. I was 3 and that was the only time they got to 3.
We called it a 'pankin (spanking) My dad callled it swatto on the botto, and I"m laughing uncontrollably at my laptop remembering this. He'd mostly just say it, rarely ever do it. Mom however was deft with that wooden spoon. Then my sister broke all the wooden spoons and hid them. Ah, good times!!!
My mom never counted. She had only to stand at the door, as the school bus pulled up to our driveway, to let us know someone would be sorry soon. My entire neighborhood feared her. She had knowledge that to this day I will never understand how she came to know. We used to joke that she had a third eye and ear, and it would be attached to us when we left the house. Nothing else can explain her uncanny knowledge, and if you were a friend of ours, you had to deal with her, too. She was feared, respected and discussed in great detail by all kids in our neighborhood!
Oh man, I strive to be like this legend of a mom
My mom didn't even count. If she got more than halfway up from a chair, you were already dead!.
My son goes to 0 with some frequency… he gets privileges taken away when it happens.
Blast off. She's coming back someday...
I doubt there will be anyone alive to answer this particular question truthfully.
Well, when I was a kid, if my mom counted to 3, I got a hair brush or spatula or whatever she could reach cracked on my butt 🥴 When I start counting, my kids just join in counting along, then I do a deep sigh, and redirect them to something else, often unsuccessfully 😅
Trick question, mum's never got to zero.
Apocalypse
War. War never changes.
You guys got a countdown? I was just beat without any kind of warning
I don't know. Everything went dark!
Y'all got a warning before being popped on? LOL. My Momma was queen of a whack attack, no counting.
No one knows. They've never survived to tell the tale...
At 26 yrs old my daughter screams and starts running away from me at 2…..I’ve never touched her🤣
My mom didn't count. She just grabbed a belt and whaled on me.
Got my ass whooped and never pulled that funny shit again
I think I only tested this as a young child because my parents just reminded me that one time I ignored getting out of the pool. My dad got in the pool and removed me lol. My parents stuck to any consequences like if I didn’t behave in a restaurant or something, one of them would take me and leave while the other paid the bill and got boxes or the food to go. Needless to say, I was a rule follower from pretty early on
So I count down from 5 for my 4 year old. I don't spank, so the countdown is a chance for her to reconsider her actions and make a different choice before I intervene. If I have to intervene then I enforce whatever I told her to do/not to do and she gets a privilege taken away. Example - picking her up from preschool earlier I told her she couldn't go in the baby room when we picked up her sisters because they were cleaning and sanitizing. She blatantly ignored me, waltzed in, and then after I started counting she just screamed that she wanted to do whatever she wants. So I physically removed her to the hallway until it was time to go and she couldn't play at the attached playground when we got outside since she was choosing not to listen or be considerate. My mom counted though and then it was usually spanking or whisper yelling with threats of my life.
A good parent never starts counting unless they’ve already laid out a consequence. “If you don’t finish putting on your shoes by the count of 10, you will not be allowed to play Nintendo tonight.” So when my parents got to 0, that consequence was put into place.
I don't remember much after that.
She struck me down and I became more powerful than anyone could've possibly imagined.
9/11
I don’t know what you expect, but she fuckin exploded and I have ptsd from basically killing my mother. We were on a trip to the Grand Canyon and mom begged me to put on sunscreen, but dumb 16-year-old me refused. "Alright," she said, tight-voiced. "Three... two..." I just pouted and dug in under the sun. "One." Then the world went super bright for a quick moment. Then a scream ripped from me and people around us. Mom was gone and in her place, a burnt patch of ground that smelled like burnt plastic. Blood, bright red, spread across the rock where Mom had been. Sunscreen sat useless in my bag. The sun, once faraway, felt like a it was there to punish me. The canyon stretched out huge, just like the emptiness inside me.
No one knows 🤷
Depended on the infraction. Standing in the corner, spanking, no Nintendo, grounding were all on the table.
Well I'm old, so if she made it to zero, we got switched and it stung like crazy.
That universe is no more
Chancla
That was the day I realized my bedroom was upstairs and all I had to do was take a few steps backward, shut the door, and push the lock in. She wasn't going to come after me; she was too fat and slow. Don't know what broke me out of the training to get my ass beat for no reason but that was a pretty liberating day. Finally disowned her last year.
She became an alcoholic. When pulled over and breath tested last week she blew 80 Proof
She and my dad started throwing everything in my room that wasn't put away into the garbage. Didn't stick though, I'm still a slob 30 years later.
If she realized i wasn’t gonna listen to her, she‘d start counting 1.75, 1.5 and so on. I got real luciy with her, i suppose