Saturday, 2 July 2011

Scrambled Eggs - Guest Post

I have a treat for people today. One of my lovely readers has agreed to share some of his childhood memories growing up in the 1950's and 60's during spanking's so called 'Golden Age', with us. He has delightfully entitled this one: Scrambled Eggs.



It was another typical start to a hot, steamy New Jersey summer day. Not a cloud in the sky so the summer sun as burning the day at over 90 degrees with the hot humid air. The morning breeze did not offer much relief but with all the windows and doors opened, it was bearable.

It was 1964 and I was dressed in shorts, t shirt and sneakers as I ran down stairs, and out to the garage to get all my baseball gear ready for a day at the local little league field. It was 8 in the morning and my friends and I were determined to be the first players at home plate to ensure our day of baseball. It was typical to leave early and only come home for dinner. This was not the age of play dates and organized games, this was kids being kids. I left my baseball gear at the back door by the kitchen.

Mom was waiting for me when I entered the kitchen; she knew my plans, and was happy that we were off to an early start. I noticed at the time a hint of an edge to her voice but moved on. She told me to sit down and eat my breakfast; she knew that I was unlikely to have lunch, so she told me she had fixed some nice scrambled eggs and toast. I sat down somewhat annoyed, as my four friends; three guys and one girl were on their way to pick me up. Then in front of me was placed a plate of dry, burnt scrambled eggs with a piece of toast! I just stared at the plate, knowing this would be difficult to choke down. Mom went to the basement, and I quickly tried the eggs, but could not get them down, the dark edges were too much for me. I shoved the toast down, gulped down my milk, which I loved and then made a decision.


Something like the eggs our young hero was faced with on that fateful summer morning.

I quietly took the plate over to the garbage, lifted off the lid and slowly pushed the eggs into the garbage, being careful to hide them under some papers. I placed my plate and glass in the warm water as we always did. Dishes were washed by me or my brothers as one of our chores, so mom had no problems if we left them in the warm water.

I crept to the door, my friends were coming down the hill in the back, slowly snuck out the door, careful not to let it slam. I grabbed my stuff, and then as I was moving away, hollered goodbye to mom. I walked quickly to meet my friends, thinking I was in the clear, I greeted them, and we all started back up the hill toward the field. Then I heard mom's voice. “Young man, get back here!” was the order.

Now I knew something was wrong. With my friends I walked back to the door. Mom was holding it open, I was walked in, leaving my glove, bat and friends at the stoop.

Mom immediately went into the kitchen, turned and asked me if I ate all of my breakfast. Of course, baseball was waiting so I said “Yes Ma'am.” Hah, little did I know. She turned, walked to the garbage, lifted the lid and asked me who put the eggs in the garbage. Now in my house, once you were caught, it was over. I stammered and started to cry telling her that I did.


From Sassy Bottoms. Mom lectures her son about the evils of not eating breakfast and lying.

Mom put the lid back on, opened the utensil drawer and took out her wooden spoon. I was now in tears, knowing what was about to come. Also knowing my friends were going to hear to my spanking. Mom took my arm, and pressed me to bend over the front of one of the wooden, straight back kitchen chairs, with my palms flat on the seat. My shorts were pulled down to my ankles by mom, she wrapped her left arm around my waist, and commenced with her standard hard, fast spanking over my white underpants with her spoon. Mom was a very hard no nonsense spanker, and she was in no mood to listen to my pleas, she spanked me very hard and very fast.

The spoon really stung, and I was crying and screaming the entire time. Mom was in the midst of burning my bottom, even over the white underpants, and lecturing me not about the eggs, but about not telling the truth. She continued to spank.

Now as fast as it started, it was over. Mom let me go, moved away and put the spoon back in the drawer. I was crying, she said those famous words ‘stop crying or she will give me something to really cry about.’ Mom told me to sit down, and she would cook me some more scrambled eggs.

Now even as an adult many times my mouth spits out words that my brain has never approved, and this was one of the times.

As I pulled up my shorts over my burning bottom, I uttered, “Not more burned scrambled eggs!”

I froze as my brain caught up to my words, and looked at mom. I started to mutter ‘sorry etc, and mom grabbed my arm, dragged out one of the chairs, pulled both my shorts and underwear down. She sat, and I followed quickly over her knee. Mom then commenced with a blistering hand spanking on my bare bottom, hard and fast. Mom was an accomplished spanker, had a very hard hand and she spanked with a true purpose.


A miserable young man finds out about the perils of having a smart mouth around an angry mother.

I was howling, crying, screaming and an absolute mess. My friends were scared, two of them headed off to the field, for fear that they may be next. The other two, tried to walk aaway, but as they told me later the sound of this spanking was heard for blocks by the neighborhood, as was my crying. I have no idea how long this serious hand spanking went on, but I was hysterical. Finally it ended. Mom pushed me up, took me to the corner and lectured me again about lying and being rude. I could not see or hear much through my tears and sobbing.

Mom was still angry, she told me to clean up, make a bowl of cereal and get out of her sight. Now the last part was another of the famous lines but one mom did not really mean. No fool, I did as told, ate and got out of the house.

My friends who waited were silent as I joined them still crying out of control, tear and, snot covering my face. The girl actually put her arm around me to try and calm me down and told me she was spanked just as hard the night before. This was a common occurrence, but I wa sreally hurting.

I stood in the outfield, away from all the kids for at least a half hour as I could not stop crying. My bottom was flaming, sore and felt swollen.

The day ended near 4 and I headed home, not knowing what was in store for me. I put all my gear away,  went right to the kitchen and washed all the dishes. Mom then came in the room. She told me my dad was on his way home,  smiled and hugged me hard. She then told me dad knew nothing about the morning spankings or what happened. She hugged me again, told me to go wash up and help her get the grill ready for the cook out we were having.

I went to my room and finally looked at my red, swollen bottom, and winced a few times. But in all honesty, while sitting was tough that evening, it was over and done with. Mom had spanked me very hard, twice, I earned and needed it, but now it was over. No hang over, nothing. I was naughty, spanked and it was done. No bad feelings except my backside, but I was spanked and it was all over. The spankings were cleansing for both of us as I look back on it now.


4 comments:

  1. Well, he should NOT have lied in the first place about not eating the eggs, but I can ALMOST understand his remark about the possibility having to eat burnt eggs!! Poor guy!! I think that he was in a "damned if I do and damned if I don't situation!!!

    I also do NOT like that the mother "disciplined" while she was ANGRY!! This, in my opinion, turned a potentially positive discipline session into one of excessive abuse!!

    Bob.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Angry doesn't automatically mean abuse. A parent can be angry and still give a sound spanking without "abusing" the child.

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  2. Thank you for reading and commenting, Bob.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bravo Aunty, let's hope the readers will continue to explore growing up, this is a wonderful story. I do enjoy reading about spankings growing up, it is nice to read others were spanked in this world.

    Note Bob's commentary but let's face it, this was not an adult spanking session, this was from what I read a young man and his mom. I was spanked many times by an angry mom, it worked too and I never felt it as an "abusive" situation. I love what the writer offered at the end of the story about hugs and no hangover or bad feelings. That to me when I grew up is how I felt when I was spanked. It clears the air and while one may have a sore bottom, well, it is better than having some bad feelings with a parent.

    Thanks for sharing this with us, I hope it will stimulate more.

    Much respect
    Ron

    ReplyDelete