My girlfriends sometimes complain about their mothers and how they get on their nerves or try to instruct them on how to discipline “their” grandchildren.  Somehow the rules seemed to have changed when it came to the new spawn.  I actually miss those encounters with my mom now.  She was a single parent and that was synonymous with being a no-nonsense parent.  My mom worked two jobs and did not have a lot of time for foolishness from her children.  I remember vividly how my mother believed that anytime a teacher sent a note home or made a phone call to her about my or my siblings’ comportment, the teacher was always right and we were always wrong.

Now mind you, my mom’s full-time job was as a social worker.  But that did not stop her from popping me upside my head if I got out of line in school or sassed her at home.  And, she made sure we all knew that she was willing to go to jail for what she believed in.  And to our chagrin, she believed in thrashing her kids.  As I look back on the many times I tested that concept, she held firm to her belief system.  Once she even gave me a number to call if I felt I wanted to go into a foster home.  Upon reflection, being the child of a social worker and knowing the truth about foster care, beat-downs and all, my house was still the best deal in town.

As an adult, I was fortunate enough to have my mother’s first grandchild.  It was a sight to behold while I was in labor, as she questioned the doctors and nurses.  When my labor wasn’t progressing as they had hoped, they ordered a drug for me called Pitocin.  My mother frowned and said, “Ya’ll still use that?”  But nothing compared to when my daughter actually made her entrance into the world.  I remember my mother telling me that having her was the best thing I had ever done until that point in my life.  I think what she was really telling me was that children were the most precious gift I’d ever receive.  It was then that I realized that she believed we were gifts even when she was whipping the snot out of us.  I also remember that moment being the first time she ever told me – at least in words – that she loved me.  It was an awkward moment, but it marked a dramatic shift in our relationship.

As the years went on and we became closer, my daughter became the apple of grandma’s eye.  I realized what lengths she would go to to protect her gene pool.  Mom, my daughter, and I were at a department store one Saturday afternoon.  My daughter was about four years old at the time and very inquisitive.  We were pushing her around in her stroller and she would take hold of things that were situated within her grasp.  As much as we tried to keep her from swiping things off the racks and hangers, she seemed to get a kick out of destroying everything in her path.  On our way out, the alarms sounded.  It seems that my daughter managed to grab a toboggan hat and slipped it under her bottom without our seeing it.  The security guard came up to us and demanded that we empty our bags and “lift the kid out of the stroller.”  Of course, that’s where we found the hat.  He started yelling at us and scolded us to be more careful.  His demeanor made my daughter cry.  My mother had had enough of his foolishness and proceeded to give him a piece of her mind.  She snapped, “If you had done everything your mother had told you to do, you wouldn’t be a security guard at a department store.  You’d be a doctor by now.  Think about that the next time you start yelling at other people’s children.”  Needless to say, we were permitted to leave without further incident.  My mother picked up my daughter and consoled her until she had put the unfortunate confrontation out of her mind.

As I look back on those and many other moments with my mom, the whippings seem so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.  There are many in my generation who blame their parents for their shortcomings and failures in life.  Some would even have the gall to say that I was adversely impacted because I was spanked as a child.   I say I was loved beyond measure.  My mom loved me enough to get my attention long before I had a chance to become a burden to society.  I actually cared about her opinion of me and didn’t want to disappoint her.  Sure I’ve spanked my kids every now and then.  I’m not saying I black their eyes or break their bones, but a pop on their behinds to get their attention has made a difference, just as it did for me.  And even though my mom would have cut her arm off before ever laying a hand on my daughter, I’m glad that my little girl, who’s now 22 years old, got a chance to experience the security of being loved beyond measure before her grandmother went to sing with the angels.

In The Fray Contributor