A WMD Has Surfaced!

Putting up a rerun just to keep things moving along until I'm able to post again on Thursday...Original Post Date 2/7/05

Imagine the timing. Since introducing you to my mother, I was contemplating a blog entry about the various items that she'd use to torture us. Let's call them "WMDs -- Weapons of Margie's Discipline".



I immediately began to search for a picture of the paddle and ball that you see here. She'd buy us this toy, and in her best Elvira Gulch tone she'd warn, "Now don't let it break!" We knew that meant once the elastic had broken she'd take the paddle and store it for a future whacking session. We hated that fucking toy.



I had just finished my image search when Lucas ran inside from getting the mail, breathless with excitement. "Look at what Grandma sent me for VALENTINE'S DAY!!" Yep, you guessed it. A special Valentine's edition of the dreaded paddle toy. Every single solitary hair stood up on the back of my neck.



The hard part is that I can't say "UGH Lucas...I used to get hit with that thing..." because I really don't want him to hate my mother. I've told my kids vague things from time to time, like when Emma called me a bitch (she was 10) I said, "If I had ever said that to my mother I would have been knocked from here to New Jersey. And because of that, I have to leave the room now." I tried not to get into specific details with them, though. I just don't think it's the right thing to do.



The second picture I searched for was a pincushion, but couldn't find a good one. See, my mother sewed a lot, so pins were also WMDs. There was one incident where she held me down and stuck a pin in my tongue for not saying "Yes Mommy" ten times like I had been ordered to. If a sewing kit shows up as my Valentine's present I think I'll croak.