"This will hurt me more than it hurts you."

We had returned two days before from a 3,861 mile road trip to see some sites, visit some friends, and mostly spend some time with grandparents…not mine, my son’s. It was a fantastic trip with more than one or two truly horrible nights sleep. It was hard enough adjusting to only two people entertaining him as opposed to the hoards he had grown accustomed to during our road trip, but he was also cutting five teeth at one time. After weeks of people thinking absolutely everything he did was adorable and/or hilarious, he was feeling pretty full of himself. He decided hitting mom’s face was just as cute as could be. Thus the very first battle of wills began, 10 months and 10 days into his very precious life.

            It was not that he hit me in the face that gave me the intense wake up call to the fact this wonderful, charming little boy who I remember thinking was perfect the first time I held him in my arms, was indeed fallen like the rest of us. It wasn’t even that after three forceful and clear instructions to not hit mommy, or anyone for that matter, in the face and a clear threat of a spank. It wasn’t that he did it again. We all have to learn, especially with the first boundaries we ever encounter, no means no, and threat of a spanking means ABSOLUTELY NO. It was the look on his face after the one rapid fire pop to the thigh and the initial cry of shock. The look said a million things, none of which I seem to be able to capture with pen and paper (or fingers to keyboard – since that old expression doesn’t seem exactly correct while blogging). But all of the things the look said, every last one of them, were shocking to me. This sweet child had a temper. This cherub of a boy could get nasty. Further evidence of said nastiness immediately followed the look –rapid fire pounding of my face.

            As this was my first encounter with discipline of this nature, at least from the “this will hurt me more” side of spanking. I was torn between wanting to hug him and comfort him and knowing the best course of action was to tell him I loved him but it was bed time. To tell him I knew he was upset, but that it was time for him to sleep and since he couldn’t control himself I was going to put him down and leave him alone in his room to go to bed. Whew. It took a few minutes and admittedly another pop or two to my face, before I realized my intense desire to hug him was doing no one any good…and probably doing the boundary I was trying to build some harm.

            For the first time in my life, I believe my parents were right. Their discipline – in all of it’s forms was most assuredly more painful to them than it was to me. The proof of that being that I will never forget that night and he is almost guaranteed to never remember it.