My Mom tells a story of my kid years and how difficult it was to discipline a Lil' Brown Girl (LBG). I was reared in the spank generation. Ya know, back in the day when you could put a kid over your knee, deliver a swat and not have the child dial up Child Protective Services to activate a report on the parent.
Spanking wasn't a frequent event in my household and I think it's fair to say that when did occur I was totally deserving of it. There came a point when my Mom says she knew spanking was no longer an effective tool in managing my behavior. Apparently that time was the instance when I'd done some kid like heinous thing or the other and as she was doling out my spank and instead of crying I looked up and glared at her. In true, smart Mom like fashion she realized that the days of spanking were over and it was time for a new tactic.
Enter: taking away things.
...Now my LBG room was the entire second floor/attic of our house which included a walk in closet, a double bed, a sitting area replete with a groovy yellow/orange-y pleather love seat and accompanying mod chair, a tv, a record player, a dedicated play area where my racetrack, dolls and other toys lived. Yes. As a 7 year old I had my own apartment.
P.S. (post spanking) when I did things that required punishment I had items taken away from me; the privilege of watching tv, playing my record player, toys removed, etc., which in theory should have made being sent to my room to be alone and reflect on whatthehellever I'd done a lonely, dismal punishment. Again, in theory...
In actuality, Mom tells me that she would frequently find me in my room 'on punishment', not solemnly contemplating the errors of my ways and how I would rectify/avoid such situations going forward and learnin' my damn lesson, but completely entertaining myself. Making hand shadow animals on the ceiling with a lamp.
...Singing a song to myself. Making believe my hairbrush was a superhero saving my barrettes. Counting the number of outlets in my room. Staring out the windows peekin' in on the neighborhood ta-doin's and making up
But never was I bored being alone. I still am not.
No. The bad things about living alone are as follows:
- There is no one else to kill a bug. (My last traumatic bug killing incident - Click)
- If you go to the bathroom and find pee in the bowl there is no other
idiotperson to blame.
- When clothes are found wrinkle-y in the dryer after 4 days there is no one to yell at for their laziness.
- Knowing that if you choke on your hot dog you are 100% gonna die. Yeah, *they* say you can Heimlich yourself...
...But I've never been sold on the fact that you (I) would be able to generate the amount of force needed to extricate the food.
- When you find a flurry of hand prints and smudges on your sliding glass door there is no other culprit.
- All crapass tasks such as taking out the trash are fully your responsibility when there is no one else you can pawn them off on or con into doing.
- If you see sumthin' ridiculous on TV you A) either have to call someone to see if by some random ass chance they were watching the exact same thing at the exact same time and noticed it. Or 2) DVR it and remember to show it to your next visitor
who then thinks your crazy for having made the effort to fuckin' record such nonsense for an after the fact show and tell.
- There is no one to run out for things you want right the fuck now but are too lazy to go get for oneself. Example: Ice cream. (<-- And yes. I currently want some ice cream.)
- Feeling bad about the frequency and amount you talk to your pet. Sadly, Uncle John (my dog) has yet to attain the Dr Zaius like ability of speech.
- Nutritional sketchy-neses. When no one is around there is no mocking voice to say, "fucking really? Mac and cheese for breakfast?!?" or "popcorn is NOT dinner".
- There is no accountability for stupid purchases. Hence how BBG HQ came to contain; roller skates, a cotton candy machine and a hoola hoop. (And those are the items I'm willing to cop to publicly...)
- You can't pick a fight with a dog when you're feeling uber irritable and just wanna strike out at someone.
- When you're sick you must be verrrrry, verrrrry careful and attentive as there is no one else to clean any
vomitmess you may make. Let's face it, who want's to be sick and have to be cleaning? A: Nodamnbody.