Girl Talk Thursday – Punishment
Today’s Girl Talk Thursday topic is one that is actually very difficult for me to discuss. Punishment.
I’ve written about it before. My parents handed out the usual punishment, grounding, taking away the TV, the stereo, etc. But my mother went a bit further. Not just spanking. Hitting. And not just with her hands. But with whatever happened to be lying around close by. A wooden spoon. A fly swatter. Usually these objects made contact with my face. She was very quick and physical with doling out punishment for whatever act I may have committed.
Needless to say, now those acts would be called child abuse. Back then? Nobody gave it a second thought. However, it left a lot of scars. Not physcal ones, mind you. The emotional kind.
I was terrified of becoming a parent. All I knew was the kind of life I had as a child. I didn’t want to treat my daughter the same way. But I feared I would, because after all, we are our parent’s children.
Ava is not quite yet two, so we are still a number of years away from the big punishments. However, I have caught myself in moments of sheer and utter frustration, and had to step away from her. Physically leave the room. So I wouldn’t do to her what my mother did to me. The twenty minute tantrums that escalate. The meltdowns that won’t allow me to even get dinner cooked. Times when I cannot take one more second of her throwing food to the floor. Being bitten on the arm. Slapped in the face.
All those things are moments where I have had flashbacks of my mother’s punishments. Moments where for one, split second, I could see myself acting exactly the way she did. Instead I walked away. I turned my back on my red-faced, howling child and walked away. I’m not sure if that in and of itself will leave scars. I fear it will. But I fear the alternative much worse.
Girl Talk Thursday – Dinner For Under 10 Dollars
Growing up in a family that survived on Social Security disability payments, we didn’t have a lot of money to spend on fancy groceries, or dinners out. We never went hungry, but we certainly didn’t eat anything fancy. I loved the food my mom cooked. It was good, warm, comforting. It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized we ate what we did out of necessity. Still, when I’m having a bad day and am stressed out, one of my childhood meals is what I crave.
As you can see from the ingredients, nothing here is going to break the bank. I really don’t have a breakdown of cost, but the most expensive thing is probably the ground beef, which if you’re like me, you always have stores of in the freezer. Add a bagged salad and a side of garlic bread, and for less than the price of a McDonald’s outing, you have a great warm, comforting dinner.
1 lb ground beef
1 28oz can crushed tomatoes
1 medium onion, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp ketchup
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 ½ cup uncooked macaroni
2-3 cups shredded cheddar cheese
Brown ground beef, drain. Put back in pan, add the tomato, onion, bell pepper, Worcestershire, and ketchup, salt and pepper to taste. Bring to boil, then turn down heat to medium and let simmer for about 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, cook macaroni until done, pour into casserole dish, and mix with the cream of mushroom soup. Add in meat and sauce mixture, stir to combine and then top with the shredded cheese. Put into 350 degree oven for 30 min, or until mixture is bubbly and cheese is melted.
Who You Calling Skeered?
Today’s GTT topic blows the lid off our fears…what we are afraid to do. My list isn’t terribly long. But the few things that push me to the edge of insanity are pretty intense to me.
So what am I afraid of?
Spiders and snakes of any shape, size, color or venomous capability. They simply make me lose my shit. Hardcore. Once when I was around 16 or so, I was walking across our front yard after having been to the neighbor’s house. Halfway to our front porch, I saw something coiled up on the lawn. It only took my mind seconds to register “SNAKE”. I froze. Literally could not move. It took me a good five minutes for my voice to come back so I could scream. And scream I did. My mother came running outside, expecting to find me with a limb chopped off or some such injury. She was rather perturbed to discover that it was “only a snake”. Yeah. Bite me, mom. While I stood there paralyzed, she went, grabbed a hoe (shut up) and proceeded to lop its head off. Mom, slayer of serpents. Jenna, chicken shit.
Heights. Anything over 4 feet off the ground is too damn high for a human being to be off the ground. I can’t even watch television if they’re on, say, the top of a gigantic river-spanning bridge (I’m looking at you, Mike Rowe – knock it off) or panning around from the top of a high rise. My palms will sweat. My stomach will churn. Black out or freak out will soon follow. I lose all sense of reason. No amount of calm, rational discussion will help me if I get to the point of yelling. Just get me down on terra firma. Top/side of a mountain does not count, FYI. I need to be as close to sea level as possible. Cause I might fall off the side of the Earth and die, yo.
Talking on the telephone. Yes, I do it in my job every single day of the week. But I hate it. I will email, fax, send letter by carrier pigeon, anything to avoid it. I will talk to Darin, my mother, MIL, etc. But that’s about it. I really can’t explain the fear. I’m not certain what it is about it that scares me. Afraid of the long pause? Looking stupid? Silly? Running out of things to say? (Shut up, Issa, it does too happen). Whatever it truly is, I have to know somebody for years before I am comfortable chatting with them on the phone. I envy people on Twitter who can exchange numbers and just like that start calling each other and having conversations.
Going to the dentist. My parents weren’t exactly big on oral hygiene. Mom had a gum disease that left her with dentures when she was 40. She never went to the dentist. Somehow with all the other stuff going on with my dad, he just never went either. So when I had to have a tooth pulled when I was around 13, that was an eye-opening experience. I had pain so bad, I wet my pants. Wet. My. Pants. You can imagine how embarrassing that was for a 13 year old. It left me so traumatized I’ve only been to the dentist two other times since then. Yes, I know how bad that is..so you can save the finger shaking emails. I just can’t do it.
That’s about all I have right now. Of course, as soon as I hit publish I’ll think of something else. But we’ll leave those for another day. So. What are you afraid to do?
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