I Used to Think Spanking Was Unacceptable

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I used to believe that parents who spanked their kids fit into two distinct groups: either they were non-religious child abusers or they were religious child abusers. The non-religious spankers often justified their actions by saying, “Well, my parents spanked me, and look how I turned out. I’m fine! My kids will be fine too.” I never had the courage to say, “Really? You turned out to be kind of a jerk, though.” Instead, I’d just roll my eyes and walk away, convinced I was going to be a better parent. I’d rely on logic and time-outs, ensuring my kids would never feel confused about being hit by someone they loved.

I was also frustrated by the more religious crowd who twisted scripture to back up their spanking habits. It wasn’t just a justification; it felt like a divine order to discipline with a rod. They believed that without spanking, their kids would be overtaken by sin. I would silently scream in disbelief—how could anyone think a loving God would endorse hurting children?

Then I got pregnant.

The hormones turned me into an outspoken advocate for what I thought was right. I was convinced that anything harmful could ruin a fetus—like a glass of wine, nitrates, raw fish, or unpasteurized cheese. I even engaged in countless debates with my sister-in-law, whom I jokingly called “Mrs. Spanky McSpankerson,” pushing my views about how damaging spanking was for kids. I sent her articles and texts, determined to prove my point. Honestly, I was kind of a know-it-all.

Then my son arrived.

From day one, he was a colicky baby. As he grew, he transformed from a constant crier into a relentless whiner. Peas were too green, cereal too cold, and long-sleeved shirts were just plain unbearable. It was exhausting. Eventually, he evolved into what people like to call “strong-willed,” which is just a nice way of saying he was a total handful.

We tried everything: stern talks when he pulled the cat’s tail, time-outs for refusing to get in the car, and even positive reinforcement when he chose to drink his milk instead of dumping it on the carpet. But nothing worked; he laughed at our attempts and continued to test every boundary.

Then one day, he slapped me.

That’s when I realized there’s a third type of spanker: those who feel they have no other option but to resort to methods that countless generations have used for unruly kids. All my carefully constructed beliefs about parenting evaporated. I calmly turned him over, pulled down his pants, and gave him a firm smack on his little behind. I didn’t argue or negotiate. I simply stated, “You will not hit mommy. That’s disrespectful. I’m in charge, and you’re not. This isn’t a choice.”

He cried big tears, shocked and scared. I was taken aback too, but we cuddled for a minute, and I told him I loved him. He bounced back within moments. I didn’t break his spirit; he’s still a strong-willed child, but now he’s respectful and thinks twice before acting.

I’ve changed my mind about parents who spank. I now see them as just a little desperate and strong-willed, like me.

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In summary, my perspective on spanking shifted dramatically when I became a parent. Initially, I believed that spanking was solely a sign of poor parenting. However, after experiencing the challenges of raising a strong-willed child, I now understand that sometimes parents resort to spanking out of sheer desperation and love.