My mom was an arm slapper. We got cuffed in the upper arm for stepping out of line. You knew it was coming as soon as you mouthed back … and yet somehow still never actually saw it coming til it happened.
No beatings, no smacks in the face, no belts or flyswatters. It was the 70’s … we survived. I did not have a traumatic childhood at all.
I’ve shared my memories - we weren’t poor, but we certainly weren’t rich (more just a shade lower than middle class), with a dad who worked in a factory and a stay at home mom. We had a great childhood. Two weeks every summer at a Lake Erie cottage, church every Sunday, regular visits with the grandparents, and cousins that we ran the neighbourhood with … until the street lights came on. I wouldn’t trade a thing. Not even the occasional slap upside the arm.