oll of paper before it was printed with those yummy-looking colored pictures.

Is it any wonder then that giving birth to 2 boys right out of the gate was tantamount to setting out for Disneyland only to find out that it’s been taken over by the Hel

I’m sure it’s no secret to anyone that child-raising skills are largely acquired from our own childhood experiences. However, being reared in a loving and somewhat normal home, does not necessarily prepare you for the minefield of parenthood. From my own experience I can almost guarantee you that your first child will dispel any myths you might be harboring that, “if it worked for my parents, it’s bound to work for me.”

I was born the middle of 5 girls and our only brother wasn’t born until I was 10. We absolutely adored our father and one stern look from him was all it took to make us behave. Sassing our mother was a capitol offense punishable by…well, we never found out…because we never did it. I only remember being spanked once. As I recall it was for eating the Sunday funnies. Come to think of it, I really don’t remember the spanking…just the lecture which came before the execution. To this day I can’t look at a newspaper without envisioning a whole generation of cockroaches inhabiting the roll of paper before it was printed with those yummy-looking colored pictures.

Is it any wonder then that giving birth to 2 boys right out of the gate was tantamount to setting out for Disneyland only to find out that it’s been taken over by the Hell

experience I can almost guarantee you that your first child will dispel any myths you might be harboring that, “if it worked for my parents, it’s bound to work for me.”

I was born the middle of 5 girls and our only brother wasn’t born until I was 10. We absolutely adored our father and one stern look from him was all it took to make us behave. Sassing our mother was a capitol offense punishable by…well, we never found out…because we never did it. I only remember being spanked once. As I recall it was for eating the Sunday funnies. Come to think of it, I really don’t remember the spanking…just the lecture which came before the execution. To this day I can’t look at a newspaper without envisioning a whole generation of cockroaches inhabiting the roll of paper before it was printed with those yummy-looking colored pictures.

Is it any wonder then that giving birth to 2 boys right out of the gate was tantamount to setting out for Disneyland only to find out that it’s been taken over by the Hel

10. We absolutely adored our father and one stern look from him was all it took to make us behave. Sassing our mother was a capitol offense punishable by…well, we never found out…because we never did it. I only remember being spanked once. As I recall it was for eating the Sunday funnies. Come to think of it, I really don’t remember the spanking…just the lecture which came before the execution. To this day I can’t look at a newspaper without envisioning a whole generation of cockroaches inhabiting the roll of paper before it was printed with those yummy-looking colored pictures.

Is it any wonder then that giving birth to 2 boys right out of the gate was tantamount to setting out for Disneyland only to find out that it’s been taken over by the Hel

was for eating the Sunday funnies. Come to think of it, I really don’t remember the spanking…just the lecture which came before the execution. To this day I can’t look at a newspaper without envisioning a whole generation of cockroaches inhabiting the roll of paper before it was printed with those yummy-looking colored pictures.

Is it any wonder then that giving birth to 2 boys right out of the gate was tantamount to setting out for Disneyland only to find out that it’s been taken over by the Hel

oll of paper before it was printed with those yummy-looking colored pictures.

Is it any wonder then that giving birth to 2 boys right out of the gate was tantamount to setting out for Disneyland only to find out that it’s been taken over by the Hell’s Angels. Of course it was only natural to call my mother when things began to get out of hand. After relating a few of my darlings’ exploits, Mom concluded that there were obviously darker forces at work and that we should immediately seek counseling. When I tearfully related this to my husband, who was next to the oldest of 10 children (5 of them boys), he sat me down and explained very patiently that they were perfectly normal…they were just…boys. He then told me horrendous stories from his childhood of floating down a river (very briefly) on a raft made from their bunkbeds, sliding down the stairs on goose-feather pillows and throwing knives at each other when they were supposed to be doing the dishes. He suggested that if the boys got out of control I should take them across my knee and tan their little hides.

My first attempt at this new form of discipline only evoked laughter from the recipient and my husband recommended I use a brush next time. A few days later he came home from work a