ditto, PilgrimsProgress. It is why I posted the poem.

So, I see we tend to like being "good"  LOL

My childhood offered a good bit of pain and anger.

I also knew the sometimes spoken rule, that was always the unspoken rule- no drawing attention. There could be "acting up". No behaviour that betrayed the secrets opr made people want you to tell them. Always be on your best behaviour outside these doors...No lashing out or raging at school kids or I would face mom's wrath. There could be no neighbourhood fights that mom would be embarrassed by or that might cause anyone to look twice at our "normal" family. It is why the seething child was bullied and not the bully in public. It was a rule to let them. Until, the house doors swung close.

The cardinal rule at our house was, "what happens in this house stays in this house".

It always did or near always/

Siblings fight and everyone expects that, they do not look twice... if it gets real bad those raised not to tell outsiders often don't and mom hated nothing more than tattlers.

We tormented and tortured each other. It is easier, for me, to get over being hit too hard than to get over doing the hitting.

Once I was at the park and I was pushing a smaller child on the swing.  I was getting tired of doing it and wanted to play myself, but whenever I said I was done, she'd start whining and I would grudgingly give in.  Finally, I decided to make her WANT me to stop pushing her by pushing her much higher than she wanted to go on purpose.  It worked...she screamed and let me leave to play on my own.

Once I was at the park and I was pushing a smaller child on the swing.  I was getting tired of doing it and wanted to play myself, but whenever I said I was done, she'd start whining and I would grudgingly give in.  Finally, I decided to make her WANT me to stop pushing her by pushing her much higher than she wanted to go on purpose.  It worked...she screamed and let me leave to play on my own.

I purposely turned the skipping rope really hard when a friend (I guess I was mad at her for some reason) and the rope caught her glasses and they fell and broke.

I got to a certain age where I was not allowed to hit them.(There were three years between me and the next) So, I once made my siblings (only about a year apart) wrestle in a grudge match until they were both crying.

But, it is better than my brother spraying my sister's bare legs with Easy Off or my sister swatting him with a bread knife and scalping him.

We were heathens

Kicked a guy in the naughty bits once. He was bullying me at the time but, in retrospect, it was more revenge or counter-attack than self-defense.

Probably had issues with my brothers, but can't think of any specific incidents.

Mendalla

(Sigh!)  Thank's folks for making me feel "normal"!

It's interesting that all these many years later we can still remember these incidents............

Speaking the truth is important these days - but it wasn't always so.......

When I was about nine years old we visited relatives.

It was common in those days for kids to share a bed (topping and tailing) - and I had to share with two of my younger sisters.

I awoke during the night to discover I had wet the bed - something that hadn't happened for years.

I woke up my youngest sister -who was three years old at the time - and said, "You've wet the bed, you naughty girl."

Understandably she looked confused, "I'm sorry, I didn't know I had."

PilgrimsProgress, Have you told your sister?

My siblings and I would sometimes do things that we knew would get everyone a whacking with a Hot Wheels Rack Track (mom's favourite, I hate those things). My therapist said it was likely because we could not bring ourselves to inflict what we knew mom would, so when we were real mad and wanted them to really get it, we would do something to get them that even if we had to get it too.

My sister did one of those things. Mom asked, "who did it?". Two innocents said, "not me". My sister said, "not me". Mom threatened we would all get it. Again, three "not me"s. We all got it.

Years later, casually over dinner, she spilled. My brother did not talk to her for weeks.

in about grade 2, i took chris riffles glasses off his desk, and then did nothing while he panicked because he couldn't find them.

i didn't give them back until he came to school with a new pair of glasses.  probably cost his parents a fair bit, and he probably got in a lot of trouble for losing them.

it wasn't until i was well into my teen years that i remembered that i had done that for some reason, and i STILL fee like crap for making his parents buy him new glasses....

Er, not yet!

She's now a social worker -and is kinda scary.

Maybe after Christmas dinner -when we've both had a glass of champagne...........

Sighs,

I'm curious - any idea why you took his glasses?

I'm amazed you can remember his name "Chris Riffles" - not exactly John Smith!

Beloved & Sighs,

I've made a mental note to not wear even my sunglasses when you two are around.

When I was in Grade 8, I was in a choir where I was forced to sit beside one of my bullies. She tormented me all year long until one day, when the choir director wasn't looking, I elbowed her in the side - the side that I knew she had recently injured. She asked to be moved and never bullied me again.

My  mother had a 17-hand gelding steeplechaser when I was a kid and I was allowed to  ride it  — until one very mad day. A friend of mine's mother also had a pretty big spirited jumper, and we somehow came up with the idea of "buzzing" the local pony club: all these fat little girls on their fat little ponies riding circles in a small "paddock" down the road.

It was one of those things that, once dreamt up, could not really be backed away from.

So on a Saturday afternoon (we were both 10 years old and really not completely in control of these big horses) we got our folks set up to let us ride the horses down to the beach (past the pony club — but that was not mentioned).

We could see the pony club in progress as we started down the hill and we began nudging our horse from a walk, to a trot, a canter to, finally a screaming, yahooing gallop — and reined them towards the hedge. The both took the hedge superbly and galloped straight across the little field. I have blurred memories of my mother's horse, Rajah, breaking step and buckjumping to avoid a small girl who'd fallen off her pony in front of us, of screams and terror and fury and ponies dancing about and then the leap clear over the hedge on the far side... and my pal was still with me. We'd done it!

We were elated, amazed, terrified... but we carried on down to the beach and tried to persuade each other  — as boys do — that we'd hear no more about it ... and we naively agreed tthat, if we did, we'd say the horses just bolted on us.

With that sorted, we started to relax when my folks' car arrived, and his folks' car arrived. Well, it all sort of got a whole lot worse from that moment. A belting for doing it, a belting for lying, a belting for risking the horses' safety... and then the long wait —a week of school where everyone had been told how totally irresponsible we were —  until the following Saturday when we had to go down (on foot! — of course!) to the stupid pony club and apologise to each stupid girl individually, sincerely, profusesly, abjectly and meekly… and to the stupid pony club instructor, and say how "stupid" we had been and that we'd never ever do anything like it again. It was awful. We never got out together on the horses again. And it haunts me to this day, what COULD have happpened.

(But, Great God of Forgiveness, just that once, it was sure as hell worth it...)

Ah Mike, to quote Captain Mannering addressing Pike in "Dad's Army".

"You, stupid, stupid boy!"

I hear ya, sigh.  The skipping girl's parents had to buy her new glasses too - there was little comfort for me in the fact that she needed new glasses anyway.

If you promise to skip, I promise not to turn the rope too hard!

Oh my goodness, MikeP.  Your story reminds me that sometimes, especially as kids we get an idea that seems really good in our heads, but afterwards we think "what were we thinkin'?"

I was a very shy and introverted child (still am, as an adult), so tended to be on the receiving end of the nasties and bullying more than dishing it out.  

I told more than a few white lies.  Our parents worked us pretty hard on the farm but we would get time off for doing our work and good behaviour.  For a couple of hours on a Sat. afternoon I would be allowed to go to the lake and visit with my summer friends whose parents were from the city and owned cottages.  My 2 hours away would often stretch into 3 or 4 and I would come home with elaborate tales of why I was late.

Some of those kids would come to the farm to see the cattle and horses, and we would tell them that chocolate milk came from the brown cows, and butterscotch ice cream came from the ones that were brown and white.

I'm sure I did some things to others that weren't thoughful or nice, but can't remember that far back.  Know I did some thoughtless things as a teenager and as an adult haven't treated people as I should. 

I naughtily jumped a horse once when I was 12, just over a log, it was great! I was so proud of myself.

I can't think of anything unpleasant I did to others... except maybe pulling the wings off moths and shooting them with the hose to see what death was like.

I was accused of thinking myself better than others, or taking/doing things for myself on purpose, but I don't remember actually doing any of those sorts of things as a kid.  I resented those kinds of accusations. Though there was some dispute when I was a teen, over who had seen this particular yard sale book first. I got the book. It might have rightfully gone to my friend, but she only showed interest in it after I did, and had allready claimed it for myself. Yet still she remained bitter about it for months. It sucks having a jealous best friend.

I always wondered if my bullies ever regretted the things they did/said to me though.

I remember when I was five, still too young for school, sitting across the table from my mother and brother when he was six and in grade one.   She was trying to teach him to read - and as I watched and listened I began to catch on.  Not knowing enough to keep my mouth shut I would shout out the words Mom pointed to, before he could remember them.  He was furious and my mother, instead of praising me, sent me away from the table.

I remember following my older sister around always wanting to be part of the group of kids she chummed with, even when she tried to ignor me or send me home.  And when I reached my teens I remember letting a boy friend of hers kiss me and tell me when she and him were having a bit of a misunderstanding.  I was flattered by his attention at the time.  I'm ashamed of myself  now.   He was probably about 20, she 17 and me 14.  He was a jerk. 

I don't remember being mean to other kids.  But let me keep thinking.  There might be something buried in there.

Eee Seeler, he was a jerk to take advantage of such a young girl at his age. I don't think it's your fault. I bet it boosted your confidence.

Yes, seeler, if you are still feeling bad about this yet today - STOP! - remember - you were a child and thought like a child (although at 14 one would not want to consider themselves a child :).  He was 20, an adult, and he should never have done what he did - he was in the wrong here, not you.  Don't feel bad anymore :)

I feel bad that I betrayed my sister.  But I was a child, trying to act older - and only vaguely aware that sisters boy friends are (or should be) off limits.   As I said - he was a jerk - an adult taking advantage of a child.  (it didn't go any further than a kiss but still he should have known better.)

Seeler,

No need to feel bad about "betraying" your sister - just another wee drama in sibling rivalry.

Unfortunately sibling rivalry never ends - watching my Nana and her sisters told me that........

(I'm predicting that on Christmas Day my sisters and I - in amongst the hugs and kisses - will show glimpses......)

Pilgrim - with this particular sister and I - well, let's say that it is a good thing that we live in different provinces and that, while we love to see each other whenever possible (which is now one a year if we are lucky) we have learned to keep our visits short.  I go to her place and stay with her for three or four days at the most.  When she comes to NB she rents a housekeeping place and stays for a couple of weeks, visiting in-laws and cousins and old friends - so we only see each other for a few hours every few days.  Any prolonged exposure and some of the old hurts come back and we are bickering or slighting each other again.  Having our other sister around is something of a buffer.  We both get along well with her.  (but she tells me that she sets limits for older sister, and even then, a few days and she begins to feel like a frightened child all over again.) 

SG,

I finally plucked up courage and told my sister about wetting the bed and blaming her.

It was on Saturday night and I was celebrating my birthday. It was the perfect time - we have a "rule" in our family that everyone has to be nice to you on your birthday.......

She just laughed and said, "You showed good judgement - you knew that Mum would have been more understanding about a toddler wetting the bed."

But, get this!

She then went on to say, "Actually, I'm relieved. Now I can tell you about stealing that enormous Easter egg you had. I carefully unwrapped it and ate a tiny portion and rewrapped it - so you wouldn't notice.

But I didn't have enough sense to stop there - I nibbled so much away in the end I ate the whole egg.

You were furious, and accused me -and I denied it."

That's an odd feature of much of childhood guilt - it's remembered for years by the perpetrator, but forgotten by the victim......

First thing that pops into my head is how I treated my friend's little brother when he tried to follow us everywhere. Actually, he was a really cute little kid, but we didn't want him hanging around. I used to tell him that where we were going,  there were bears that would eat him, or tell him he'd be in trouble etc. to the point where he'd start to cry.

Feel awful about that. "Freddie" must be well into his 50's now......

I was actually a pretty empathetic kid and rarely acted this way, which is why it bothers me to remember it.