WTF Memories on Day 5

Day 5 of 30 Days of Thankful is dedicated to Memories. 

How are you supposed to narrow that down?!

I have so many great memories... 

Like when I sprayed my sister in the eyes with Windex and had to miss church... 

Or when I hit a game winning grand slam in overtime at the District tournament for softball and we won the whole dang thing... 

Or when I tricked my now brother in law into thinking he kept dialing the wrong number by acting like the AT&T lady... 

Or the 14,000 times I've given my dad's phone number to guys asking for my number (this is especially fun because his name is Ricky)... 

But I've decided to go with one of my husband's favorite stories from my childhood. 

He gets a kick out of my childhood stories because he grew up in the city and was fairly protected, whereas I grew up in the country (deep country) and am familiar with a good old fashioned country ass whoopin'. 

The only thing missing from this story is the city, bless our hearts. 

We grew up on a boulder-like dirt road and our driveway was gravel. We never mowed because there wasn't grass to mow really (the rocks kept what grass we did have fairly protected). We also burned our trash. 

My mom and my aunt would watch us and my cousins together quite frequently, which most of the time meant we were told to go play outside. With no neighbors or traffic, we had some pretty good free reign to do as we pleased. They also drank Zimas from time to time, which are in glass bottles. 

I don't think any of us (cousins and sister) were over 7 years old when this occurred, but one of us found the stash of glass bottles waiting to be taken to the dump (on our land). 

And to a bunch of young children, the sound of breaking glass on the gravel was hilarious. And man were we tickled! 

I don't know how many bottles we broke in the gravel driveway before they heard and came to investigate, but by the looks on their faces and the steam coming from their ears, it must have been a lot. 

My mom ripped me and my sister up and started beating our tails all the way in the house. When she finally stopped spanking us, my aunt says, "Get them too!" Referring to her two kids. I believe that was the first time my mom had spanked them but she didn't miss a beat and started tearing into them too. 

Once safely inside, I distinctly remember at least 3 out of 4 of us busting a gut laughing (sorry Ma). Spankings weren't unusual in our world and our fathers were much more adept at it. As much as it hurts my little feminist heart to say, mom's spankings didn't hurt and I'm fairly sure Ashley was just tickled that my mom had just spanked her. 

And we honestly didn't realize what we were in trouble for! The sound was so cool! Tires be damned... Safety be damned... it was like our own little science experiment. 

I think back on it now and laugh because there is no telling how long or even how they got all that glass cleaned up. I don't remember any flat tires but my mom reads this blog so maybe she can clarify things from her side. 

This may not be a memory my mom or aunt is very thankful for, but I sure am. That country upbringing made me who I am today. And at least now I know that it isn't okay to bust glass bottles in the driveway.