I have 2 brothers and one sister. My sister and I are very close now, but growing up, we hated each other most of the time.
We fought constantly. When I say fight, I mean physical violent fights.
Hitting, scratching, hair pulling, biting, kicking, cutting, burning with irons, punching… That kind of fighting.
I have the scars to prove it. One on my belly from a knife cutting incident.
Our biggest fights happened at night. We shared a bed. My sister was big on “her side.” If she felt I was intruding on her side, the fighting would begin. She also had a problem with my foot touching her. So, of course, any chance I could, I’d sneak my fucked up feet on her side and ever so slightly brush it up against her leg. As soon as I would do that, all hell would break loose.
“YOU TOUCHED ME WITH YOUR FOOT, STAY ON YOUR SIDE.”
“I was on my side, you big baby, shutup and go to sleep”
“You were not, you’re doing it on purpose, brat.”
“I don’t make trash, I burn it…”
Then the hitting would begin. We’d usually end up on the floor, rolling around, scratching, screaming, crying, hitting and spitting until my dad would come in with the belt, wack us both a few times to seperate us and throw us back in our bed.
I remember one night in particular. I touched her with my foot, she kicked me in my gut and it was on.
My dad came in, screaming and grabbed us both by the arm and told us to get out of our bed.
My sister screamed. “She was on MY SIDE.”
He told her to be quiet and for us to sit on the floor and wait for him. We were sure he was going to get his belt and we were in for another beating.
That didn’t happen. Instead, he came in with a measuring tape and a roll of masking tape.
Was he going to tape our mouths shut?
We had no idea.
He threw all of our blankets off and started measuring. He then took the roll of masking tape and rolled it down the middle of our bed.
“THERE!” Exclaimed in his every so fucking hilarious mexican accent.
“EVEN STEVEN!!!!!!!!!! You both keep all body parts on your side. If you cross “The Line” you will be in trouble. Now get in bed and if I hear another word…”
We were stunned. As soon as he left the room we gave each other dirty looks, then started busting up. We couldn’t stop laughing. There was a piece of tape down the center of our bed and he said “EVEN STEVEN”.
Now that I am a parent, I can totally appreciate the desperation of that move on my dad’s part. When you’re trying to go to bed and the kids won’t shutup, you get very creative as to how you will fix whatever the problem is that is keeping them up.
I’ve found that threatening to lay on their floor and fart all night, slowly poisoning them with my bodily gases always gets my boys to shut up and go to sleep.
But tape down the middle of the bed? That has to be the greatest one ever.