I don't think there was anything strange about how my parents punished me; if I'd done something bad enough to deserve it. During my childhood years to age seven, I was told to go stand in the corner, go to my room or go to bed early, got lectured/screamed at, spanked bare bottom or only wearing briefs, or wearing pants with briefs underneath, which wasn't very effective because there was too much of a clothing buffer to feel any real hurtful, stinging pain.
From age seven to thirteen, I'd still get lectured/yelled at and sometimes got smacked/spanked somewhere while fully clothed.
Mom mostly used a bare hand to smack me until I'd reached nine. Then she realized that she was just hurting her hand much more than it'd hurt me, so she started to use items such as a plastic fly swatter, wood ruler, (wood rulers broke too easily though) a wood or plastic cooking spoon or spatula, and maybe another item or two. However, once I'd turned twelve she eventually gave up. The last time she hit me pretty hard with a wood ruler, it broke in half after I'd only received a couple of strikes. Since there weren't anymore rulers readily available for her to grab and she was still pretty upset, she told me to go down in the basement workshop and find her a scrap piece of a 2"x 4" wood stud with some length and bring it up to her, so she could whack me with something that'd actually hurt me. I did as she asked and when I soon returned with a piece two to three feet long and gave it to her, she was so surprised she began laughing... then I did too; and the continuation of my punishment for being a naughty boy that day ceased. Thereafter, I just got lectured/screamed at by mom and sometimes heard her say, 'wait till your father gets home.'
Dad mostly used a bare hand, but sometimes I'd get a boot in the ass (he was a tough Army man) and once or twice he did use his leather belt to give my backside some swift strikes while I was clothed. The last time he ever whacked me pretty hard was up side of the head with a bare hand is when I was fourteen and not facing him, which really pissed me off. A real cheap shot if you will. When I immediately turned around and faced him, he could clearly see that now I was quite angry. After several hard words were loudly spoken between us and by some miracle we didn't get in an all out violent brawl, he never touched me again to administer discipline. Thereafter, I just got lectured/yelled at by dad, and sometimes heard him say, 'be careful and don't do anything too stupid, so your ass gets thrown in jail.'
And no my ass never got thrown in jail even though I sometimes got into trouble, (who didn't?) but it was never anything serious and truthfully, by age fourteen I didn't fear dad anymore because of a difference of physical strength. When fourteen I stood two inches taller than him (he was 5'.11") and also probably weighted ten pounds more than him. And no I wasn't a fat slob nor a skinny bean pole either. (I used to drink a lot of whole milk throughout my childhood and teen years, because back than the motto was, 'it does a body good,' and maybe that saying was true) I was in very good, solid and rugged shape. The only reason why I didn't turn around and immediately punch dad in the face as hard as I could, after the last time he'd smacked me up side of the head pretty hard was respect. Even though I sometimes disrespected both of my parents, I respected them much more often than not, and eventually understood why they did what they'd done. Sometimes getting lectured or screamed at wasn't adequate enough punishment to get the point through my thick skull. To this day I still have a great, respectful relationship with mom. We talk multiple times a week and I'd die for her if need be. I also had the same... if not a better relationship with dad, until he took his final breath and passed away from stage four lung cancer on 12/21/16. Since dad died, there's seldom a day that goes by that I don't think about him. Besides mom, he was the only other unconditional best friend I ever had. Just remembering a handful of the seemingly countless, adventurous fun times him and I had together going fresh/saltwater fishing, boating, hunting, camping, snowmobiling, repairing automobiles, performing various construction projects and from having a few beers to getting shit faced drunk etc, certainly outweigh the occasional, unpleasant remembrances we had throughout my childhood and teenage years