We used to have the drama of going to the front yard and cut our own switch from the smoke tree.
Mom usually chickened out by then, but the switch was right there on the table for when Dad got home.
Actual whippin’s were rare and nothing more than a bruise or slight welt, but I still remember why I got a couple of them now 50+ years later.
It sounds like your mother was actually training you for a career in landscaping.