As a parent there are certain things that just cause me to cringe up and freeze. As an adult it makes me want to grab the other parent by the shoulders and shake them until they come to their senses. Yet, as a mother, it opens my heart to the children in their path.
I know how I was raised. I had my mouth washed out with soap, I was reared with a belt, my parents raised their voices to get my attention, I did not interrupt conversations solely for the sheer purpose of respect to my elders. I was given chores to do, I had curfews, I had responsibilities as the oldest child, we did yard work with my parents, homework was an understanding. I attended family functions, had things taken away if I misbehaved, stood in corners, didn't slam doors or stomp when I was angry. As a matter of fact, I knew better than to let my parents know I was upset with their verdicts. Respect. Genuine respect, force driven by fear.
Yes. I said it. Fear.
I was horribly afraid of my parents. Not in a whole "GOOD HEAVENS, it's Hannibal Lecter!" way. No, No. I was afraid of that belt. I was afraid of mother reaching across the dinner table in front of our friends and loved ones and slapping me in the back of the head for smacking. I was afraid of my father's deep bass tone when he finally broke calm temperament and "lost his cool" with us. I was afraid of the rate of speed in which my grandmothers could chase us down with those wooden spoons. I knew that if I didn't want my ass red and burning from my misbehaved self inflicted storm of misery, to sit my ass down and to be seen and not heard when the adults were conversating or when it was not my time to speak.
It was also because of this reason that my generation was not overweight, and we did not have chronic colds and days missed from school, and persistently over active parents in our lives. WE as children, entertained ourselves, outside - regardless of the temperatures. We also gave our parents spare time to themselves when we did this, which kept them from attempting to maintain a perfect grasp over ever little sniffle we had, and few and far between they came because we played with enough kids to maintain our immune systems. We stayed busy, stayed out of our parents hair, and in return, they didn't take us to the doctor every week. Simple.
We had time for home cooked meals, we had time for church on Sunday, and we had time for one another. It was okay to go to sleep with the windows wide open and the doors unlocked. Playing outside by ourselves wasn't dangerous. There weren't fabricated half ass entertaining shows on television about negligent parents letting their kids run wild or big fluffy rabbits cooking alone in the kitchen with no moral building story line. We said "Yes ma'am. No sir. Yes sir. No ma'am." out of respect for ourselves and others, every time we were spoken to. My mother DID not repeat herself. My father was a known presence in the room and corrected behavior with simply a look.
Isn't is insane how much times have changed in just the last twenty years?
No comments:
Post a Comment