hen our three sons were about ten, eleven
and twelve years old we began to send them
home to England periodically so they would
get to know their grandparents. Of course
they travelled under supervision of the
airline, usually changing in Atlanta where they were escorted
to their connecting flight. It worked well and in those days
we never had any qualms about sending them alone.
My husband and I were working parents and, apart from the
time we could not have taken to visit, there was the question
of being able to afford the air fares. We had emigrated when
Clifford was three years old, Graham was nineteen months
and Raymond was just five weeks, but despite this we
were determined that our children would grow up to know
their grandparents.
On one visit my mother, a staunch matriarch of the
family, grilled the boys about the way in which we were
raising them. Were they given too many liberties and
everything they wanted (like American children according to
my mother), or was I being as strict as I should be (being
British). Graham, eleven years old at the time had always had
a deep gruff voice and his response to my mother was "Nana
-- you shouldn't worry about us and my mother -- because my
mother could rule Russia." I was amused by this statement
and made the mistake of telling the guys I worked with. From
that day on I was known as "Ma the Czar."
I often wondered after that whether in fact I was being too
strict, British style, the way my mother had always been. But
during discussions around the Thanksgiving or Christmas
table years later when the three of them were grown and the
subject was brought up, they always assured me that, had I
not been the way I was during their youth, when my husband
was away for many months at a time, they
would not have been the men they are today.
Sweet solace!
Of course there are different ways of
W
By Mavis E. Smith
KIDS
Then and Now
parenting and today the way of raising kids differs greatly
from what we thought was right during my generation.
It used to be 'Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child.' Now,
the thought of a rod or the very mention of physical
punishment where a child is concerned will have neighbors,
the police department and social services banging on our
doors, though I was happy to hear recently on the news that
the Pope now condones spanking! We do seem, however, to
have reverted to 'Spoil the Child and Spare the Rod'. My
original beliefs, methods and disciplines seem to be no longer
relevant in today's promiscuous society.
Now we have grandchildren we have had to acclimate our-
selves to a new way of parenting. My youngest son has five
children, ranging in age from eleven years to twenty two. I
have been quite involved with them over the years and I
doubt any one of them has ever heard the phrase 'Children
Should be Seen and Not heard', very familiar to me and my
generation, or 'Don't speak with your mouth full." Now,
when we are all gathered around the dinner table it is my son
who enquires of his kids, in between chomping down on a
piece of meat or carrot al dente, "So, what did you guys do
at school today? Tell me about your day." And five voices will
be raised in unison talking over one another, telling their all,
and giggling and laughing at some of the incidences, in
between (or sometimes with) mouths full. It fair makes
my hair curl!
On the other hand they are a nice bunch, my grandkids. I
really do have to admit to that. They are kind and
considerate of one another, in between blows to the body or
kicks under the table. They are respectful of adults and clear
up their rooms periodically when they can no longer find
clean socks or underwear. They clean their teeth before going
to bed and maintain healthy grades at school.
Raising kids nowadays -- well, it's a whole different attitude.
We spent our time apart from nurturing, cooking (mostly
from scratch), cleaning, laundering cloth diapers, and
mending what needed repairing to make it last just a bit
longer (darning socks was my coup d'état).
Life is so much easier nowadays, so much more casual and,
dare I say, enjoyable; and now, when I am asked
to “please pass the butter,” it is with
emphasis on the tee's, a sly glance in my
direction and a big grin from ear to ear.
What a joy grandkids are!
30
SOUTHERN SENIOR MAGAZINE
| Winter 2016
