I did a little weeding over the weekend and I’m paying for it now. Nothing I can’t handle but the twinges remind me of my age. This is where my generation pays for the lack of love from our parents. We pad our kids from head to toe but our folks didn’t so we’ve all got cracky knees and sore backs from time to time. If only they’d loved us more…Aleve would be out of business.
Some parents take it a bit too far but I can see a need for the basics. Don’t want Jonny falling off his bike and scrambling his thinker. Jonny already can barely read, gotta protect what he’s got. Unfortunately my generation’s parents took a looser approach.
They let us ride in the back of pick-ups, play with pointy objects, and helmets were what Mork and Gazoo wore not something we strapped on before leaving the house. My folks gave my brother and me toys that consisted of two hard glass balls on the end of strings. They even had a handy plastic ring attached for better flingability. And my parents were the safe ones on the block. We didn’t get to hippity-hop down a hill in the winter or play with fireworks unattended like some kids did. Our Barbies and GI Joes didn’t get airtime strapped to an Estees rocket. My foks wouldn’t let us play with those things 😦
My neighbors had a son who was routinely dragged around the yard by the string his mother used to keep his mittens with his coat. Some objects should be avoided if there’s more than one child in the family. Things like mitten strings and play handcuffs and lawn jarts. And certainly anything that consists of two balls of glass on a string.
Our parents probably didn’t love us any less than parents now. We just know more now. And more. And more…. I’m very glad that I raised my kids when I did. There’s too much stuff now. If love of a child is proven by the amount of useless baby products in your home…. my kids got very little love.
I didn’t love them enough to have a diaper/wipie warmer or a heated cozy to keep butt spackle pliant and toasty, or a cribside music player that plays animal sounds or womb noises. Someone loves their kid enough to want to listen to womb noises, good for them. I drew the line at the second set of Power Rangers, womb noises? hell no.
My parents never loved me enough to pad all the corners in the house. They let us walk right into the tables knowing we probably wouldn’t do it a second time. They didn’t love us enough to make us wear seat belts for kids. They never wore them much either. My Mother only put her’s on on Sundays. I’m not sure why, I guess she didn’t want to mess up her church clothes. My brother and I used ours as weapons. I’ve mentioned before that I think everyone in my generation knows about someone who fell out of a car when it rounded a corner. If it didn’t happen to your family it did to a friend or a cousin.
Our swimming floatation devices were a chunk of styrofoam with a belt running through it. That pretty much sums it up. The funny thing is even though we weren’t as safe then in a way we were safer. We had a whole neighborhood to roam in. You knew your neighbors, your neighbors were your friends. Kids could play outside, everyone knew who’s kid was who’s and who could do what. No adults ran our games and we policed ourselves when it came to cheaters. We didn’t have as much stuff and we had fun anyway. And somehow we all grew up in one piece. We’re a little achy when we do too much weeding and a little creaky on rainy mornings but we did okay, even though our parents obviously didn’t love us that much.