There is a good deal of talk nowadays about the “quality” of time spent with children. That word would have confused my mother. She raised seven children and I doubt if she ever once considered the quality of time spent with them. But quantity! Now that is something she understood … for she was always there.
Back then your parents came in packages marked “Don’t Disturb … Except in Emergencies.” You never bothered them with things like snacks (the apple barrel and the peanut butter jar always had something in them) and brothers and sisters were handy when noses or bottoms needed to be wiped.
Sibling problems were easily solved; you looked after your baby sisters and worshipped your older siblings. In those days, things were shared. You shared your bed with two sisters (who wet it at least once a week), and you shared your bike and your bath. One did not grow up selfish.
Pets were an important part of your upbringing. You were allowed to raise cats, dogs, rabbits and chickens, learning all the while about affection, responsibility and death. The back yard was a cemetery of small bodies, each fervently wept and prayed over.
No spankings cloud my memories, yet I know I got my fair share of paddlings. I do remember breaking a vase once and hiding the pieces. Mom found them and we had a little chat about accidents and how forgivable they were if you owned up to them.
It made me unafraid of making honest mistakes. We learned independence early, seldom being told “you can’t;” more often hearing “give it a try, you can do it.”
I have no recollections of family outings or tender shared moments. But when I was eight and had pneumonia, my 110 pound, five foot mother carried me piggy back to the bathroom, for a week, when I was too ill to walk.
I have discovered qualities in myself that she must have unconsciously taught; a feeling for beauty in creation, a sense of determination that is seldom daunted and a respect for the frailties of people. By just being there she taught a lot of ideals in an unobtrusive way.
There is much to be said about quality of time spent with children, but being there day after day, imprinting values you believe in has special attributes too. I am glad I was a recipient of that experience.
Originally printed in Our Family, Sept. 1991.
