The prompt for Linda G Hill’sStream of Consciousness Saturday (#SoCS) is “cent/scent/sent.” Use them in any form you like. Use one, use two or use them all. Bonus points if you use all three, and Cheryl will put your next drink on David’s tab. (I could never resist a free drink Linda!)
I have a fantastic sense of smell. My children often tease me about it because I smell things that no one else can smell. “You and your nose Mammy.”Scent is important. Sometimes it evokes a memory; it can give us happy feelings or sad feelings.
I have photos in my camera roll that make me feel warm, hungry, refreshed, excited and sometimes nostalgic. It’s not just the image that conjures up feelings, it’s also the smell associated with the image.
Here’s my favourites.
The refreshing scent of the sea and freshly washed up seaweed.
Frothy Nespresso.
Black Magic Chocolates.
Roses
Coconut Oil
Freshly Cut Grass
1 cent, 2 cent and 5 cent coins. (For when we play cards at Christmas) Copper coins remind me of childhood days!
Aw the lovely smell of Cotton after she’s had a bath.
My son sent me this photo. This little munchkin will be joining the family this Christmas. I can’t wait to hold him/her and inhale the most gorgeous scent of a new born baby. This is my favourite smell in the whole world!
For today’s post I decided to do a bit of research in order to determine what style of parenting I was raised with.
Bear with me…this is not a boring lesson on parenting psychology. Sure who am I to lecture on parenting styles?
In the 1960’s, phychologist Diana Baumrind worked on developing ‘parenting styles theory’. She categorised them into four styles; authoritarian, authoritative, permissive and neglectful. The model was later redefined by Maccoby and Martin in 1983.
After inspecting each model, I’ve put my parents into a category!
Here’s what each one means (Just in case you’re not in the know).
Authoritarian;strict rules, harsh punishment if rules are not followed, little or no reasoning for the rules and punishments, high expectations, unsympathetic, unaccepting, cold, demand respect.
Authoritative;warm and nurturing, reason instead of demanding, encourage independence, consistent with enforcing boundaries, earn their child’s respect rather than demand it, encourage independence, teach about values and moral behaviour.
Permissive;set very few rules and are reluctant to enforce these rules, few boundaries.
Neglectful;they don’t set firm boundaries or high standards for their children, uninvolved in their childrens’ lives.
Going by this model I can safely say that my mother was an authoritative parent.
My father falls into a completely different parenting style category. One that’s called, ‘Don’t Tell Your Mother.’
I’ll explain…
While Mam was the rule maker, Dad was the rule breaker. We only broke the rules when Daddy Dearest encouraged us to.
When Mam would be getting ready for bingo he’d say to her, ‘Now Mam, get these to bed before you go because they won’t go for me.’
She’d have the supper in us, the jammies on and we’d be all tucked up in bed as she was leaving. She’d walk across the terrace to get the bingo bus to either Kells, Tullyvin, Shercock, or Kingscourt. Different towns on different nights.
As soon as she was out of sight, Dad would come up the stairs, ‘She’s gone,’ he’d cheer. We’d get up and the fun would begin. On the bright summer evenings he’d let us get dressed and go outside to play. ‘Don’t tell your mother,’ he’d warn.
On dark or wet evenings he’d let us watch telly, or play games. He’d sprinkle sugar on the floor (we had linoleum) so we could slide up and down in our socks. He’d give us weetabix spread with Golden Syrup or butter and sugar. He’d be a donkey and let us ride on his back. He’d play hide and seek with us…letting us hide in Mam’s wardrobe where we were totally banned from.
He’d always have us back in bed before Mam would get home from bingo. ‘Now, make sure you don’t tell your mother,’ he’d remind us.
One night she missed the bus and came home to find us all outside playing. He was in the doghouse for a week after that.
Sometimes he’d take us to work with him instead of school, especially if the weather was good. ‘Don’t tell your mother.’ Of course we didn’t tell!
He’d give us money for Mrs Fulton’s shop. ‘Don’t tell your mother, or she mightn’t buy sweets for yas tomorrow.’
When we’d get into trouble with Mam, he’d comfort us. If she said no, he’d say ‘Go on, but don’t tell your mother.’
A Hard Working Man
We’ve always laughed and joked about his style of parenting down through the years. Mam knew rightly what he got up to behind her back. Their opposed views on child raring didn’t cause any issues. They had a high regard for each other and worked it all out between them. Their zest for a fun-filled family life made everything okay!
Having said all that, Dad had limits too. He didn’t let us away with bad manners. We had tremendous respect for him and we knew the boundaries. He didn’t demand anything from us or lecture us…we just knew not to cross the line. I think my parents had the balance right!
Mrs Fulton’s and Francie McDonald’s; the two shops in Bailieborough that bring back fond memories for many grown-ups from that era.
I bet every town has a sweet shop they remember with fondness.
Mrs Fulton had her little shop about a five minute walk from town close to a couple of housing estates; Lake View and Drumbannon. We had to pass the shop on our way home from school. We didn’t have money to spend every day buy when we did it was a treat. It may have been 2p—or 5p if we were lucky. 10p was a very good day and it was likely given to you secretly by your Granny. In my case it was Uncle Johnny who sneaked the money into our hands when Auntie Ellen wasn’t watching. But I think she knew.
We could but a bag of ha’penny sweets with 5p. Or an ice-lolly with a bag of crisps. I remember buying crisps for 2p. We bought Black Jacks, Fruit Salads, Golfball chewing gums; two for a penny. Candy lipstick and whistles, penny bars, cola bottles, jelly babies, gobstoppers, milk teeth (my favourite).
Ice-cream cones weren’t affordable for a mother with five or six children (or more), but in Mrs Fulton’s you could buy a slice of ice-cream between two wafers. She’d cut it to whatever size the child could afford.
She was very kind and had great patience for us all down through the years. She knew every child’s name too. If a child among a group was the only one with no money, she’d give him something.
Francie McDonald was the very same with the troves of children that went into his shop. Francie had a glass-top counter where we could see the boxes of sweets on display. Even though he was almost completely blind, he knew exactly where every sweet was in the shop. The shelves behind him were stacked with jars and boxes of sweets too. It didn’t matter how long it took for you to decide what to buy with your 5p, he waited. “One cola bottle…one chewing gum…no two chewing gums…no just one…and a penny bar…annnnd…annnnd…another chewing gum.”
He never complained and never uttered a cross word to any child. Often he’d have to gather a pile of ha’pennies from his glass counter where a small child would reach up and drop their money on the counter.
Francie had every sweet that existed! Wonderful memories of him and Mrs Fulton!
🍬 🍬 🍬 🍬
Thank you Lucy for your drawing of Francie’s sweet shop.
