Modern parents vs. an institute called grandma

My husband and I have three children. Proud parents, you know. The daughter is seven, the middle son is five and the youngest son is four years old. My husband and I try to make good people of our descendants, hardworking people, and people with healthy perspective on life. The husband is a military personnel and thus we have covered the segment of discipline and building a strong character. Mom is there, of course, to answer endless questions and she is responsible for the styling, among other things.

Unfortunately, a lot does not depend only on us. Growing up is greatly influenced by the society, school environment, friends, peers, puberty, temperament and, of course, the institute called grandma. Grandma has a very important role in the lives of all of us. Person who has had a grandmother and spent time with her knows what life wisdom, endless love and unconditional protection mean (besides the trauma of wiping the face with a licked thumb). Person whose children have a grandmother knows what it means undermining parental authority. While we, modern mothers, try to raise our children in accordance with current trends, juggling between housework, career and family, the institute called grandma is really, not to be offensive, always available. For helping, for supporting, for babysitting, for cooking. Because grandmothers are, if you didn't know, also superheroes who protect and defend grandchildren even when they make mistakes and do something "bad". However, in cohesion with the abovementioned is grandmothers’ patriarchal upbringing, which often implies a certain dose of superstition or grandmother's tales.

I believe that, in principle, any superstition may have even arisen for practical reasons that have ceased to be a reasonable basis as we, as a society and community, have evolved and modernized. Now, as grandmothers get older and they become more and more like their favourite creatures called grandchildren (not to say stubborn), it's getting harder to defend against two crossfires - undermining parental authority and grandma's superstition tales. To clarify all this I am writing about, I will mention few examples.

I remember, as if it were yesterday, when I gave birth to my first child. Shock! If pregnancy is really different condition, then the postpartum period is utterly different condition! In addition to the great pain, I also had a strong desire to breastfeed the child, so there were episodes and episodes of breastfeeding with crying, to which I would be reprehended "Don't breastfeed her when you are nervous, your milk will be peppery!" Scientifically based fact, mother, yeah. Good job. If you didn't know, when a small child cries a lot, then "he/she was watched by evil eyes". If the child has poor speech development or a poor vocabulary, then she/he must change the altitude (one car ride to the seaside will significantly affect the child's speaking skills). I wouldn't want to sound like a Topshop commercial because - that's not all! We also have "Don't let the child look over himself/herself, it's not a good thing", "You must not take the child out of the house for 40 days after birth", "Don't kiss him/her on the feet, he/she will have bad dreams" ... and so on, indefinitely.

I support simple logic, in fact, logical empiricism. I believe that children should be taught about everything and introduced to everything. I believe in the philosophy of life that children should not be forbidden to do something and not to explain to them why. However, my philosophy and the philosophy of the institute called grandma are in a huge collision. Which sometimes results in high blood pressure and mild nervousness.

Fortunately, there is His Majesty Compromise. Because I also had, as my mother's child, a grandmother. My grandmother is really an institution for me. And I want my kids to have the same memory of their grandmothers. As much as they undermine our parental authority. And they convinced us that we shouldn't walk under a ladder and go out in the bad luck hours.

Author: Mom Dada

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