My mother would have brained us had we acted like the runts at the coffee shop.
My mother entered the world 72 years ago, the oldest of six. My mother and her three sisters not only shared one bedroom, they shared one bed — she learned lots about sharing and humility.
In the late 1950s, when she graduated from high school, there was no money for college or business school. My mother got a job in a bank. She became engaged to my father and awaited his return from the military.
They married when she was only 19. They had their first daughter, Kathleen, within the year — they’d have five more children by 1972 — and she was thrust head first into the adult world. She took on her child-rearing responsibilities with great passion and love.
In the late '50s and throughout the '60s, most mothers weren’t yet influenced by new-age parenting techniques — ideas that had still been incubating on college campuses. They didn’t know they were supposed to place their child’s self-esteem and ego above all things.
And so they raised their kids with the same common-sense parenting techniques that had been used by moms for centuries.
In our home, my mother established a very clear order. She was the adult and she was in charge. Why? Because she said so, that’s why.
My parents were not our best friends. We were not there to make them feel good about themselves. They lived in the adult world and we lived in the children’s world and there was no blurring of the lines.
When we complained of being bored, my mother said, “You want something to do, I’ll give you something to do,” and we were soon mowing the lawn or dusting tables.
My mother knew, instinctively, that children want parents who set clear boundaries — not parents who are their buddies.
