Dear followers,
A sad day when I decided to sell my soul to the advertisers. Please be aware that the 37p I'll earn per month will go towards feeding my children.
Best wishes,
Lorraine
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Lorraine Jenkin is an author, journalist and blogger.
Thursday 23 February 2012
Smacking bottoms
I occasionally get asked to be a "layman commentator" for Radio Wales. I have to hovver on a particular spot where the phone sounds best, and then have to make a snap decision as to whether to give my planned answer or to make up something completely new when the question is different to what I'd expected. Last week was a prime example...
David Lammy MP had said that people have told him that the riots happened because parents are banned from smacking their kids. I thought this was a bit of a cop out to say just because some liberal lefty said you can't do something in your own home when the doors are shut. Firstly, people tend to do what they re going to do anyway. Secondly, lefties say lots of things, but no one takes much notice of the other things (I've been called a woodie leftie on many occasions, so I should know, and there are lots of other ways to discipline your kids other than wacking them.
But then I got to thinking...
Lots of people say, "my parents used to smack me (not batter me and I know there is a difference) and it never did me any harm " and we usually nod nicely and move on, but then I thought - my parents smacked me, and I m the goodest person I know! I always obey rules and get very worried when people I am with don't - I still feel guilty for going through a door the other day when there was a notice saying Use Other Door ( I couldn't see another door, so sneaked out anyway - nothing too bad happened!). So maybe smacking does work - PROPERLY work.
Dogs cuff and bite their naughty puppies, cats scratch the eyes out of their naughty kittens and maybe so in Nature we should whack our kids? Maybe we should accept that, no, it's not very pleasant, but neither is nagging children to eat their greens, but we still feel it's right for the greater good to do that.
Maybe we are thinking our kids are more flimsy than they really are - I mean, what would our kids really say if we all suddenly started smacking them again?
"didn't hurt..."
" ha ha - you got told off!"
" can't make me"
" smack him too, it was his idea "
David Lammy MP had said that people have told him that the riots happened because parents are banned from smacking their kids. I thought this was a bit of a cop out to say just because some liberal lefty said you can't do something in your own home when the doors are shut. Firstly, people tend to do what they re going to do anyway. Secondly, lefties say lots of things, but no one takes much notice of the other things (I've been called a woodie leftie on many occasions, so I should know, and there are lots of other ways to discipline your kids other than wacking them.
But then I got to thinking...
Lots of people say, "my parents used to smack me (not batter me and I know there is a difference) and it never did me any harm " and we usually nod nicely and move on, but then I thought - my parents smacked me, and I m the goodest person I know! I always obey rules and get very worried when people I am with don't - I still feel guilty for going through a door the other day when there was a notice saying Use Other Door ( I couldn't see another door, so sneaked out anyway - nothing too bad happened!). So maybe smacking does work - PROPERLY work.
Dogs cuff and bite their naughty puppies, cats scratch the eyes out of their naughty kittens and maybe so in Nature we should whack our kids? Maybe we should accept that, no, it's not very pleasant, but neither is nagging children to eat their greens, but we still feel it's right for the greater good to do that.
Maybe we are thinking our kids are more flimsy than they really are - I mean, what would our kids really say if we all suddenly started smacking them again?
"didn't hurt..."
" ha ha - you got told off!"
" can't make me"
" smack him too, it was his idea "
Monday 6 February 2012
The Future Women of Wales...
There are times when all we hear about the youth of today is how obese / malnurished they are and how they spend all their time sitting in front of computer games, eating Toffee Crisps and cyber bullying each other. It's quite depressing to know that if you send your kids out to play in the streets, they'll probably get squashed by a massive timber lorry, savaged by a pit bull terrior or someone will ring the police to report that they're skipping in a funny way.
Therefore it did my heart good when it snowed on Saturday - snowed enough to scupper everyone's plans. I was scoffing cottage pie in a cafe, and had to abandon my last few chips - it was that bad.
Our daughter's friend's birthday party was cancelled, so instead we all piled to her house to have party tea there instead. The entertainment was changed to sledging....
Within ten minutes, there were fifteen girls wrapped up and wellied, chucking snowballs at grown-ups and the chickens. Luckily our village has a prime sledging slope - steep, bumpy enough to ruin your coccyx, with a small level bit before petering out into a river: perfect. We all traipsed down, dragging our sledges behind us.
These supposed obese / unfit / computer nerds were soon hurling themselves down the slopes again and again. A sheep got taken out, then a dad. Someone's welly came off, gloves got buried, hats got tangled up in the brambles, but still they kept going. When there wasn't a sledge going spare, they head-over-heeled or sat astride a younger sister. They all had their own styles - some tucked in with perfect streamlining, others hadn't much of a clue and spun off on the first bump, but they all kept going...
It started getting dark, someone had lost their sock, and there was suspected damage to a knee. Despite being a top-skidder when I was younger, I'd bought it over a pile of frozen sheep poo and had crashed and burned, much to the delight of my girls. So it was time to go.
We finally called "Last Sledge" and a big sister went to the bottom to get a photo. Fifteen girls piled down - those who didn't have a sledge dived down on their stomachs, with blood-curdling cries.
My thought about what the photo would be warmed my heart - all those bright strong girls enjoying themselves with no need for a hair straightener or a Future WAG t-shirt in sight. As we trudged back, dragging the younger ones on their sledges and then scoffed piles and piles of sandwiches and birthday cake, I was excited to see the photo.
It turned out to be a murky dark splodge, as it must have been darker than I thought...
Therefore it did my heart good when it snowed on Saturday - snowed enough to scupper everyone's plans. I was scoffing cottage pie in a cafe, and had to abandon my last few chips - it was that bad.
Our daughter's friend's birthday party was cancelled, so instead we all piled to her house to have party tea there instead. The entertainment was changed to sledging....
Within ten minutes, there were fifteen girls wrapped up and wellied, chucking snowballs at grown-ups and the chickens. Luckily our village has a prime sledging slope - steep, bumpy enough to ruin your coccyx, with a small level bit before petering out into a river: perfect. We all traipsed down, dragging our sledges behind us.
These supposed obese / unfit / computer nerds were soon hurling themselves down the slopes again and again. A sheep got taken out, then a dad. Someone's welly came off, gloves got buried, hats got tangled up in the brambles, but still they kept going. When there wasn't a sledge going spare, they head-over-heeled or sat astride a younger sister. They all had their own styles - some tucked in with perfect streamlining, others hadn't much of a clue and spun off on the first bump, but they all kept going...
It started getting dark, someone had lost their sock, and there was suspected damage to a knee. Despite being a top-skidder when I was younger, I'd bought it over a pile of frozen sheep poo and had crashed and burned, much to the delight of my girls. So it was time to go.
We finally called "Last Sledge" and a big sister went to the bottom to get a photo. Fifteen girls piled down - those who didn't have a sledge dived down on their stomachs, with blood-curdling cries.
My thought about what the photo would be warmed my heart - all those bright strong girls enjoying themselves with no need for a hair straightener or a Future WAG t-shirt in sight. As we trudged back, dragging the younger ones on their sledges and then scoffed piles and piles of sandwiches and birthday cake, I was excited to see the photo.
It turned out to be a murky dark splodge, as it must have been darker than I thought...
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