I am finally at the age where I have started to preface telling my kids off with ”Back in my day...”
The first time the phrase slipped out I was horrified, because I had always associated it with ancient adults labouring under the delusion that ‘their day’ was a golden era of youthful innocence which our delinquent generation could never access.
My Ma would say: “You’re lucky to get a dinner in school - back in my day we had to walk home for lunch.” I would stare at her, thinking that I would have loved to go home for lunch, although I didn’t dare say this because ‘back in my day’, speaking back to your mother could result in being threatened with the dreaded slipper.
Don’t get me wrong, she never hit me with the slipper – but the sight of it in her hand was enough to put the fear of God in me to the point where I still get flashbacks walking through the pyjama aisle in Primark.
As a daughter I was resentful. However, as an adult and a mother of four boys I am empathetic to her plight. We cherry-pick things from our youth that seemed idyllic to us, while using it to disparage the way young people are doing things today.
I overheard an ‘aul hand’ the other day saying: “Back in my day there was no such thing as ADHD or autism. Kids these days need more discipline.”
As we got talking I agreed with him. There was no such thing as ADHD or autism because those diagnoses hadn’t been defined yet – but that doesn’t mean neurodiversity didn’t exist.
We were simply known as ‘oddballs’ or the ‘mad kids’. I say ‘we’, because I myself have what is known as ADHD or, as my mother was told in the nineties, ADD – attention deficit disorder (although I believe she thought the acronym stood for ‘A Disappointing Daughter’).
I write this with laughter because I know she saw something in me that allowed her to believe my diagnosis was not an ailment. She refused medication because she was afraid that drugs would dampen my creative energy and completely disregarded the label throughout my life – to the point where I only found out a few years ago that I had a bona fide diagnosis.
I told my mother I resented that she chose not to medicate me, to which she replied: “But you did well without it – look what you have achieved!” And while I appreciated the compliment, I still couldn’t help thinking: but did it have to be so hard?
Having a son with ADHD and autism has taught me that although this world is built for neurotypical people, it is also malleable. We are lucky that we can finally say things like: ”Back in my day there were no sensory rooms for kids who are overwhelmed, or special allowances made.” When we hear people say things like this it is usually accompanied by “We just got on with it”.
I suppose that’s the crux of the matter. We enjoy saying the phrase because it usually alludes to the fact that we had a tougher time of it, but still managed to get by unscathed.
The phrase “it’ll harden ye” springs to mind, but of course none of us make it out of childhood entirely unscathed. There will always be something in those formative years that even the most pampered child can complain to a psychologist about one day.
While I want my own children to be resilient, I don’t wish them to be inured to the world. I want them to look at a problem and see it as a hurdle, not a blockade.
We cherry-pick things from our youth that seemed idyllic to us, while using it to disparage the way young people are doing things today
I see this in them already as they are certainly not afraid to vent their frustrations at my parenting techniques and I must say, I do occasionally long for back in my Ma’s day when I could wave my slipper at them... but alas, they know the number for Childline by heart and are all too aware of their human rights.
I am learning that as a parent, I don’t always get it right but I tell myself the same thing I tell my son when he comes home with a 12th place medal from school: “At least you tried your best.”
When the day comes where they want to offload all their grievances on me I will simply apologise sincerely for my failings, give them the number to a good counsellor and hope they have a good enough job to afford them long term, because I have an awful feeling that I will be saying: “Back in my day we had the NHS.”
