“Mum says it is okay to kiss and hug someone you love.”
Case #1 – Foreign Language Film
I was watching a foreign movie wherein the protagonist who was a student of psychology remarked to a guest at a party:
“New studies show that if you cuddle your children too much, they will become drug addicts later in life.”
A surprising remark!
I understood that physical contact in terms of warm cuddles and hugs were extremely beneficial and comforting to all, when appropriate. Our brain secrete hormones like serotonin and oxytocin into the body when we’re physically affectionate, producing feelings of connection, bonding, and trust.
Once parenting progressed past the ‘spare the rod and spoil the child,’ philosophy so prevalent in the post-war era, I’d understood that there was no such thing as too much hugs for a young child. Studies seemed to confirm this.
“The amount of physical contact between infants and their caregivers can affect children at the molecular level…..children who had been more distressed as infants and had received less physical contact had a molecular profile that was underdeveloped for their age. Sciencedaily.com
So there were consequences for children who lacked physical contact. Children raised in Romanian orphanages, for example, with negligible physical contact lagged behind in all milestones and displayed recalcitrant behavioural issues, like anxiety or mal-adapted relationships.
Years ago, I spoke to a woman who was struggling through a messy divorce. She was adamant the only thing that kept her sane through the whole messy legal process, was to have regular massage from a therapist – the emotional benefits of physical touch! She then went on to change careers from a desk job to opening her own successful massage business.
So we can all agree that hugs are good, right?
Case #2 – At the Optometrist’s Reception Room
A young colleague is sitting in the Optometrist’s reception area awaiting an eye test. A child is playing there, while its mother is being seen by a clinician in an adjoining room. The child appears to become infatuated with my twenty-something colleague, approaching her, kissing her repeatedly on the arm and hugging my colleague, telling her, “I love you, as she sat waiting for her appointment.
Perhaps the young school-aged child had a disorder, no sense of stranger danger nor any idea of what is socially appropriate, but despite being asked to stop his behaviour by both my colleague and the receptionist, the child continued, saying “Mum says it is okay to kiss and hug someoneyou love.”
Addiction is too strong a word for this situation, but after seeing the film in Case #1 I wondered – Could too many hugs trigger a need in vulnerable individuals that could lead to more risk-taking pursuits? A reaction to an intolerance of discomfort?
A need, desire or dependency for that warm fuzzy bodily feeling triggered by the release of oxytocin/dopamine/serotonin hormones in the brain?
A strong insatiable desire to feel good instantly, when something negative happens to them. Or something that may in the extreme, manifest as a compulsion or an addiction to hugs and physical comfort and even sex or substances that induce similar effects?
The following is a comment found on Reddit in response to the topic:
Couples that cuddle can become addicted to one another. Symptoms of withdraw can occur when apart as a result of the hormone oxytocin, “the cuddling drug.”
This respondent encapsulated what many others said on that thread:
“Physical affection is a drug in almost every sense of the word. I remember towards the end of my last relationship, cuddling literally felt like getting a fix and after we broke up the withdrawal was real.”
From the website Psych central: New research, however, suggests that oxytocin must be used carefully because too much oxytocin (in healthy young adults) can actually result in over-sensitivity to the emotions of others.
Like everything in life, I guess treading the middle path is the best choice.
It’s Friday 13th, one October, in the early seventies and it’s raining hard, in torrents, as it does in summer in a tropical country, like Australia. Construction had started on the Sydney Opera House, (it took 14, instead of the predicted 4 years to complete) and Apollo 16 had launched into space.
Australia in the Seventies
I am young, walking home from school down a very steep road, partly finished with asphalt, wearing an outdated, unfashionable, yellow raincoat. It is a garment made from the kind of thick rubbery plastic that makes one sweat profusely, but fails to thoroughly keep the skin dry – (its sole purpose!). I’m carrying a grey pocked-mark ‘port’, (a school student’s case), with a red handle. I remember feeling pretty lonely, as one is apt to feel when you are of primary school age, alone and have a long walk home from school in the pouring rain.
What was I thinking on this walk home, fifty-odd years ago whilst NASA scanned the universe?
My guess is that I was probably wishing I had more friends to walk home with, so that time would pass more enjoyably. I thought about what life might be like in the future and dreamed of being happy and successful. Something most of us dream of when young.
I remember Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to conquer Everest, had come to visit my school that day and addressed a somewhat bewildered audience of young kids, unsure of the exact significance of this tall stranger. Although I have no memory of his words, I do remember his imposing presence at the microphone as we stood at attention on the parade ground. For him to visit our far-flung school, must have meant that he spent many hours, visiting school children, not only in New Zealand but throughout Australia as well.
Growing up in Australia
What did I do when I arrived home? If the rain had stopped, I’d play with the dog in the backyard, swing on a rusty, ‘Hills Hoist,’ [read: rotary clothesline]. I might visit one or two friends who lived in the same street and ride our bikes, or if my friends and I were feeling creative, we might build cubby houses in the gum trees or make wooden billy carts out of fruit boxes. The splinters in fingers and toes were real!
The Hills Hoist
Rafting down a flooded creek
If the rain continued, we’d build rafts out of anything we could find. As you can see, my brother made a raft out of an old metal panel, presumably laced with tetanus. Later, he confessed sheepishly that it came from the side of a Council depot’s toilet shed! That was the butt of family jokes for a while. (I couldn’t resist the pun!)
Primary kids were never assigned any homework until they reached high school, or if it was allocated, it wasn’t compulsory, so I never thought twice about doing it. And I was one of the more diligent students as you can see by my school report.
Of an evening, I’d read books, sometimes the same ones, over and over again. Titles on loan from the library or A.A. Milne, The *Sue Barton-Student Nurse series, or Two Minute Mysteries. I collected stamps, such a boring hobby when I think about it now, or collect signatures and corny limericks in my autograph book.
Australian Parenting in the Seventies
When I arrived home from school, Mum was usually there relaxing on the lounge and I’d find something to drink: most likely red cordial, [thinking about this now makes my stomach turn], and I’d eat a biscuit or two. I would never dare to eat any more than two biscuits – there was some unwritten house rule about that. I might also follow the biscuit with a banana or apple, perhaps to clean my teeth?
Iced Vo-Vos
Sugar featured strongly in the seventies Aussie diet, as ‘Iced Vo-Vo‘s’ and other biscuits were standard afternoon tea for many Aussie kids. The now infamous ‘Golliwog‘ biscuits, (re-named Scallywags or something more 21st century), were my favourite, in terms of taste. The naming feels so wrong, looking back from the hindsight of our era of political correctness.
Australian Dinners, at my house, consisted of meat, peas and that awful yellow stuff; a mix of mashed potato and pumpkin was my mother’s way of getting us kids to eat two vegetables at once. Little did she know I’d have been more cooperative about finishing my meal if the potato and pumpkin had been served separately, on the plate.
Apparently, this was another of those days where I showed my determined [read: stubborn], streak at rebelling in the face of injustice. I was required to continue sitting at the table for some time after everyone else had left, as I had refused to eat the dreadful yellow potato-pumpkin ‘poison.’ My parents mistakenly thought I would eventually eat it all up, if I sat there long enough; their parenting strategies a strange blend of Depression-era child-rearing tactics and Dr Spock’s now-debunked theories of child psychology.
On evenings like these, my parents recited mantras of sagely advice such as:
“You can sit there, (at the Dining table), until you finish everything on your plate. There are starving children in Africa who’d give anything to have a meal like that.” [referring to the yellow mashed potato].
Parent of the Seventies Child
This humanitarian-cause-mixed-with-guilt-trip styled parenting tactic was completely lost on my logical, young brain, as I would wile away the time sitting at the table contemplating how I would disprove their parental hypothesis by posting yellow, mashed vegies to Africa, in a test shipment.
As I sat there, alone at the dining table, the cold, yellow mound now well-congealed on my plate, I remember older brother gleefully looking up from the adjoining room, smirking during the TV-ad breaks of shows like, ‘Skippy the Bush Kangaroo,’ or ‘Coyote Road Runner,’ with his ‘Neopolitan,’ ice-cream embellished grin: his reward for eating his full allocation of the nightly yellow curse!
As I grew older, this parenting strategy was abandoned. Presumably, at the time of adolescence, but I can’t be sure. My stubbornness may have tipped the balance in my favour, after all.
Road Trips and Bus Tours were popular vacations in the seventies; the most memorable trip for me was seeing snow in Australia’s imaginatively named, ‘Snowy Mountains.’ I loved the sight of ice as tall as the bus and this might just be where I started my love affair with mountains and snow. I couldn’t wait for the opportunity to experience it again.
Road Trip to Snowy Mountains and Swan Hill, Victoria
Expectations of Adult Life
That afternoon in the seventies, whilst walking home in the rain, I wondered what life had in store for me as a ‘grown-up.’ I thought I’d have children, which came to pass, but thought I wouldn’t marry. I was wrong about marriage.
I thought as an adult, I would move location often, as that sounded more exciting than living in one suburban doldrum- I was both right and wrong about that. I thought I’d live interstate or on the other side of the world, unfortunately, the M.o.t.h, my future husband, happened to be Australian and liked to stay put.
I thought my children would be strong and confident. No doubt, everyone hopes for this. They have grown to be wonderful human beings, but I see with sadness the challenges of a modern world have taken a toll on their well-being. They are my world.
Surprisingly, there was a downside to my childhood reading ritual. I think if there is blame to be laid I would blame Helen Dore Boylston, the author of, ‘Sue Barton – Student Nurse,’ for my misguided foray into the world of Student Nursing. The books promised a dream vocation of caring and positivity and as a child, I was bewitched. In part, a mistake.
I must have read this book ten times over
The reality was far different and although I continued to work in the medical field for most of my working life, the long hours of shift-work required of a student nurse frequently made me ill and I was forced to change my career path.
Friendly Friday Blog Challenge Prompt
For this week’s Friendly Friday Challenge, we continue the Flashback theme Sandy posted earlier in the year by taking a Look Back to the Future, from our childhood years.
Here are some questions to get those creative juices flowing:
What is your memory of childhood?
Was there a significant milestone for you growing up and did it change your direction?
If you lived through the sixties and seventies, what stands out for you?
What do you recall of your childhood that directed you as an adult? Was there something that was instrumental in your path in life? Did it turn out well for you?
Is there an historic event that changed your perspective on life?
I invite you to join in and post a photo or story about your own childhood era.
Don’t forget to tag your post, Friendly Friday and leave a comment below so readers can visit you.
Lindy is a young Mum to two energetic boys. Lindy’s house is orderly and tidy, and Lindy works part time in a local law firm. The boys go to Daycare when she is at work, and she reports they love the activities there. Even so, she ensures she makes up for the time away from them, by rewarding them with an extra special outing or activity, on the weekends.
Every day she keeps their young minds busy by taking them out to parks, playgrounds, recreational facilities or plays. They are rarely at home. Twice a week, they are enrolled in Early Music tuition and next year they will join a junior football team. She is also considering Maths tutoring so that will have a head start on their peers, at school. Lindy wants them to grow up to be motivated and ambitious individuals, living life and experiencing the opportunities she missed during her childhood.
But is she doing the right thing for her boys?
Are the boys benefiting from all these scheduled activities?
Or are they being raised with the expectation that entertainment will be provided, each and every day? Will they thrive on this daily dose of stimulation, or come to expect it as a birthright? Could they even become victims of information overload?
Some experts now think it’s essential for our mental well-being to make time to relax, unwind and do nothing. But, isn’t that a tad boring? Won’t the kids get into mischief? Do young children really need down time at all? And what about us? Do we really NEED some down time away from the “bling” of notification tones? What is the value of downtime, anyway?
Confucius has some words of wisdom: –
“Learning without reflection is a waste, reflection without learning is dangerous” – Confucius
As well as Confucius, Forbes offers some insights –
“Introspection and reflection have become lost arts” as we are unable to resist the temptation to ‘just finish this’ or ‘find out that.’
With vast amounts of information at our fingertips, who needs to memorize facts at all?
“Working harder is not necessarily working smarter. In fact slacking off and setting aside regular periods of ‘doing nothing’ may be the best thing we can do to induce states of mind that nurture our imagination and improve our mental health. “
Does free-time sound appealing to you? Works for me. Schedule time for Feet up, drink in hand, and letting one’s mind free-wheel. Muting notifications of course.
Sayings, quotes and proverbs offer us knowledge; knowledge that is passed to us in much the same way a relay runner might pass a baton. Once it’s handed over, it is up to us what we do with it and how we pass it on.
If you are a parent of a young child, you might worry about what your child may or may not do with their life. Often these concerns are unfounded, and the universe sorts everything out in time. Sometimes it doesn’t and we need to listen to our gut feelings, follow up and intervene. But how much intervention is really beneficial?
‘What parents whisper, their children shout!”
~ Dutch proverb
It is a difficult task to know the boundary between what might be considered a helicopter/over-protective parent and on the flip side, a casual approach to child rearing that allows a child to develop without any sort of intervention.
Children are like wet cement – whatever falls on them makes an impression.”
— Haim Ginott, child psychologist
I think most parents try to find that middle ground. Each child’s needs are so uniquely individual.
Several years ago, I created ‘Proverbial Friday’ on my blog.I
became fascinated with traditional proverbs, quotes and sayings, their
metaphorical layers and the many different interpretations found
within just a few, succinct words. I marveled at their ability to
transcend race, religion, opinions and age.
LeggyPeggy and I read a relevant article about children, parenting and boredom, that I shared recently on Sunday Sayings. It makes for interesting reading and started me thinking: –
Have we become slaves to the potential to our children? Do we wish them to succeed so much that we bend over backwards in providing the best opportunities for them?
In doing so, have we prevented them from experiencing opportunities that might assist them to become more self-reliant and independent?
Teach your children early not to pass the blame or make excuses, but to take responsibility for their actions.”
–Eric Greitens
“Your children are not your children. They are sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you. And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.”
~ Khalil Gibran
Today on Sunday Sayings, I am looking at several thoughts on the subject and would love to hear your opinions. You may strongly disagree or agree. Everyone’s opinion is important.
I find there to be profound wisdom in proverbs, sayings and quotes and I marvel at the way they are so succinct in communicating messages to the reader. Mostly anonymous, they come to us from past generations and from across cultures. They speak of the experiences of lives lived and lessons learned. Quotes, like proverbs, make us think more deeply about something.
Each Friday, I post a Proverb or Saying and a Quote that I find thought-provoking.
I hope you will too.
We deem those men remarkable who think as we do.
Great men are not always wise
Unknown
What do you make of this week’s sayings? Do you agree?
How do we define a wise man?
Join in the discussion by leaving a comment below.
I find there to be profound wisdom in proverbs, sayings and quotes and I marvel at the way they are so succinct in communicating messages to the reader. Mostly anonymous, they come to us from past generations and from across cultures. They speak of the experiences of lives lived and lessons learned. Quotes, like proverbs, make us think more deeply about something.
Each Friday, I post a Proverb or Saying and a Quote that I find thought-provoking.
I hope you will too.
Another Polish Proverb in the series is up for discussion this week.
What reaches the mother’s heart will only reach the father’s knees
~ Polish Proverb
This Week’s Quote
Continuing on with the theme of remaining grateful and positive, it sounds like Oprah Winfrey has also discovered this key to finding contentment.
“Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more.
If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.”
–Oprah Winfrey
I find the Polish proverb a little intriguing. Could it refer to the warm, nourishing nature of Mothers, and by contrast, the disciplinarian, less emotional style of parenting by some fathers? Or is that too simplistically gender specific? I don’t have a time frame to give this proverb a historical context, however I suspect it comes from an age long gone.
What explanation can you make of it?
Oprah clearly has much to be thankful for, but it is refreshing to hear a celebrity that is not so fixated on wealth or hungry for more. What do you think?
Proverbs and sayings often provide us with wise words from all corners of the world.
Best savoured a little at a time, I find there to be profound wisdom in the words and marvel at how they succinctly communicate messages to the reader. Mostly anonymous, they come to us from past generations and from across cultures.
They speak of the experiences of lives lived and lessons learned.
Quotes, like proverbs, make us think more deeply about something.
Each Friday, I post a Proverb or Saying and a Quote that I find thought-provoking.
I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
The WordPress community really is amazingly giving, as two bloggers have indirectly contributed to this week’s ‘Proverbial Friday’ post.
The proverb this week, comes from a book generously given to me, by LeggyPeggy.
Whilst short in length, this proverb originated in religious texts (NB. I am not at all religious), and yet it made me ponder the intrinsic nature of strength, versus wisdom.
“Wisdom is better than strength.” [Ecclesiastes]
Strength is often considered an asset in life. There are those who say, that the weak or submissive are left behind. We are encouraged to take the initiative, be on the front foot, be pro-active and assertive. We are warned that we might be left behind, cast aside in the wake of others in financial or intellectual achievement, in progress, or in personal growth. But this proverb made me stop and consider this a little deeper.
Should strength be the first and foremost goal? Should strength be valued at all? For strength without wisdom, can even be dangerous. History tells us that some leaders had strength but little wisdom.
What do you make of the proverb’s words?
The quote this week comes from a dear blogger friend, Ineke from Iscrap2, who recently published her memoir with these inspiring words, for parents, on the inside front page:
“The best thing you can give your children,
next to good habits,
are good memories”
– Sydney Harris
Do you agree with Sydney Harris? Or is there some other value, more important than habits and memories that parents should share with their children?
Join in the conversation and let me know your thoughts.
Quite unusually, I’ve been reading a book that has no dead bodies contained within its pages.
(See my book review page here for the lists of crime fiction novels I usually read).
Biographies of interesting people, are also on my book shelf, but the title of this book, given to me by a work colleague, did not give me any clue as to the intensity of the story within.
Horse boy is the story of one family’s journey to heal their severely autistic son. Conventional western therapies were yielding little success and their son’s tantrums and neurological trauma appeared to be increasing, exponentially. Spurred on by an accidental discovery that Rowan had a special gift with horses, the family embarks on a monumental adventure that takes them to the outer regions of Mongolia.
Something to Ponder About 