Growing up, I was a serious, sensitive, and well-behaved child driven by an intense desire for my parents’ approval. The expectations placed upon me were high, and I often felt the weight of those expectations. My father, while not overly strict, could become quite formidable when he was angry. He was my idol, and I longed for his praise as a validation of my efforts.
During the 1980s and 90s, parental dynamics often leaned heavily toward discipline rather than eouragement. In my household, praise was a rare commodity, while reprimands and strict rules were commonplace. The rules I experienced seemed to be unending, some were well-defined while others were implied, leaving much to interpretation. The possible offenses that could lead to punishment were numerous and often bewildering.
For example, the slightest misstep could lead to punishment. Crying after being beaten, not crying after being beaten, or even crying without a clear reason. The social dynamics were such that standing when elders were seated, sitting when elders stood, or simply walking around aimlessly in their presence could all be seen as disrespectful. Engaging in conversation with an elder, whether responding or remaining silent, had its own set of unwritten rules, not to mention the perils of being overly excited, fighting with peers, late returns home, and even the pace at which one ate. The threshold for misbehavior was low, and with so many expectations, it was easy to feel anxious about every action.
As a result, I was constantly vigilant and eager to stay on my parents’ good side. I dedicated my childhood to impeccable behavior and focused intently on my studies. Despite facing challenges in subjects like math and science, I managed to earn good grades. My parents were generally lenient with my academic struggles, recognizing that I was not careless but rather diligent.
Looking back, I often wish I had allowed myself to be a bit naughtier and to fully enjoy my childhood. I missed out on the childhood adventures that many of my peers embraced. They would engage in activities like sneaking crunchy garri into their pockets, pretending to smoke with mats (the bamboo one), and following masqueraders until they got lost. They would risk injury in football matches just for the chance to win a trophy made from tin and decorated with cigarette labels. I envied their carefree spirit as they played games like “mummy and daddy” with the girl they like the most or relished the remnants of soft drinks, relishing the flavors when they are asked to return it.
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These childhood experiences, rich with spontaneity and fun, are memories I often long to recreate. The list of missed joys is endless, watching peers faking sickness to avoid school, earning top positions in classes without cracking open a book, and engaging in countless playful antics. I found myself constantly preoccupied with the thought of not disappointing my parents, often at the cost of my own enjoyment.
As a parent today, I reflect on those experiences with a sense of longing; I sometimes wish I could have a do-over of my childhood. Unfortunately, the reality of parenting is different. When my children come home from school with new ideas for crafts or projects, I often struggle to engage with their requests. For example, my daughter once insisted that I help her make a kite. I tried my best to craft something that would fly, but my lack of experience led to a disappointing result, the kite simply would not soar.
Childhood can be filled with adventure and joy, but I feel I missed much of that exploration and spontaneity. Whenever I see my wife being a bit firm with our children, I am reminded of my own upbringing. I urge her to take a step back, understanding that a strict approach may stifle their curiosity and willingness to explore. I want our children to feel free to learn and play without the fear of reprimand, encouraging them to embrace their creativity and spontaneity.
Perhaps when I become a grandparent, I will rediscover the playful side of life that I lost in my own childhood. It is often said that after 60, one experiences a second childhood 🤔 the thought of letting go of the inhibitions that I held onto for so long is uplifting.