And with that, I breathe a sigh of relief because it’s never been in my genes to be trendy or chic or sophisticated, or the sort of parent who turns heads because she’s immaculately coiffed or has legs that go on for miles, encased in sheer fake tan and high heels.
Sarah Macdonald, thank you for writing Why it’s a parent’s duty to be daggy.
OK, I’m being a little silly equating daggy solely with clothes and hair and shoes. There’s a gentle, kind nature that embarrasses one’s children as well. The ability to be goofy if it’ll make someone laugh, or get a grin from a kid. The pride in being oneself even if one’s kids wish their parent would not go to pick them up from school while wearing ugg boots or Birkenstocks.
“[Kids] need to know we can cut lose but they also need to feel safe, secure and perhaps superior. They need to know we are responsible.”
” Boundaries provide the bedrock for development.” You’re preaching to the choir, Sarah, and that’s fine by me. Yes, I probably irritate DD with boundaries but I can deal with it. They’re not unrealistic boundaries, they have foundations in health and well-being (like needing a certain amount of sleep each night and eating vegies and fruit each day). And y’know, sometimes kids welcome boundaries. That way they know where the line is drawn and what happens when they step over it. That way they know their mum or dad thinks that certain behaviours and beliefs are important, and that some behaviour is simply unacceptable.
I’m off to relish being a dag. To be fair, I’m not wearing Birkenstocks today, but the shoes I’m wearing have a definite mumsy/nurse from the 70s aspect. Maybe I could pick up that part a little bit.