The Parental Bellow

Our family traditions of Memorial Day continued yesterday with an annual picnic in our backyard. Don and I spent the day working feverishly in order to get our house back together after our painting adventure (I still have a lot of work to do, like putting everything back into the medicine cabinet, etc.). Around noon my oldest brother, Steve, called me and asked if I could come over and help him plant a few things in his yard, since he "hates yard work," as he put it, and had no idea what to do with those green leafy things. When I returned, I tackled the chore of wiping down the outdoor furniture, arranging the patio for eating and arranging the lawn for comfortable seating. I finally hit the shower and emerged in time for the arrival of our first guests.

We had a loaded yard: 10 adults and 5 children. It was relaxing, comfortable, and fun. My oldest brother, now 42 years old, actually teeters on the line of childhood and adulthood, spending just as much time with the little ones as the adults. We had some disciplinary issues: Aidan was sent to his room for pushing his sister, and he was also reprimanded for lying, saying his cousin Adam knocked down another cousin Steven Henry, when Aidan himself did the tackling (although I think it was all done in play). Ugh. Overall, the kids played wonderfully well together. At one point my brother Steve made a funny comment, saying "You just wait -- years from now these kids will still be banded together, roaming out in the neighborhood, getting a beer ..."

Leave it to my brother to make a beer comment in front of my dry parents, but beyond that, I thought of his comment about "roaming out in the neighborhood." I thought about growing up in this same house, this same yard, this same neighborhood and doing my own fair share of roaming with my brother Jim and my friends who lived nearby. Recently I read an article in "Family Fun" magazine that struck a chord with me. It spoke of a time when kids roamed free in their neighborhoods, being pushed out of doors and not being seen until it was time for a meal, or time for bed. It spoke of a phenomenon called "The Parental Bellow," the signal for kids to know it was time to come home, the vocal chords of a parent utilized to its maximum capacity, sending its sound out over the rooftops, across the blocks, like a siren's call luring them back home. The article went on to say that these days are over, that kids don't play outdoors as much as they used to, or if they do it's in the safety and privacy of their own yards (hence the rise in purchases of swing sets and mega-jungle gyms, I assume). The author stated that the play of children today is much, much more structured -- play dates, or organized activities and sports that take place in other facilities. Kids don't roam free any more, they don't use their imaginations as much in free-range outdoor play, coming up with their own games and activities with any items they can find on their own.

I thought a lot about this article in the context of my own childhood, and in the raising of my children now. I certainly had that childhood he was talking about -- the countless hours spent in our yard playing wiffle ball, pickle, or anything else we could think of; the many trips to the yards of other neighborhood kids, and then venturing further away to the Hay Fields, roaming through the various paths in the woods, climbing rocks, making up adventures of exploring or pirates or whatever else our imaginations cooked up for the day. Yes, we were called in for dinner -- my mother had her own signature "parental bellow," a sound that I have never heard anywhere else. Every child in the neighborhood knew when Sue and Jim were being called home; every child knew that sound. After dinner we headed back outdoors, and the evening rule was that we had to come home when the street lights went on. That parental bellow was a daily sound for us, along with birds chirping and the fire siren going off at noon.

But what about today? The thought of letting my kids roam about without my supervision kind of freaks me out. Is it because we hear of so many awful things in the news? Is it because every parent fears things like abduction or abuse of some kind? I don't think that was any different years ago -- there were bad people and bad things back then too. I am certain my parents had those very same concerns. Are things really different today? What will "childhood" look like for my children? I do know that being a mother has alighted in me a fierce sense of protectiveness, never wanting to let my kids out of my sight. I know when Aidan first rides a school bus I will be a mess. I know when Aidan has to go to school all day, every day I will freak out (for a while). Will I let my kids roam free, hooking up with other neighborhood kids (whom I don't know) until it's dinner time? Will I develop my own "parental bellow" (sheesh - I hope not) ... and what if my kids don't respond? I know, I know -- you can really drive yourself crazy thinking these things. But it really did make me curious, wondering what kind of childhood my kids will have.