The Yummy Mummy’s Family Handbook. Liz Fraser
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unless you fell into the “elder” or “man” camps, it was also shite.’ Indeed it was, and that’s why most of us are glad that the structure of most families today is less ‘four-storey townhouse’, and more ‘one up, one down’. Parents still hold most of the authority upstairs, while the kids play downstairs, and family meetings are regularly held on the landing for everyone to have their say. So far, so much more democratic.
What is slightly problematic, I think, is that some families have taken this improvement a step too far and have adopted a bungalow layout with everyone on a level with everyone else. There is no hierarchy, no authority and no control. In the same way that bungalows are unnatural (where are the stairs, woman, the stairs??), confusing and unattractive, so Bungalow Families are built on shaky ground, and should be denied planning permission.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for equality, human rights, democracy and Saturday sweets. Of course children have the right to have their say in family matters as much as any adults do. The problem lies in allowing everyone to have their way, which obliterates any sense of authority or control, leading to Family Anarchy. The success of the TV series Supernanny was dependent on this collapse in hierarchy: family after family where the kids run riot, the parents have no control over them whatsoever, and they resort to violence, abuse and much head-shaking. Where did we go wrong? Why have we been lumped with a child from Hell? I wonder…
When you start to build your family, you both have to agree on what structure it will have: either vertical, where you guys basically make all the decisions, have the final say and can withhold pocket money if necessary; or horizontal, where you and your little darlings are on an equal level and all family decisions are made jointly. Here are some things to bear in mind if you are struggling between Dictatorship and Anarchy:
Nobody wants to see children being silenced or bossed about by their parents, but there is something positive to be said for children understanding that their parents are superior to them and for there to be mutual respect and parental control. This isn’t child abuse; it’s sensible family management.
Once you have got over the initial nerves, planning permission and design of your Family Home, you can get on with the fun job of building the thing and living in it. As with all construction, things will go wrong—you’ll go over budget, there will be delays and you’ll end up with something not quite as you drew up in the plans, but which you’ll come to love just as much anyway.
And so, my brave companions, let us take our key in trembling hand and open the front door.
(Bugger, I dropped it. Hold on a sec…aha: here we are! In you come…)
The F Word: Becoming a family
Welcome, welcome! Come in off the noisy, dirty street and let me take your coat. This, my friend, is where we begin our tour of the chaotic, thriving, occasionally hellish but more often colourful and very jolly place called the Family Home. Please don’t mind the mess—this is a real family home, not an interiors feature, and I have quite deliberately left it in its natural, somewhat cluttered, finger-marked state so that you can get a sense of what really goes on in here.
If you have any doubts about whether the family thing is for you, then stride forth with me into the madness and mayhem and let me try to convince you that family life isn’t quite as unattractive or unmanageable as it may occasionally appear.
If you’ve already been raising your own family for years and have come to terms with the fact that you are no longer free to fly off to Mexico on a whim, are somehow expected to have all the answers to Life’s Big Questions, and will never bathe in peace again, then you can skip straight through to the Entrance Hall and take a seat for a while. Feel free to nose around while you wait—nothing is behind closed doors in this house. Just mind the loose cable by the door. I’ve been meaning to fix it for months, but you know how it is…
For everyone else, let’s pause here in the Front Porch for a moment, and consider what a shock it can be to become A Family.
What constitutes a ‘family’ differs between cultures, but where I, and probably you, live it means a group of people connected either by marriage or by birth. Yes, the lady next door may be very lovely, and by way of thanks for looking after your kids on a regular basis be awarded ‘Honorary Auntie’ status, but she’s not, strictly speaking, Family. Kind neighbours aside, the reach of the branches of a family tree is almost limitless—indeed, I’ve read somewhere very clever and reasonably trustworthy that we are all related to one another somehow, if you look back far enough, which presumably means we are all also incestuous and inbred. Great.
For the purposes of this book a ‘family’ consists of you, your partner and all of your respective parents, siblings and children. Great Aunts are allowed in too, because they are usually very sweet and doddery and need as much family as they can get, as do any grandparents you still have. But that’s about it. All the cousins, second cousins, nieces, nephews, godparents, Almost Uncles, and so on, are excess baggage as far as we are concerned. They are all very much a part of the family, of course, and dutifully turn up for Christmas or