As I was
slathering Jarvis with sun screen, and then layering on the sun shirt, hat, and
making sure he was under the shade of the brolly before letting him in the
pool, I thought how different I am in so many ways from my parents, yet I am so
much the same.
As a child I was
lucky to get a crocheted bikini as protection, even Susie with her pale skin was put out in the sun. We joked as children, and as adults, that our
mother needed a rotisserie as she loved to bake so much in the sun. There were
no time limits, no sun screen, no hats, definitely not a brolly, unless it was
to keep the booze cool. A visit to the beach or a pool was all about how much
sun we could all get. I remember coming home, as a child, with skin so burnt, it
was stiff and painful to move.
Now I am not sure
whether it is helicopter parenting or more education on skin cancer, but I am so neurotic
about Jarvis getting burnt. I hear myself often nagging him to play in the
shade and get out of the sun. I even limit the amount of time he plays outside
in the middle part of the day, as this new house does not offer much in the way
of protection from the sun.
As I floated in
the pool beside Jarvis (yes I had such a tough morning) I began to wonder how
much of me was in contrast to my parents and how much of me was the same? Is
everything I do a direct reaction from my childhood?
