Stuart Heritage embraces Italian family life
“Gender roles have not changed very much,” says Manuela Naldini, professor of sociology of the family at University of Turin, of the Italian method of parenting. “Certainly not as much as we would like them to have, and not to the same degree as other European countries.” In practical terms, she says the result of this is that “it is seen as very important for the mother to stay with their child, especially when they are very small”.
Italy, she explains, has one of the lowest marriage rates in Europe. Due to financial constraints and high unemployment, children don’t leave the parental home until they are, on average, 30 years old. “This means that they postpone forming a couple, become parents quite old and have fewer children,” says Naldini.
The state of the labour market also means that men are far less likely to take parental leave. “If you do that as a father, you are seen as not a very trustworthy person,” says Naldini. So typically mothers find themselves becoming the default parent. “This reinforces the gender division of household work, and the father’s participation remains a little bit circumscribed, especially when the children are very young.”
This isn’t great for progress, but it’s absolutely brilliant news for me, because I am a) tasked with following the Italian way of parenting, and b) a man. As such, I think Prof Naldini just gave me permission to slack off.
Some context: I am the default parent in our household. My wife’s health has been erratic for a number of years, which means the bulk of the parenting work falls to me. School runs, cooking, organising parties and Christmases, buying presents and clothes, remembering dates, being the point person for schools and friends and clubs: it has all been on my shoulders. It is a constant juggle. But on the flipside, it has also been the single most rewarding thing I have ever done. I am extremely tight with my two boys (aged seven and 10), and my inner control freak relishes the responsibility.
However, it isn’t very Italian. Although Naldini says that things are shifting – “fatherhood has changed since the 1990s. Fathers play with their children; they try to be intimate; they collaborate in bathing”– but societal expectation is still that the father earns while the mother parents.
Obviously, it would be a little callous of me to suddenly dump everything on to my wife for the purposes of an experiment, but that doesn’t mean that a balance can’t be struck. Luckily, this experiment coincides with an uptick in her health, so she is able to take the kids to school in the mornings while I get the jump on work. There’s talk of her taking them to swimming lessons on Saturday mornings so I can sleep in a little.
Which isn’t to say that my children seamlessly transition to a more Italian upbringing, as evidenced when we attempt a family-style dinnertime of our adopted country. This involves all of us eating together at the dinner table at 7.30pm. The eating together part is easy – it’s very rare that we don’t do that normally, though more often than not we’re on the sofa with plates on our laps. But a half-seven dinnertime on a school night with two young kids is madness. My kids tend to be asleep by 8pm. An Italian bedtime pushes this back by over an hour. We naively hope for a lie-in, but this does not happen. The result of this is two crankier-than-usual children the following day. Maybe, we decide, we could only be Italian at weekends.
“Italy has a very strong family model in terms of intergenerational solidarity,” Naldini tells me. “Grandparents play a strong role in helping to realise the childcare arrangement. That is something that comes from tradition, from the idea of strong solidarity, not between mother and father, but intergenerational.”
I have always been extremely bad at asking for help, and especially from my dad. My mum died in 2017, and he was her carer before that, so as far as I’m concerned he has earned the right to spend his retirement however he likes. Prior to this experiment, it had been a couple of years since I’d asked him to look after the kids. But that was the old me. I’m Italian now, and that means he has to do my work for me. Sorry Dad, I don’t make the rules.
We have Dad over for Sunday lunch, and this is where I tentatively tell him about the assignment. To my surprise, he responds with something approaching happiness. He thinks it is a great idea for all involved. He gets to see his grandchildren, my kids will benefit from being looked after by someone else for a bit, and my wife and I can spend time together without having to shout over children. So later that week, I drop the kids off with my dad and take my wife to the cinema. We both fall asleep five minutes in. It is great, and now that particular barrier has been removed, we’ll hopefully do it a bit more often.
Obviously, in a just world, Italian families would share the workload equally. Employers would have a more enlightened approach to fathers taking parental leave, and the pressure would be taken off women a bit. However, for this specific experiment, it turns out that the Italian way of life suits me more than I expected. For the last five years, I’ve taken on more than I could handle and haven’t asked for help. If nothing else, then being Italian for a week has taught me a problem shared is a problem halved.Grazie mille, Italia.
The dos and don’ts of parenting, Italianstyle
DO…Remind your kids that elders should be respected.
Be relaxed about bedtimes.They will happen when they happen, and not at the expense of mealtimes.
Involve your extended family.As much as possible, if that’s achievable.
DON’T …Rely on processed foods at dinner.Take your time and make something from scratch.
Skip family mealtimes.Anything you eat, you should all eat together.
Overschedule extracurricular activities.Shuttling your kids from swimming lessons to violin practice to karate is far too busy, and not at all Italian.
Lotte Jeffsbecomes a French maman
When I was eight and on holiday in France with my parents in 1990, we went out for a meal that none of us have forgotten. An only child, I was being fussy about food and demanded my parents’ play with me. It was then we noticed the French family on the table next to us, with a fellow only child about my age. This girl was compliant, immaculate and eating the same food as everyone else. At one point she accidentally knocked over a glass. Her mother slapped her. According to the French psychotherapist and parenting expert Isabelle Filliozat, this young girl will have probably grown up to become a disciplinarian mother herself. Before it was banned in 2019,85% of French parents admitted to smacking their kidsand, even now, Filliozat says the country’s standard mode of raising children remains “having them comply”.
“That’s a pity,” she says. “We can be just together, side by side. That’s how you raise a child. You’re coaching them through life.” I agree. My wife and I are what has been termed “gentle” parents to our six-year-old. It suits our personalities (empathic, nonconfrontational, calm) and the qualities we wish to nurture in our child (kindness, creativity, humour, self-expression).
Filliozat wrote a book, Au Cœur des Émotions de L’enfant, in 1999 about centring children’s emotions. Back then, it was seen as a controversial approach in France. It’s more widely adopted today, but not without its detractors. The main naysayer is French child psychologist Caroline Goldman, who has been rising in popularity. She wants to restore hierarchy in the parent-child relationship, because, she says, “Without order, no peace can exist.” In her 2020 book, File dans Ta Chambre! (Go to Your Room), she recommends disciplining children as young as one with “time-outs”. Parent-child disconnection is also common in the country. A study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family shows that the amount of time mothers are spending with their children each day has been increasing globally –apart from in France, where mother-child time declined to about an hour per day.
According to Goldman, children should be made to understand that they cannot say whatever they feel, speak too loudly or spill their food deliberately (much emphasis is put on correct behaviour at mealtimes). So, that evening we try to sit around the table together for dinner. The importance of family dining is one thing Filliozat and Goldman agree on. But how can I encourage my energetic six-year-old to stay still for long enough? “Give her small tasks so she can move around, like fetching the water or the bread,” suggests Filliozat. Ha! When I ask my daughter to carry her own glass of water to the table, she gets completely drenched.
Filliozat says mealtimes are where families have the best conversations. I agree that family dinners are important, but my wife, daughter and I spend so much of our lives together, that honestly, it’s quite nice to have a moment of peace in the evening. As an experiment, I insist we all eat at 6pm. There’s a lot of cajoling involved, but it’s a nice bonding experience and I vow to make an effort to do this more often.
Next, we try to make it through a day with our child looking immaculate. French parenting often involves clear boundaries and expectations, known as “le cadre”. The structure extends to various aspects of a child’s life, including the importance of dressing appropriately for different occasions. I brush my daughter’s hair, button her into a new dress and clean her shoes. We go to her friends’ bowling party and I feel proud that she looks so well put together at 9am on a Sunday. A few hours later, we realise she’s come home in the bowling shoes. By lunchtime, she’s wearing nothing but her pants and running round the garden with friends as we shout the word “Boundaries!!” at her.
Finally – the moment I’ve been dreading – it’s time to try being strict. I have to warn my daughter or else she’ll be extremely confused. “Will you have a French accent?” she asks when I give her the context. “Can one Mummy still be a kind Mummy?”
Once I give myself permission, it doesn’t take much for me to shout at her to stop faffing around and get into bed. It’s been a long day. I’m surprised by my own loud voice, and the depth of rage I normally keep in check. She starts crying, and I have to leave the room to stop myself apologising. I don’t think anyone’s learned anything from this interaction.
Filliozat tells me that as a therapist she’s working with a number of French parents who want to stop shouting at their children. They believe there’s another way, but need help. “This discipline is coming from their past, where their parents shouted at them,” she says. “We shout because of a traumatic memory. To stop that behaviour we need to address our own trauma.”
It’s not a great stretch to conflate the backlash to gentle parenting in France to the rise of the far right. “There’s a sense that we need to get power back,” Filliozat says. “There is a lot of insecurity. We had Covid; the economy is going down; the threat of climate change. When you feel insecure, you have a tendency to uphold what you felt was secure.” And that, she suggests, is why some French parents are now doubling down on discipline.
I knock on my daughter’s door and apologise for shouting. It was just an experiment, I say. It didn’t work. We agree that scary shouty Maman won’t be coming back.
The dos and don’ts of parenting, French style
DO …Set clear boundaries.The French favourle cadre, a firm framework where children know what’s expected of them and what the limits are.
Prioritise mealtimes.Kids are taught to sit at the table, and join in conversation – no snacking, no grazing.
Value politesse.Manners matter.Childrenlearn to say bonjour, merci and au revoir to every adult, and to shake hands or offer kisses on the cheek when appropriate.
DON’T …Negotiate.Parents aren’t peers. Traditional French parenting discourages endless bargaining or giving children too much decision-making power.
Overschedule activities.French kids typically have fewer extracurriculars and more unstructured downtime than their British or American counterparts.
Let homework slide.Homework is a family priority, done straight after school and taken seriously, even in early primary years.
Lanre Bakaregets Germanic
When parenting, I like structure. Having a “plan” is important to me, especially because since our children arrived life has become a lot less predictable. While I like to think of myself as a cool parent – I don’t get flustered that often, I can go with the flow – in reality I’m incredibly cautious. I’m usually within catching distance, just in case one of them falls, and immediately imagine the most terrible possible outcome when any form of danger appears. So taking on parenting tips from another country presents a real challenge.
My guide to German parenting is Nora Imlau, a journalist who has written multiple bestselling books on the subject. Certain German concepts aren’t going to fly in Casa Bakare, though, like sharing a bed with your kids: considered normal until age seven. I love that for you, Germany, but at the time of the experiment, we’ve just got our 18-month-old into a consistent sleeping routine in her own room, and I’m not jeopardising that for anyone. Thankfully, there are non-sleep related ideas I can take on board.
One of the cornerstones of Imlau’s German parenting guidance is not to congratulate your children. Instead I’m supposed to encourage and comment on progress without patronising them by saying such things as, “Well done, darling.” Imlau explains that the Germans try to avoid congratulations because it reinforces the idea that the parent is judging their behaviour constantly. And saying “well done” all the time renders it meaningless. “Tell them that you see what they’re doing without judging it,” says Imlau. “It’s not always about being ‘good’ or the ‘best’. You’re my beloved child because you’re you and not everything you do needs to be ranked.”
The problem is, the week of my trial overlaps with the exact time my youngest daughter decides to start walking. While my wife begins shouting with joy as Ayobami edges closer and closer to her first fully fledged steps, I hang back, bottling up my excitement and pride while saying, “Interesting choice of footwork” and, “You are moving toward independence by moving your feet in that manner”, like some sort of clapped-out AI.
Not to worry, there are other concepts I can try. Imlau tells me free-range parenting is all the rage in Germany, with a particular focus on letting kids explore. “It’s normal for them to be outside every day in every weather for several hours,” she tells me. It’s a case of sticking them in weather-appropriate clothing and letting them rip. “Of course you try to keep them safe – no one wants a kid to have a concussion,” Imlau adds. “But it’s also seen as a normal part of childhood, that they have bruised knees and get hurt, not in a severe sense, but they fall off a slide and it’s considered normal.”
The image of my two daughters – Temilola, aged four, and Ayobami – toppling off the slide at the local park runs through my head, but I stop my waking nightmare and get them dressed. Practical attire only.Gorpcorefor toddlers. We’re not messing around here.
Jumping in muddy puddles is an everyday occurrence in Germany, not something you resent Peppa Pig for introducing into your life. I decide to take the girls to our local park, which backs on to a canal that plays host to a surprising amount of wildlife. It’s spitting mildly, but the inclement weather doesn’t stop us. We zip up and head out.
At the canal, we spot a moorhen, a coot and a mallard – all of which we feed as a parakeet screeches away overhead. When I give her some bread to throw to the birds, she eats it instead, but I don’t mind, remembering Imlau’s sage advice. “Do whatever you want, enjoy your independence,” I say, even as she ignores my simple instructions.
Temilola is on it, though, throwing bits of stale bread into the canal like the condiment-sprinkling chefSalt Bae. We’re moving up and down the towpath, narrowly avoiding cyclists and the occasional jogger. To my pessimistic mind, this feels like a recipe for disaster, but as more birds come – Canada geese, pigeons and gulls – Temilola and Ayobami are getting increasingly excited.
We have to head to the local cafe when Temi needs a wee (no congratulations from me, even though she gives me plenty of warning) and when we come out, there’s a heron in the middle of the towpath. A standoff begins as the giant bird refuses to move. Joggers form a queue, while Temi tentatively offers it some muesli. “It’s going to fly away with my daughter,” I say in my head, as it slowly picks at the raisins and oats before walking across the lock, allowing the joggers to file past. Nature is great, letting go is good. I genuinely feel as if I’m learning a lesson here, all thanks to my German friends.
There are some key elements of German parenting that are always going to be verboten in our house (our bed is off limits, its defences only breached in absolute emergencies). But a few months on, the more relaxed attitudes to mud, play and general independence are welcome additions to my parenting repertoire. I still catch myself saying “Well done” to my daughters more often than I’d like, but Imlau’s words about how meaningless it can be definitely changed my approach to praise. “British bedtime, a more German daytime” probably sums it up well.
The dos and don’ts of parenting, German style
DO …Encourage independence.Nurture your child, so they feel trusted and secure, then as soon as they show they’re ready, let them go! Sleepovers from the age of three are common.
Share your bed.Many German parents co-sleep with their kids, often in a huge “family bed”, until the children are about six or seven.
Go outdoors in any weather.And not just for a walk in the park: crawling/playing in sand, on grass, in mud and puddles; climbing trees from a very young age; in rain, snow and sleet.
DON’T …Sleep train.This is utterly frowned upon, never done at all, and is the very opposite of putting the kid’s emotional wellbeing first.
Praise.You can be positive (“I see you’ve used a lot of yellow in that picture – I like it”, for example), as long as it doesn’t veer into overzealousness.
Tim Jonzewarms to the Icelandic way
“People often completely misunderstand what we are about,” says Kristín Cardew. She works as a consultant atHjalli, an Icelandic parenting model founded in 1989 that promotes gender equality through what they call a “structured yet unconventional method”.
The theory is that society conditions boys and girls differently from birth, and the Hjalli model provides an environment in which to counter this. Girls are encouraged to ask more questions or leap around to help make them more assertive and adventurous; boys are taught to be more gentle and empathic by engaging in activities such as brushing each other’s hair.
“Some say we are trying to make the boys ‘girly’,” sighs Cardew. “But we’re not taking anything away from the boys. If they want to play games which are considered ‘boys’ games’, that’s fine. What we are doing is adding things. We are trying to make our children whole people.”
The Hjalli model’s aim seems a noble one to me. But the way of breaking down gender boundaries is counterintuitive. Rather than encourage more mixing between the genders, Hjalli separates them from as young as 12 months. They run 14 nursery schools and three secondary schools in Iceland, and Elmwood nursery school in Glasgow, in which children are taught, for most of the time, in single-sex classes.
Doesn’t this reinforce stereotypes? Apparently not. “We call it reverse mirroring,” says Cardew. “The boys look at the girls and it reinforces how they think they shouldn’t behave. The girls see the boys maybe being a bit crazy or whatever and say, ‘I don’t want to be like that.’ So when they’re together, they’re learning how not to be. We take them apart and work to give them what traditional society deprives them of.”
It would be unrealistic (not to mention pretty damn weird) to employ gender separation in our home – even if my eight-year-old daughter Romy and five-year-old son Teddy might occasionally be quite keen on the idea. But there are plenty of other things the Hjalli model proposes to prevent gender stereotypes holding kids back. These include avoiding gendered language, refraining from complimenting clothes and appearance, encouraging varied types of open-ended play, such as using paint and blocks, and avoiding punishments.
“Punishment is never used in our schools, because we are the grownups,” says Cardew. “We are responsible for choosing a suitable environment for the children’s development and for them to flourish in it. If their reaction is questionable, we don’t shame them for it. We need to look at our own decisions and choose a better and more suitable environment for the child, so they can navigate successfully through it, socially, cognitively and emotionally.”
This doesn’t mean bad behaviour is excused. “Some children need more assistance to practise different and more appropriate behaviour. So the teacher keeps the child closer to her (or him), at all times, to be able to intervene before the disagreeable behaviour takes place, or chooses a more suitable environment for the child to play in so that the child can practise how to cope in a more conducive manner.”
Over the course of a few weeks, I try to adopt some of these principles into my own parenting. The good news for me is that I already do a lot of the things the Hjalli model recommends. The bad news, though, is that there are some things I just think I do already. Take the day out I spend out in Lewisham, south-east London, where my children each choose a toy in a shopping centre. Teddy, the more impulsive one, buys a rainbow handprint maker in the first shop we enter, despite my warnings that he might want to look around elsewhere first. When Romy decides to look in a shop selling cute Japanese toys, Teddy gets upset that he can’t buy anything, so I try to soothe him by saying, “Don’t worry, these things are more for girls.” I’m shocked to hear myself say it. I’ve reached for a gender stereotype as an easy way to get myself out of a tricky situation.
You only have to look at my kids’ wardrobes to see how pernicious gender stereotypes are. Teddy’s is a shrine to various characters from the Mario and Sonic universes, whereas as I write this, Romy is wearing a pink top with Mamma Mia! printed in sparkly letters, paired with a pink bag, pink-framed glasses and a glittery skirt. Clothes are a big deal for Hjalli – their kids wear uniforms so children learn to express their identity through other means. I actually appreciate the creative expression that comes with my own kids’ non-school uniform policy, but I understand what Cardew means when she tells me I should refrain from complimenting Romy’s outfits. “Society has this terrible habit of complimenting girls for their looks all the time,” she says. “‘Oh, look at your lovely dress.’ So never compliment her on her looks, because this is how they start identifying themselves.”
To counteract all the pink, I decide we should play a game of football in the garden. Straight away, Romy asks if she can be a cheerleader while I play with Teddy. It’s hard to know if I should be telling her not to, or letting her go with her own ideas. Ultimately, she joins in and soon she’s getting so stuck in that, were this a proper game, she’d at least be on a yellow card.
Football is an interesting area for me. Teddy has not yet shown much interest in it: he enjoys kicking a ball around, but when things get rough, with lots of kids fighting for the ball, he tends to back away. Part of me wants to respect this, but another part remembers the huge social capital you gain from being able to play a bit of football. Should I be pushing the issue?
“Some of the social and interactive aspects of football can be very demoralising, almost to the point of being toxic,” says Cardew, who remembers the shock of seeing her own son being yelled at while he played football. “I know many stories of boys being verbally bullied by their teammates and the coaches turning a blind eye. But it doesn’t have to be like this.”
Cardew points out that a football coach has a responsibility that goes beyond simply training pupils to become good footballers. “They are also role models to these boys and partly responsible for training their behaviour as a team. Good sportsmanship could be something they focus on: fair play, positive communication, team building, how to handle winning and losing, empowering each other, managing emotions. This would serve the boys on and off the football field.”
Indeed, my main realisation after talking to Cardew and learning about the Hjalli model is how important it is that society changes as well as our parenting. In Iceland, a law was passed in 2021 that gave both new mothers and fathers six months of paid parental leave. Cardew says the results have been astonishing, with fathers stepping up their parenting game in remarkable ways. “It has opened their eyes to the beauty of being more involved with the rearing of a child,” she says. “But you fathers in the UK have to fight for it.”
While the few weeks I spend following Hjalli principles certainly opens my mind to aspects of parenting, it feels like their methods are constantly butting up against bigger forces. I come away thinking that only if British society becomes as progressive as Iceland when it comes to gender parity could Hjalli’s fascinating ideas have the chance to really flourish here.
The dos and don’ts of parenting, Icelandic style
DO …Treat both genders equally. If your son wants to paint his nails like his sister, then go for it.
Play with blocks.Build things, invent games … a simple set of building blocks is better for a child’s imagination than a structured game.
Be conscious of your language.You can reinforce stifling gender stereotypes without intending to.
DON’T …Compliment your child’s looks.It enforces the idea that appearance is the most important aspect of their character.
Rub out errors.Just cross them out with a line and continue. As Cardew says: “You can’t always erase mistakes, it’s best to face them and move on.”
Punish your child.Your job as a parent is to help the child learn how best to react to difficult situations, rather than shame them.
Chitra Ramaswamytries the Polish method
The key to successful parenting, says Aga Rogala, is talking about emotions – and not just those of the child. “Polish parents tend to think if a child is happy, it means they’re good parents,” says the Polish parent therapist, podcaster and author of a book of parenting advice called Poukładaj to sobie w głowie (Sort it Out in Your Head). “And if they’re not happy, something’s wrong with their parenting.” Clearly this is ridiculous: a child is not a machine into which you input the correct data and get the same results each time. And yet. The truth is I commit this classic parental sin all the time.
Take my 11-year-old autistic son. When he’s settled, happy, and his needs are being met, I am settled, happy (and obviously none of my needs are being met). When he is anxious, stressed, or, in his own unique turn of phrase, “not having a nice feeling”, I, too, am very much not having a nice feeling. Time and time again I tell myself: do not predicate your happiness on the happiness of your child. That way lies … turbulence. But I can’t help myself. I want him to be happy. I’m his mum.
Rogala reckons the most meaningful thing I can do, as the mother of my son and seven-year-old neurotypical daughter, is “really feel the weight of it all … examine how you’re coping with the burden of questions like, ‘Am I doing this right? Have I taken care of everything? Do they have healthy relationships?’” A series of questions that hits like a line of strategically placed Lego bricks beneath my tired bare feet. Yikes! Now I’m really not having a nice feeling.
“Parents try to keep all their ‘bad emotions’ inside them, not talk about them, not even make some safe space to express them with their partner,” continues Rogala, who runs workshops with parents across Poland. “It’s always like you’re trying to repress it in yourself. So many mothers cry to me, ‘Oh, I’m screaming at my child, I feel terrible. I’m a terrible mother.’”
The style of parenting she sees most in her work is an amped-up helicopter/tiger hybrid that will be all too familiar to middle-class parents in many countries. “It’s like we don’t try to have a perfect child any more. We try to be perfect parents. We think we have to be everywhere in our children’s lives. We can’t let them solve any problems on their own. We put huge pressure on them to get good grades.” It sounds so stressful. “This is why Polish parents are some of the most burnt-out in Europe,” she agrees. “The Polish parenting style is exhausting.”
Rogala, who was born in 1982, thinks the prevalence of this method is a reaction to the way her generation was parented under communism. Or rather, not parented. “My early childhood took place in the last period of communism and the first years of the new era. It was very, very difficult for our parents. They had to struggle with many problems, the economy crashing and mass unemployment, and were mostly absent. We are the generation who grew up with keys around our necks because our parents were always working or queueing, never at home to let us in after school. Many of us were quite alone as children. Our parents were exhausted. Many had no idea how to talk to us about feelings. When you have to survive, there’s no room for such things. So now, they have decided to be very present. It’s not the answer to the problems of parenting. The reality is there is no answer.” Which is probably the greatest, most border-crossing piece of parenting advice of all.
How would she describe her own parenting style? “The Polish name for it iskocham i wymagam’, which means ‘I love and I set boundaries’,” Rogala says. Her children are 16, 14, and eight, and house rules include eating dinner as a family with no phones or TV. Her two eldest children have phones which activate at 7am and shut down at 9pm; they’re not allowed TikTok and her 14-year-old daughter doesn’t, by choice, use social media. Saturdays are cleaning days with everyone involved. Rogala doesn’t supervise homework and the older kids go to their rooms around 10pm but go to bed when they want. She reads her youngest a book at bedtime and strokes his back as he falls asleep.
Some of this, like following established routines at mealtimes and bedtimes, is similar to what goes down in my home in Edinburgh. Much of it is not. Rogala says family meals at the dinner table, particularly on Sundays with grandparents, are enshrined in Polish culture. In our house, my son’s autism means he has to eat alone at the table so my partner Claire, our daughter and I often eat in the sitting room in front of the telly. Which brings me to the fundamental issue I’ve had with parenting advice since my son got his diagnosis aged four. It never seems to apply to those of us raising autistic children. Or children with any additional needs. Or, for that matter, queer parents. In Poland, the adoption of children by same-sex couples has been banned, and, unsurprisingly, Rogala has never worked with LGBTQI+ parents in her workshops.
My son has pretty much unlimited access to his screen, which is hard for his sister, who is allowed an hour a day, supervised, on her tablet. But he needs it to regulate, communicate and feed his brain’s insatiable appetite for whatever his special interests happen to be. This time last year, that was Lewis Capaldi singing Forever. Now it’s train announcements on the line between Edinburgh and Glenrothes with Thornton, and Paddington Bear drinking mouthwash. I often think we’re the ones who should be doing the advising, because parents of autistic children have been ruthlessly trained in the sacred parental arts of patience, empathy, humour and creative problem-solving. We’re constantly rewriting the manual, rolling with the punches (often literally), and trying to solve the latest ultra-niche problem.
As for pieces of advice that encapsulate traditional Polish parenting, my favourite has to be … wear a hat. I do live in Scotland, after all. Apparently this is a command addressed to children of any age, at any time of year, by Polish grandparents down the ages. What else? “Tell your children not to run or break a sweat.” Rogala says there’s a fear, again passed on from grandparents, that strenuous activity makes children sick. This one pleases my daughter immensely, what with her being a homebody who embraces pyjama days the way my son does level crossings. “Oh, and we are very much afraid of … what is the word? When you open the window …” Erm, fresh air? “No, a blast of wind! It will make them ill!” The solution, we agree, once again lies in wearing a hat.
Fundamentally, Rogala believes parenting is not about swinging on a pendulum between extremes. “In Poland it’s either, ‘I’m doing great, I’m a good parent’ or, ‘I do everything wrong, I’m a terrible parent’ and there’s nothing in between. To me, the solutions are all in the in between.”
The dos and don’ts of parenting, Polish style
DO …Make space at the weekend, especially on a Sunday, for a big family meal.Invite as many generations as possible, especially grandparents. Serve soup, always, plus meat with potatoes, and say to your children, “You don’t have to eat the potatoes, just eat your meat!”
Help your children with their homework.Although good grades are encouraged, making an effort at school is the most important thing.
Wear a hat!A directive for children, not parents.
DON’T …Encourage laziness in your child.They should respect the value of hard work.
Leavechildren to set their own boundaries.Including bedtime routines and with screen time.