I can remember how my mother would sigh when we passed the local nursery.
“Still full,” she would say. I used to wonder what lay beyond its railings to excite such yearning in her.
I didn’t know what a nursery was. I’d no idea that what she yearned for was freedom from me.
Now I feel sorry for her. I arrived six years after she thought her family was complete. Instead of spreading her wings she was once again tied to daily domestic duties.
I spent most of my time outdoors but her constant presence gave me a secure base to which I could retreat when tired or hungry, cold or in need of reassurance. In other words I had the normal childhood for a person of my generation.
It’s all so different now.
I know of no young couples who are raising their children this way. They have a mother’s help or au-pair or they ship the pre-school children to a child-minder. Full article
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