Pontificating

Call me old-fashioned, but I was taken aback by a conversation I overheard in the vets the other day. The receptionist was chatting to a woman waiting for her poorly rabbit to be returned to her after treatment. Both were probably in their 30s, maybe late 30s, and they knew each other but not very well. They probably went to the same school; it's like that around here, people tend not to move very far away. They were nice women, and the way they both got emotional when the rabbit was returned to the waiting room showed what soft hearts they had. "That's made my Christmas," sobbed the owner, clutching her long-eared pet. "I thought we were going to lose him." "Aw," wept the receptionist, "he's as good as new again, bless him." But earlier they'd been discussing motherhood, both with school age children. They agreed that, though they "love my kids to bits", they were bored rigid by spending any time with them. One had a helpful mum who looked after hers while she was at work, or out riding her horse, or through the long summer, the other had a very good husband who "didn't mind" being with them in the holidays and at weekends when she was on duty at the vets. "They want you to do all that cutting and pasting or making stuff all the time, and they never stop talking," said the horsey woman. It does my head in. They're always on at you." "I know," agreed the vet woman, "so boring. Gawd! What's school for!"

I could hardly believe my ears. I don't mean to sound pious, but I stayed at home for seven years with my children until the younger one started full time school. Our days were spent cutting and pasting, doing puzzles, reading, writing, colouring in, singing, going for walks, digging in the sand pit, playing with dolls, hospitals, garages, building houses with leggo, and talking, talking, talking. Sure I was bored sometimes, and my network of friends made up of fellow mums was invaluable to me. We met for coffee, we played tennis and we had each other's offspring for tea, or exceptionally for the day or even overnight if circumstances required this. We supported each other, but we were centred around our children, intent on giving them the very best start in life. My time off work was excessive, I realise that, and I was very lucky. If I had discovered au pairs earlier I would probably have gone back a bit sooner, at least part time. But those were magical times. I entered the world of my children and engaged with them on their level. I didn't judge those times to be boring because I was seeing everything afresh, through their wide-open eyes. And so I felt sorry for those women who limited their time with their children because they found them tedious and irritating. I hope they were exaggerating.