I would have saved £50 a session on the counsellor I saw in my thirties and about the same in weekly babysitting now; as for the tutor in English Lit, Granny could have probably replaced him, too. Yes, if my mother – who speaks six languages, could teach Nicky Haslam a thing or two about interior decoration and is devoted to my daughter and
stepsons – were living with us, I would be considerably better off.
And not just financially. She would have enriched our lives and her own, doling out wise advice about heartbreaks, reading Where the Wild Things Are, bathing little Izzy, answered my stepsons’ questions on the subjunctive.
In a culture where divorce affects almost half of today’s marriages, we have a new adjective –“blended” – for the family that features step-parents and step-children, half-siblings and second spouses, living under the same roof. This is my life, and I love it; but an extended family would be even better. A multi-generational household in which granny and grandpa live with their children and
grandchildren has something for everyone. The elderly feel needed; the middle-aged supported; the young are helped to understand that ageing does not mean a person should be marginalised, or that youth should automatically confer special privileges.
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