On Being the Middle Child

Apparently yesterday, Sunday 2 April, was middle child day. Living in the southern hemisphere as I do, I’ve only just found out about this. We’re already more than half way through Monday as I write.

However, the whole concept of middle child fascinates me for two reasons, the most obvious one being that I am a middle child. I’ve read so many things about the negative side of being a middle child, especially of feeling left out, but that hasn’t been my case at all. I loved being a middle child. The family position proved very advantageous to me.

You see, while the other two were being doted on by our parents, as middle child I was left to be independent and free. There were plenty of times, especially during my teenage years, when I was grateful for my parents not really knowing what I was up to. And then, if I wanted to curl up with a book on my own, no one actually noticed.

The other reason I was interested to learn about middle child day is related to one of my current writing projects. I’m exploring what life was like for me in the 1950s and 1960s through the eyes of a middle child. The revisiting old memories is proving lots of fun.

So, to all middle children out there, I hope you had a happy day. I’d love to hear about your middle child experiences and whether it was a positive or not-so-positive experience for you.mice-395831_960_720

2 thoughts on “On Being the Middle Child

  1. Well done Val, I know just how much work is involved in getting a book “out there”. I’ve written two historical biographies. Used CreateSpace for the first one and an independent UK publisher for the second. My third book is called “A Parallel Universe, A Quirky Memoir of Growing Up in 1960s New Zealand” (Mary Egan Publishing, in all good bookstores NZ-wide). I was a middle child born in the 50s, one of six with a six year age gap either side. Like you I was grateful for the unsupervised time I had. Disappearing to parts unknown on my bike was something I always looked forward to, and having inherited my father’s introvert genes I made my own fun and enjoyed my own company. But seeing what my elder siblings were allowed to do was a source of frustration at times as I was occasionally designated child-minder or nappy fetcher when all I wanted to do was my own thing. My mother was also a middle child although she told me it wasn’t much fun for her.

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