Notes on Motherhood from Elsewhere

“Kate, how much does one diaper costs in Germany?” My sister-in-law asked me other day.

The reflex among linguists would be to correct her grammar. How much do diapers cost in Germany? But there is no mistake.

Here in Bulgaria, pharmacies sell diapers one at a time. This is not a throw-away society and in the interests of economy, most children here are raised mostly on a routine of cloth diapers coupled with elimination training. Plus, when spending hot, hot summers in the villages, where life is more relaxed, most babies are allowed to play in the shade completely naked. Pampers, as all disposable diapers are called here, are used mostly when traveling or visiting someone where a leak would be very unwelcome. Convenience is not a big priority here. People operate according to need rather than ease.

There are a lot of other differences in how children are cared for. I think the biggest single difference is the role of grandmothers in a child’s life. In socialist times, most women retired at 55. They were needed to help care for their grandchildren while their daughters and daughters-in-law worked. Now, under the free economy, retirement at 55 is not an option for most grandmothers. That doesn’t mean they aren’t still the primary caregivers of young children. After leaving their “career position” many women take part-time jobs as shop assistants or start small businesses to supplement their meager pensions. A former electrical engineer I met at the playground with her grandson, now runs a book and stationary shop with one of her former colleagues.

The grandchildren, at least in the summertime, go to work with their babas. On market days, the children sit on little chairs beside their grandmothers, chatting to customers, reading, and demanding treats.

In the rural villages, while grandparents grow vegetables and raise animals that feed the entire family, children run a little more freely, greeting each other, stopping in to view events at other houses, in other gardens, playing in nature, taking afternoon naps and demanding treats from the village shops.

Not everything is different. At the Internet Cafe where I write every morning, the attendant is also a mother. Her son, who looks to be about 16 months-old, comes to visit with his grandmother during their walk every morning. 

Mother and child are always just delighted to see each other.