This may sound a bit harsh, but I don’t look at it that way. As the last child out of four over a 14 year span, and being the one at home when Dad started his own business with Mom running it vs. being a housewife, I didn’t get the personal attention that the older siblings did.
I grew up wearing hand-me-downs, listening to the records and reading the books that were left behind. I had no room of my own, but moved from one sibling’s to another as they left and then returned. The treasures that they left behind held mysteries that were left unanswered for many years.
Mom, now 85, still occasioinally brings up a sense of guilt for not being more involved in my upbringing. The only resentment that occasionally crops up is that there was no sexual education from Mom, and they wouldn’t allow me to join the YMCA girl’s basketball team like all of my friends did. Had they, it probably would have built better team skills that had to be painfully learned later in life. Even then, it is still a work in progress.