I am the best Auntie that I can be. If you ask any of my 20 nieces and nephews, at least the ones who have met me and can talk, they'll tell you that I'm fun, exciting, take an interest in them, and always try to laugh. Also, I love kids in general: I love to work with kids who are less financially fortunate; I love to mentor kids who need a stable adult in their lives; I even love to make funny faces at babies in line at the supermarket.
From this, people say, "You would be a great mother."
However, I beg to differ . . .
I'm a great Auntie because I can come in like Cat in the Hat, make all kinds of fun, make nonsensical remarks, make a big mess, and at the end of the day, go home. I don't have to: change diapers, kiss boo boos, dole out punishments, talk to teachers, get the kids anywhere on time, make any decisions about how to raise them, or how NOT to raise them.
If I was a mother, it would scare the living crap out of me. My full head of almond brown hair would be as white as Steve Martin’s. I would stand over the crib at night and look down at that sweet, peaceful, angelic face sleeping so soundly, and stop in horror as I wonder if it is still breathing. I would hold a mirror up to its tiny little nostrils just to see it fog. I would make one of those apparatuses like Bob Dylan had to play harmonica; but, instead have a baby version with a mirror so that I can make sure it stays fogged. In fact, the crib wouldn't be safe enough for this mom. I would have that thing lined in bubble wrap. As the kid grows up I would worry, “Am I not paying enough attention to him/her. Am I paying too much attention to him/her.”
I read an article recently that asked parents with single friends not to say this, "You're so lucky you get to sleep in/shop/travel." The author of the article assumed that the single person would take offence and, “make us feel like you assume the reason we don't have children is that we're lazy, selfish, or shallow.” Well I’m here to tell you the author is wrong. I AM that lazy/selfish/shallow. I wouldn’t want to get pregnant unless my husband has enough money to pay for reconstructive surgery. I wouldn’t want to have kids unless my husband can afford a nanny to help with the messy, sticky, smelly bits of parenting. I wouldn’t want to have kids unless I can dress them up in really cute clothes and walk them around as an accessory.
I am a great Auntie/mentor/teacher because I get to go home to the quiet and solitude of my one bedroom apartment and get a good night sleep, wake up slowly in the morning, have a quiet coffee, practice an hour of peaceful yoga, work on meaningful projects that don’t have to earn enough money to buy diapers or contribute to a college fund, read a good novel alone under the shade of a tree, lose track of time at a friend’s house while laughing and chatting about the craziness of life.
Most importantly, I have time to look in the faces of these sweet children and want to give them the best in life, to want to foster every dream they have, to want to hug them and keep them warm at night. Then, I have time to work on bigger projects and work with higher-end companies who can make projects to help more kids around the world to get blankets to babies, to send kids to camp, to have clean drinking water, to give them an opportunity to achieve their goals in life.
I am the best Auntie that I can be. If you ask any of my 20 nieces and nephews, at least the ones who have met me and can talk, they'll tell you that I'm fun, exciting, take an interest in them, and always try to laugh. Also, I love kids in general: I love to work with kids who are less financially fortunate; I love to mentor kids who need a stable adult in their lives; I even love to make funny faces at babies in line at the supermarket.
From this, people say, "You would be a great mother."
However, I beg to differ . . .
I'm a great Auntie because I can come in like Cat in the Hat, make all kinds of fun, make nonsensical remarks, make a big mess, and at the end of the day, go home. I don't have to: change diapers, kiss boo boos, dole out punishments, talk to teachers, get the kids anywhere on time, make any decisions about how to raise them, or how NOT to raise them.
If I was a mother, it would scare the living crap out of me. My full head of almond brown hair would be as white as Steve Martin’s. I would stand over the crib at night and look down at that sweet, peaceful, angelic face sleeping so soundly, and stop in horror as I wonder if it is still breathing. I would hold a mirror up to its tiny little nostrils just to see it fog. I would make one of those apparatuses like Bob Dylan had to play harmonica; but, instead have a baby version with a mirror so that I can make sure it stays fogged. In fact, the crib wouldn't be safe enough for this mom. I would have that thing lined in bubble wrap. As the kid grows up I would worry, “Am I not paying enough attention to him/her. Am I paying too much attention to him/her.”
I read an article recently that asked parents with single friends not to say this, "You're so lucky you get to sleep in/shop/travel." The author of the article assumed that the single person would take offence and, “make us feel like you assume the reason we don't have children is that we're lazy, selfish, or shallow.” Well I’m here to tell you the author is wrong. I AM that lazy/selfish/shallow. I wouldn’t want to get pregnant unless my husband has enough money to pay for reconstructive surgery. I wouldn’t want to have kids unless my husband can afford a nanny to help with the messy, sticky, smelly bits of parenting. I wouldn’t want to have kids unless I can dress them up in really cute clothes and walk them around as an accessory.
I am a great Auntie/mentor/teacher because I get to go home to the quiet and solitude of my one bedroom apartment and get a good night sleep, wake up slowly in the morning, have a quiet coffee, practice an hour of peaceful yoga, work on meaningful projects that don’t have to earn enough money to buy diapers or contribute to a college fund, read a good novel alone under the shade of a tree, lose track of time at a friend’s house while laughing and chatting about the craziness of life.
Most importantly, I have time to look in the faces of these sweet children and want to give them the best in life, to want to foster every dream they have, to want to hug them and keep them warm at night. Then, I have time to work on bigger projects and work with higher-end companies who can make projects to help more kids around the world to get blankets to babies, to send kids to camp, to have clean drinking water, to give them an opportunity to achieve their goals in life.
