As I hoist my scrawny six year old nephew onto my lap, sopping swimtrucks and all, my mom gives me a knowing look and says, “You better be careful. I think you’re starting to like kids.”
And she’s right. I am starting to like kids. Not that I was ever against kids… Eh, maybe a little. But I couldn’t ever really be against kids because I grew up with them. I think the people that say they hate kids are the ones that have never really been around them. The most they’ve been around children is a second cousin at Thanksgiving dinner as they’re blowing snot bubbles into the cranberry sauce. So it makes sense that their outlook of children would be bleak.
But not me! Well not anymore as of recently. Don’t get me wrong, throwing myself into a ball pit of children would be akin to throwing myself to the wolves. I’d be overwhelmed and the worst would be brought out in me. Maybe it’s because they’re older or because I’m older or both (probably both), but I thoroughly enjoy being in the company of children. (Noted: referring specifically to the children in my life) They are such cool little creations.
I was the baby of the entire family until my older sister squeezed out the first cool little creation on August 17, 2006. The little guy and I grew up together and it was like having the little sibling I always dreamed of. I mean, he drove me nuts a few years later, always throwing tantrums and wanting every single thing I had. Annoying as all get out. But still, I secretly loved having him around, especially as a baby because I’d never been around one.
Since then, my life has been blessed with four more kids. My dad remarried and I gained a younger brother and eventually a younger sister. Add in the mix a niece and another nephew to bring us up to speed. And I LOVE THEM. I adore every single one of them so much. Even when they bicker over who gets the window seat on the airplane or when a young one won’t stop making an obnoxious noise and an older one seethes.
Since we all live within 50 yards of each other on the block where my older sister and I grew up, there’s basically no shortage of children (and young adults, I should say). Ever. But I’m not complaining!
For the longest time, I treated kids like a chore and an annoyance. Not that I was explicitly mean or hateful really. I just had a short temper and my dad’s impatience. I didn’t know how to diffuse temper tantrums or really even interact well with the kids. And I’m still not like Mother Teresa or anything by any means. But my attitude has shifted.
I remember one particular instance over winter break. My youngest nephew, Jackson, is a hotheaded little shit, alright. My sister had run to the store just up the street to pick something up and left me in charge. Well, within the ten minutes she was gone, Jackson and I found ourselves in a screaming match because he wouldn’t listen to me and I didn’t know how to make him listen. I tried employing the “look” my mom would give me that sent shivers up my spine and let me know that I was teetering on “being in some big trouble, miss.” Time out didn’t work. Employing all the “gentle parenting tips” I saw on TikTok didn’t work. Yelling didn’t work because he just yelled back and told me I was the WORST BABYSITTER EVER. I told my sister I’d never babysit again.
Last week, I volunteered my best friend and I to babysit while on family vacation. And we had A BLAST! We showed my niece how to boogie board and Jackson practiced swimming, all the while ensuring routine sunscreen application. And I didn’t find myself constantly checking my phone, wondering when my sister would return to take her heathens back or asking “Again?!!” when Jackson wanted me to catch him in the pool.
So what changed? Obviously, all the kids and I are both older which helps things a lot. And for most of the year, I don’t live at home anymore. I’m not around them as much. Absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever. Sounds cheesy, but I soak in every moment I have with them because I do miss them when I’m at school.
I also realized that I avoided developing like “real” relationships with the kids because I worried so much about how I would negatively affect them. Something that I realize that I think others fail to (just tooting my own observational horn here) is how impressionable kids are! And not even in the sense that you know you can’t drop an f bomb for fear of little Susie repeating it at school and having it reflect on your parenting style. Yeah, maybe watch what you say around Susie for sure but it goes way deeper than that.
By reflecting on my own childhood, I realize how impressionable I was and how certain things kinda stuck with me. I think you’re almost forced to reflect on your childhood when spending a lot of time with kids. Kids are a product of their environment. They know that you don’t want to be included in photos because you think you look fat, but they just know that you’re the best person to hold them as they nap. They subconsciously absorb your negative body image. You telling them not to cry when they’re clearly distressed over something teaches them to invalidate their own feelings. They don’t know how to regulate their emotions and they won’t know if you don’t teach them. I didn’t know how my actions or words would affect them so I was hesitant.
The narrative switched when I realized it goes both ways. Yeah, you can be an irrelevant piece or even a dark cloud in a kid’s life. Or, you can be a light and a mentor. And I’ve chosen the latter. I’m trying to make the conscious decision to make my interactions as positive as possible and to do my part in their lives. It takes a village to raise kids and I take my tiny role in stride! I see my interactions with kids as opportunities to teach and offer different perspectives. We’re raising feminists if I have anything to do with it.
Being around kids has helped me heal my inner child and has helped me realize how to impact kids so they don’t have to heal their inner child in the same way I do. Be who you needed when you were younger.
In a way, I can relive my childhood with a spin. For example, my younger sister is growing up in a stable, two parent home which is something I never experienced. I am so happy that she has this experience, and obviously I’m happy that I am a part of this home too! But sometimes, I find myself feeling jealous because I wish that was me. It’s not a nasty jealousy, never, it’s just a sense of mourning for what could have been. I didn’t have a bad childhood or anything, but growing up in a so-called broken I don’t wish my life to be any different, but living vicariously through my younger sister’s childhood has almost given me a glance into my childhood.
That being said, I have found it difficult to establish a boundary for myself to not be absorbed in the kids’ childhood trauma. Everyone has it one way or another. That’s not my job to analyze how my family dynamic will impact them in adolescence, and yet I catch myself doing so anyways. It’s a learning curve.
Obviously, my positionality as a young aunt and an older sister allows me to take on this perspective. The responsibility of keeping these kids alive doesn’t directly fall to me. Unlike a parent/guardian, I don’t have to spend time with kids if I’m not feeling up for it. I’m just there as a built-in babysitter if I happen to be home and my dad needs to run some errands. So I don’t deal with the day to day shitfits and attitudes, disciplinary actions, and general worry about my child’s life. I’m not preoccupied with a marriage, a house, a career, hobbies, bills, health, and multiple kids on top of everything. I get the good without the bad in a way. My job is to bring the party!
I’m encouraging you to shift your perspective on kids, whether your own or even the neighbor kids who scare the bejesus out of you over the PA system in their dads police car (AKA my younger sister). They’re so cool with their little developing neural pathways and their silly comments. They do in fact say the darndest things (“Your butt STINKS”- Jackson to my poor mother in the midst of the Dollar General aisle). They’re pure and innocent even if they have bad attitudes and tantrums sometimes. I think sometimes people forget that children are their own person with thoughts and feelings and it’s important not to belittle those things even if they don’t seem monumental to you. To them, these things are their whole life, duh! It’s easy to write-off a 14 year old heartbreak as inconsequential and dumb, but it’s the end of the world to them. They won’t ever be as young as they are now.
Love them like you would love your younger self.
You & I will never be those kids again.
Z
The Mackadamia Nut 