filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
Here’s a refreshing celebrity point-of view–the idea that “having it all” just isn’t practical and that “giving life is easier than giving love.” Granted, for some of us, the latter isn’t exactly true, but if only everyone gave this much thought to the parenthood decision.
Cameron Diaz: Happily Not Having It All – Expertise – SavvyAuntie.com.
A couple of years ago my husband and I went to see one of our favorite bands in concert, where they introduced their hot new drummer. I fell in love instantly, despite being old enough (just about) to be his mother.
It wasn’t the first time I’d developed a crush on a rock star, but this was different. I wasn’t overcome with the urge to tear off his sweaty shirt or ride off into the night on the back of his motorcycle; I wanted to take him home and make him a nice dinner. I wanted to sit around the kitchen table and hear stories of his tour. I wanted to be able to tell everyone how proud I was of my son. I was experiencing my first Mommy Crush.
It was a weird experience and it started happening more often. Whenever I saw a cute boy, any sexual desire turned off, and I just wanted to mother him! For me it was one of those big life turning points, when you realize you’ve graduated to a new stage in life.
The problem was, I already new I was never going to get that chance, and a whole new set of emotions came over me. I’d already moved past longing for a baby, but now I had to deal with the idea that I’d never have a child that I could nurture and whose natural talents I could encourage. I would never be the cool mom of a grown child I could be proud of. (I rationalized that I’d never have to bail my grown child out of jail or shoehorn him out of the house when he turned 30 and still didn’t have a job, but it really didn’t help.)
But I’m wondering, is it just me or is the Mommy Crush a common phenomenon? Have you had a Mommy Crush? Or am I just weird?
Even though we don’t have children of our own, many of us have nieces and nephews or godchildren in our lives. In the past few years, I’ve come to realize how important my role as aunt is. I am a trusted adult with life experience, but I am not the dreaded parent. I am an ear to talk to, but I’m not the rule-maker. Best of all, because I won’t later have to be the disciplinarian, I am free to be fun and silly and maybe even a little bit bad (for example, going out for ice cream within the “You’ll ruin your dinner” timeslot.) I love being an aunt and my only regret is that I’m not geographically closer to my nieces and nephews.
I came across this website, Savvy Aunties, recently. It’s got lots of great information for aunts (and uncles, of course). It’s also a hang-out for childless aunties, and I found a few interesting articles for us there, such as this article about how parenthood is now regarded as a lifestyle choice, and some hot discussions on the forums, like this thread about insensitive things people say.
On the subject of being an aunt, my good friend, past guest blogger, and aunt-extraordinaire, Kathleen Guthrie, wrote this article, How to Be the World’s Best Aunt Ever.
Enjoy, Aunties and don’t forget to drop subtle hints to your loved ones that July 25th is Auntie’s Day!
I recently read Cheaper By The Dozen by Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth. If you’ve never read it, I recommend it. Don’t be put off by the awful Steve Martin movie version; the book is a classic. In one of the stories, the family with twelve children goes through a string of household help (not surprisingly) because, quote: “People can’t move from a quiet home to a large family.”
I can imagine the shock of moving from a small quiet family into a household of 14, but what about the other way around?
I’m from a family of three children, but my brothers are 11 and 13 years my senior, so in many ways I’m an only child. I have memories of quiet afternoons at home with my mum, or of just making my own entertainment if there were no neighborhood friends to play with. Even now, I enjoy my peaceful life and like nothing better than a quiet evening at home with a good book. If there’s no one to talk to, I talk to myself. I’m seldom bored or lonely.
But I wonder, if I’d grown up in house with a big family, would I feel the lack of children in my house more deeply? Would I crave the noise and chaos, or would the quiet life I have be a welcome rest?
Do you come from a big family? Do you crave that company or have you adapted quite easily to a quieter life?
According to an article in this morning’s LA Times, the cost of raising a child has increased by 22% since 1960. The grand total for raising one child from birth to age 17 is now $222, 360.
For one child.
Before college.
So, the question is, what are you going to do with your spare quarter-million dollars?
Unfortunately, mine isn’t sitting around waiting to be spent, but if it were, I’d be writing tomorrow’s post from the coast of Madagascar, next week’s from the top of a camel in the Sahara, and the following week’s from the Great Wall of China. A quick word or two posted from the base camp of Everest, and then I’d probably have to come home for a while, if only to do laundry. I could use a new car to be honest, and I probably ought to save part of it for a down-payment on a house, but as I’d once anticipated having four children, I have the best part of a million dollars to spend all on myself.
Yes, this is a silly fantasy, but just for a moment, play along with me. How would you spend the $222,360 you saved by not having children?
One of the best things about not having children of my own is the time I get to spend with other children in my life. Without the constant pull of parenting duties, I can take time to talk to my niece about some of the numerous issues that go along with being a teenager. When she “Facebooks” me with a problem, she becomes my number one priority and I can take the time to help her through it. When a friend’s daughter asks if I will write a story for her, or another niece asks if I’ll knit a sweater for her new teddy bear, or a nephew asks if I’ll take him—just him–out for a walk, I can tell them that I will, without having to consider if I’m neglecting my own children.
These relationships are a gift I find I’m glad to accept—an opportunity to form bonds that I wouldn’t have had if I’d had kids of my own. I know they’re not the same as a mother-child bond, but for those children in my life, I also know that our relationship is special and valuable to them in a different way. It’s a voluntary relationship, one entered into freely, and something a mother-child is not. Mothers and children don’t get to choose one another and if they don’t get along, they’re stuck. I get to choose the relationships I form with other children and they get to choose to have me in their lives, too. It’s a beautiful and fortunate thing.
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