Wednesday, January 30, 2008 11:22 PM CST
COLUMN: Rule No. 1 for aunts who baby-sit: Don't forget the tissues
By PENNY WEAVER, Night news editor
pweaver@jg-tc.com
The next time I read news of a potential “baby boom,” I’m gonna buy stock in Kleenex.
I might just make a habit of doing that about nine months after each time we have a big snowstorm or something — might as well be prepared.
I spent last weekend on aunt duty, hanging out with my oldest nephew, Danny, who is 8, and his sisters, Isabel, 5 going on 6, and Olivia, 3 going on 4. I don’t want to sell the girls short on their ages, because they certainly think they are big girls, and they both have birthdays this spring.
The first thing I learned as a temporary parental figure is that carrying tissues in every available pocket is a must. I normally don’t cart around Kleenexes — just keep a few in the truck — but by the end of the weekend, I had tissues in my jeans pockets, jacket pockets, and was tempted to stash some in my shirt sleeves.
The girls both had runny noses, so I became somewhat skilled at folding the tissue, holding it in place on a little nose, and saying, “Blow! Harder!” Wow. I didn’t know such miniscule nostrils could be so productive.
I don’t have kids, so I concentrate on having fun being an aunt. I always tell the kids I’m their “favorite aunt,” and as long as they are below age 10, I think I’ll have enough candy to maintain that status. After that, it’s gonna take a lot of cash, I expect.
Not having kids, I usually can be ridiculously selfish. I have only myself — and my old Pug dog Henry — to worry about. I can buy soda and dog food and treats — the former for me, the latter for Henry — and whatever rated DVD movies I want to select, for example.
My house isn’t kid-proof, and the closest thing to a kid video I have is “The Sound of Music.” I do laundry once a week — no little socks or tiny undies with Dora on them, and no little Spider-Man pajamas (Superman is better anyway) — and there are no sippy cups in my cabinet.
I don’t have to buy kids’ medicines or toothbrushes or plan for college costs or things like that. I can drive a truck because I don’t have to worry about fitting car seats in a four-door mom-mobile or a family minivan.
Suddenly, on Saturday, I found myself behind the wheel of such a minivan, three kids in the back in their respective and appropriate safety seats, and my fingers fumbling with the stereo to find a CD and kid-appropriate song. Their latest favorite is “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” by John Denver. They like to sing and clap along.
Wow. My admiration and respect for parents just about doubled in a day or so. First it was basketball practice for Danny, with a bag of activities for the girls while we sat nearby on the bleachers for an hour and a half. Their mom is incredibly organized, so that made it much easier for a non-parent like me.
Luckily, Isabel is old enough now to do her own hair, because Aunt Penny is lazy and has short hair and just plain does not do “girl” hair. Isabel did well with a bow and a ponytail, and I managed to brush out Olivia’s hair and called it good enough.
We had a bit of a struggle with clothes. Daniel picked out a regular T-shirt for church Sunday morning, and he pouted when Aunt Penny — maybe I learned to refer to myself in third person from Seinfeld: “George is gettin’ upset!”, I don’t know — made him change to a nicer shirt.
Then Olivia wanted to wear pink tights with a dark turquoise dress. No, I told her, the light pink leotards and dark pink socks were no good — it had to be white leotards.
Well, she’s a stubborn one, and I soon decided not to fight that fight. Who says pink and turquoise don’t go together anyway?
After basketball on Saturday, we went to a dance class for the girls. It took me nearly an hour to get them both over their shyness and convince them to join the other girls and the “big girls” — the cheerleaders conducting the session.
Danny and I had books to read, but he took photos with my digital camera and stayed busy while the girls “danced” for two hours, and I talked to the other moms — I mean, to the real moms. They were all calm and cool; I wonder what they thought of Aunt Penny’s flustered, Kleenex-fueled minor hysteria?
Actually, I did all right. All the kids lived through the weekend; none even needed a Band-Aid. They’re all good kids, and since I’ve been working out and getting fit lately, I kept up with them.
We had a birthday party at the skating rink on Sunday, and I even put on roller skates and managed to stay upright. I didn’t try the limbo, however; let’s not push it here.
Kids crack me up. They are so honest, and I love it. When the parents passed out birthday cake, I declined a piece and told Isabel and Olivia, “I don’t need any.” And Isabel whispered to me, “That’s ’cause you’re already fat, right?” I laughed and said, “Yes.”
As we were on our way out, a parent who didn’t know us referred to me as Olivia’s mom. Olivia quickly corrected her: “She’s not a Mom — she’s an Aunt Penny.”
Since that is what I’m meant to be, I’m just fine with that. One of the keys to happiness in life is appreciating what you’ve got when you’ve got it. I love spending time with the kids, and I also enjoy having a nice quiet house and a cantankerous but calm old dog. It’s all good.
Hats off to all the parents, especially the moms, out there who always have a Kleenex and never forget a bottle of water when headed for basketball practice.
I don’t know how you do it all, but I’m banking on your continued tissue use. Let those snotty noses run!
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coonbug wrote on Feb 1, 2008 9:50 AM:
It sounds like your AUNTIE life is very similar to my own. It's amazing how parents do what they do. I've got two 3 year twins in my family and when they come over I am wore out within 5 hours. I've been pretty lucky over previous years. Whenever we've had a child around, it was either just one child, or it was just little one and an older child that could handle himself. Taking on two of the same age and making them happy can be exhausting...LOL.
My problem is, I 'want' to entertain them constantly - parents on the other hand, tend to tell the kids, "go play". Nothing wrong with that (you do have other work to do) -- I just mean to give reason as to why I'm pooped after just a few hours with them. I love being AUNTIE - you get the best of both worlds. You get their LOVE and you get to eventually send them all home.
Coonsey's View
www.freewebs.com/coonsey/ "