Never in my life could I have imagined the thrills and exhaustion of living the Aunt life.
I am Aunt Jenny.
I had the privilege of spending the weekend with my niece and nephew. It was exhausting. It was sweaty. It was dirty. It smelled like cotton candy. It smelled like soap. It smelled like Silly Putty. I wiped away tears. I used my own shirt to wipe snotty noses without a second thought. I kissed bruises. I hugged them a lot. They were the fullest hugs of my life.
I was lovingly, mentally tortured by my niece’s wit. She is just mini me. I was inadvertently, physically, tortured by my nephew who is the definition of a rough and tumble, almost four year old, boy.
I cried in a bathroom out of exhaustion. But the exhaustion tears turned to weeps of joy. What a gift to have this time with them. They’ll never be these ages again. I get to be here. It is glorious!!
I get to show up.
I spent my youth dreaming of having my own children. I spent my 20’s bitter I had none. I spent my 30’s accepting I wouldn’t have my own.
My 40’s are reserved for the children God blessed me with. These souls full of love and life and wonder through wander.
Every skinned knee, every ice cream cone lick, every moment of teaching them things: how to write letters, what rockets are, who The Beatles are, what volcanoes do, throwing shade, what an assembly line is, what charity means, how to cook, using manners…how to cheer for José Altuve. It all matters. Every breath is a gift. Every simple question is a moment to teach them. I never stop teaching.
Why?
I have the luxury of waving goodbye to them. I have the luxury of kissing them goodnight and telling my brother or his wife to drive safe. I have the luxury of saying, “I need a nap.” Moms and dads never have those moments.
They don’t get breaks. They don’t get to check out. They don’t get to binge TV with a best friend and just unload about life without being interrupted by their little. And that’s why, as an Aunt, you show up.
Every.
Damn.
Time.
I get to try and exhaust them physically and mentally to give my brother a break so he can catch a nap on his day off. (After he’s had back breaking 20 hour days for months.) I get to explain to them why we need to give mommy a moment to catch her breath when she walks in from work and eats for the first time of the day at 8pm. I get to holler at them about manners and make them hug it out after a fight. I get to tackle tough questions as my niece is now cognoscente of conversations between adults. “Why do police living here make us feel safe, Aunt Jenny?” And, even while sitting next to my brother, I tackle telling this little girl, with her giant brown eyes and long flowing, golden curls, about crime without making her feel unsafe. “Just how daddy keeps you safe from bad people, they do too.” Teaching at their “level” has become a learning experience. Learning not to over-explain came swiftly. Simple answers work.
My niece: “Aunt Jenny, why does Aunt X not love me anymore?”
Me: “She does sweetie. She misses you! She’ll never stop loving you. Sometimes adults take breaks.”
My niece: “ugh!!!!” *irritated*
Me: “Be kind, girl. We pray to Jesus when we miss people.”
My niece: “Aunt Jenny?”
Me: “yes, Ella?”
My niece: “like like like…how we miss Snacks, playing in Heaven with Jesus? Like Snackies?”
(Snacks…my 18mo old Labrador which is her first memorable experience of death.)
Me: “yes, girl. Love her like Snackies.”
*pause in the convo as I catch my breath and wait for her next question*
My niece: “Aunt Jenny. Uhmm....Can we get some strawberry milk,m? Because I need that!”
Me: “Duh, silly!! Absolutely we can. As soon as we get to Grandma & Grandpa’s house.”
My niece: “ok. Now give me your phone, because…ummm….I don’t like this music.”
(I haven’t sold her on patriotic marches yet.)
While I drive safer than I ever have in my life, because I have such precious cargo in my backseat, I toss my phone to her. She navigates through my hundreds of apps to the folder with her name on it. She clicks on it and scrolls past her games, YouTubeKids, etc. She picks Alice Cooper from her playlist…and starts dancing.
—
This world is full of pain and sadness.
More importantly it’s full of sweetness. God gives us these innocent babies with huge open minds, and hearts, to remind us to live and love fully.
I can’t wait until my niece has her own babies. I can’t wait to tell them all her stories. I can’t wait to tell my nephew’s sons to go fart on their dad and watch them giggle, as only little boys can, as they say, “ewwwww!!!! Stinky!!!!”
I’ll still be here. Showing up. With gratitude.
I don’t deserve them. I never will. They teach me more than I’ll ever teach them about life.
May God protect and bless them always. I know he will. A God who decides to make me a trusted Aunt can do anything.
I’m the worst candidate ever with the best job of my life.
Highly recommend. 10 out of 10 stars.
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