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This June, I sat in a college athletic center, uncomfortable on bleachers but hardly noticing because of the pride I felt. I teared up as a particular very tall boy walked in to the strains of "Pomp and Circumstance" to receive his high school diploma. I went down to the floor with my digital point-and-shoot to wait with all the relatives holding video cameras and setting up tripods. (Tripods!) He tells me I didn't embarrass him, and in fact he was looking to see where I was.
(There I am on the left. He's in the middle, and my mother is on the right.)
He's not my child. He's my cousin, the son of my father's youngest brother - and my godson. Eighteen years ago I stood up in church - 18 myself, at the time - and promised to support his spiritual growth along with his parents. His dad is only 11 years older than I am, so I grew up more as a little sister than a niece.
I don't have children of my own. Hopefully I can add "yet" on the end of that, but I try not to play head games like that. It just hasn't happened for me, for a variety of reasons - the primary one being that I haven't ended up in a relationship solid enough to support the serious responsibility of parenting, and I haven't felt ready yet to do it on my own.
I'm not at all ambivalent about this. I really want to be a mother, to the point that I really struggle with this issue as the clock ticks and I haven't yet found myself in a situation that would support bearing or adopting a child. The stress of questions and suggestions about this situation is a post, nay, a book, in itself - not what I want to focus on here, but it's a critical part of the backstory, so to speak. Beacuse in the meantime, I live a full life that children are very much a part of, and I plan to make sure that this is always the case. They just happen to belong to other people - specifically my family members and friends, who have been generous enough to allow me to take roles of varying degrees in the lives of their kids. (I've been known to offer bribes, and I'll also push strollers and placate with candy, so there's that.)
My relationship with Michael is the most formal, I guess, marked by the holiday gifts and presence at milestone events that are typical for godparents. Others, like my relationship with my cousin's 4-year-old son, weren't sealed with holy water, but are no less important. I hang out with him, and watch him on occasion while his parents play softball. We play, and chatter, and I'm aware of special events in his life and where he'll be heading to pre-kindergarten this fall. My friends' children, likewise, are special to me. I talk to them on the phone when I call their moms, and I go to their birthday parties. They call me "Miss Laurie" and "Auntie Laurie" and occasionally, "What's up, Yo?" It's all good with me. I see their MySpace pages when Mom and Dad might not. They sit next to me on purpose at dinner.
I love it, and so I make room for them in my life, too. When I have parties, kids are welcome, and as I've gotten older, more and more of my friends need to be able to bring their kids with them either by choice or because babysitters aren't available or desirable. And when I go shopping with mom or have dinner with couples, it's always fine with me if the little people are there. Just because I don't have a family of my own spouse and children doesn't mean I lack an understanding of its importance, or can't hang with other people in theirs.
I honestly wouldn't have this any other way. I believe that having a wide range of contacts with people from all age groups is essential in my life. As the oldest child and grandchild on both sides of my family, I'm very comfortable with helping out with care and feeding, as well as the fun stuff.
I think this benefits the kids and parents in my life too, as well as it benefits me. I hope and believe that the parents who are important to
