Tag Archives: only child

The adopted aunt.

Last blog was 11 days ago, hey! I’m getting better at this thing!

I won’t get too far ahead of myself. I’ve done this before..


Today is Veterans Day, and though I am super appreciative of everything that they have done for myself and this country, that is not what I am focusing today’s blog on. Maybe an idea on a future blog, however..

Today one of my friends gave birth to her baby girl!! I find myself super excited, as this is the fourth time I have become an “aunt,” and I can’t wait to meet her!

Why are you putting “aunt” in quotations, you may ask?


Because I am an only child, I will never be an aunt (by blood, at least).

Now, there are MANY things that separate life experiences of those with siblings from those who are only children. Honestly, that is a blog post I’ve been working in my head for quite some time – delving into why being an only child is both a blessing and a curse, the different nuances of personal qualities and attributes I can blame/thank for being an only child…hell, I’ve probably already written about it and forgotten. Regardless, be prepared – an entry will be coming soon.

Before I ramble too much…as I was saying, there are many things that differentiate a person with a larger family/siblings from someone like me, who is an only child and has a small family. The fact that I will never be an aunt by blood is something that I somewhat struggle with. If I don’t have any children of my own, I will never have the joy of sharing any DNA with any child, ever, actually; and because I do not have any desire to be a mother, well, basically, I have zero DNA connection to the future. I will not share a special bond with a child, one of those bonds only family can have. Quite frankly, that hurts me.

I have always, throughout my childhood, called people my sisters, brothers, cousins, relatives…that are of distant association. I have claimed people as my family by choice. Just because there is no bloodline shared, does not mean that a family by choice is any less meaningful.

It does, however, raise some questions.

I’ve been asked on multiple occasions why I call my friends my sisters, or why I call my friends’ children my nieces and nephews. I know that not everyone can understand why I am quick to call myself Aunt Calli, or why I am not more of a home body and yearn to spend time with those I am close with. It is simple – I want a family.

Before we all jump to the conclusion that my ovaries are on overdrive, that is not what I mean. As I have stated before, I honestly do not feel that I am going to be a mother. Again, this subject could be its own blog post – about how people shame women who don’t want to be mothers, for feeling as if something is wrong with people who don’t choose to have children, etc. I will be writing on this at a later date as well. No, I do not have a maternal instinct, a desire to raise a child of my own. But I do have a desire to be an aunt and still play a role in children’s lives, especially to those children that are being raised by my friends.

I have a huge heart. I place my family, boyfriend and friends in the utmost regard. Though I am human and sometimes make mistakes, my friends should always know that I love them – if not, well, now you do.

And I love your children. I will always vow to be the “cool aunt,” the one that takes them for a weekend and spoils them rotten, the one that remembers them on their birthdays and wants them to join us when we spend time together (though forgive me if in the future I also want us to spend time without kids 😉 ). Just because I am not choosing to be a mother myself does not mean that I dislike children. That is absolutely not true, and will never be true. Period.

I see my relationships as a privilege, and will always take my title as Aunt Calli, the adopted aunt, seriously.

So. In conclusion, should you feel that your child needs an auntie, by all means – I will be more than willing to adopt them into my tribe of nieces and nephews, and I will love them dearly! But for now, I have two lovely nieces (both named Aurora, ironically!) and two lovely nephews – (you guys know who you are) – and though I don’t get to see them/their mommies nearly as much as I would like, I am so happy to be a part of their lives. Thank you for understanding, and welcoming me into your family 🙂


Aunt Calli, the adopted aunt


One is the loneliest number

Something my mom recently said to me has been sticking with me. Annoying how those mom-comments tend to do that, eh?

While talking to my mom about my roommate leaving soon (which he now has!! I’ll save that story for another day…) and I will once again be living alone, I said that I will probably feel lonely. Her reply was, “You really don’t like being alone, do you?” Which, you know, to me implied that I was incapable of being alone and that I was needy, and that I don’t like myself. It’s been nagging at me, because I feel quite the contrary.

I am perfectly capable of being alone. I just prefer being in the company of others.

Let me backtrack and explain a little further.

I have always considered myself an independent person. I am an only child, and as such, I was forced to play by myself constantly when not in the company of classmates and family members. I constantly read, invented friends, talked to myself, choreographed dances in front of a mirror, played with my dolls/Barbies, watched TV and even hit tennis balls against a wall to occupy my time. While this may sound sad, trust me, I had quite the wild imagination..

But, in the same breath, I am terribly social. I LOVE talking with anyone and everyone about anything. I love being able to relate with people on one simple thing and letting the conversations flow from there. The endless possibilities of connecting with others fascinates me, especially those around my own age.

This is why my current job is not quite cutting it, socially .

You’d think as a journalist, conversing with other people on a daily basis is enough of an interaction. Perhaps some days it is, and I do enjoy those that I converse with. However, I have an extremely hard time relating. There are not many people here my age to talk to (with the exception of the one friend my age that I’ve made. You know who you are!). I spend my days talking with those of the baby boomer generation and older, those around the age of my parents and grandparents, and while I like interacting with them, I find myself yearning for the friends my own age to whom I can relate a little more. I am also stuck behind a desk 95% of the time, in an office where I can’t often interact with others.

Then I get home from the office, where I don’t even know what to do with myself. After years of living in a college environment where I was constantly surrounded by those my own age, and I was able to call any of them at any give moment to meet up, I am now living alone in a town where I know a handful of people and have limited opportunities of social interaction. And, to be honest, I am kind of  sad. Okay, really sad.

So, I am left with this question: Does being social and enjoying spending time in the company of others more than spending time by myself qualify me as needy or incapable of being alone? Has the college environment made me completely incapable of living or being on my own?

Don’t get me wrong. Even though I may not treat myself the best all the time, I do like myself, and I LOVE spending time alone. I get to do whatever I want, whenever I want, and I don’t really have to answer to anyone, SO THERE. (That just felt like the right way to end such a selfish sentence.) I think it’s the fact that I don’t really have much of a choice, that most of my options leave me no choice but doing them by myself, that makes my life seem so boring and depressing. Does that make any sense? Maybe it just does to me. Maybe I’m a product of my environment and I have become so used to having a plethora of choices and opportunities for activities, I have become so used to being able to decide if I felt like being alone or if I wanted to “hang out,” that I now require those same options in my daily life after college.

Maybe, just maybe, though, I just need to tough it out and quit being a baby.

Maybe, instead, I’ll choose to treat these past months (and months to come) spent on my own as a learning experience. I don’t know what exactly this is supposed to teach me; maybe that I’m capable of handling much more than I thought I could, or maybe that my own company is enough. I’m sure that I’ll figure it out in the future. After all, that’s what our 20s are about, isn’t it? Growing and learning, and not realizing the point of it all until later on? As much as that sucks, and as much as I want to know the answers to all of life’s problems NOW, I am slowly realizing that I cannot, and will not, know. Life is about taking the time to be by yourself, to learn about yourself and the path you are on, and to become more in-touch with your own wants/needs, especially when you’re young. Hopefully I will figure it all out one of these days, but for now I’m kept in the dark. Alone and on my own path. (Well, sort of).

Bring it.

P.S. I’m pretty damn sick of the word “maybe” right about now. But, MAYBE (ha ha), the word is a metaphor of the 20s; endless possibilities and answers. Hmm. Just some food for thought…