Aunt Misbehavin’ 

 By Sorcha Blaine 
The last 40 years have seen a lot of 
inventions: color televisions, birth control 
pills, microwave ovens, aunts and uncles.
It’s not that aunts and uncles didn’t 
exist before 1960, but they had different 
job descriptions then.  They were mothers 
and fathers, as well.  They had their own 
kids to look after and worry about and 
take on vacations and spend money on.  
Of course they cared about their nieces 
and nephews but the relationship was 
based on proximity rather than choice.
  
Now all that’s changed.

These days a lot of women (including me) 
and men are opting not to have children.  
We don’t feel we have the patience to 
address the full-time needs of a cat much 
less a child.  Or perhaps we’re just lazy, 
self-absorbed and want our sun-washed 
decks to remain Fisher-Price-free.  In 
any case, we’ve got no kids.  

But we’ve got a few extra hours a 
week.  

And we’ve got a little bit of money.  

And we’ve got a big selection of 
relatives.  

And those relatives love it when we 
take their kids out.

I love it, too.

I pick them up clean: freshly scrubbed, 
hair combed, eager for a day with their 
Auntie.

I bring them back a few hours later: 
chocolate stains on their clothes, scratching 
fresh mosquito bites, cranky from their 
sugar crash.

“Here you go,” I say, handing off my 
nephew to my sister, “we had a great day!  
Same time next week.”  And I’m gone.  
My sister has had the day to herself.  

My nephew has gone someplace special.

And I get to be all glow-y and maternal 
for a specific, limited period of time.  
(I think I mentioned above about being 
self-absorbed.)

To quote Martha Stewart (not a 
Boomer but she’s done a lot of outreach 
work with Boomers):  “It’s a good thing.”
And the very best part of this very 
good thing is that as an aunt or an uncle, 
we’re not limited by expectations of what 
we can or should do with the kids.

Parents have to worry about maintaining 
discipline. 
 
Grandparents can love unconditionally.

Child-free aunts and uncles, though 
- and I mean those of us who came along 
after 1960 - have the opportunity to define 
ourselves and our relationship in a brand 
new way.  I prefer the “Auntie Mame” 
model.  I send them silk kimonos from 
Chinatown for Christmas. I demonstrate 
the art of walking barefoot on a public 
sidewalk without stepping in anything nasty.  
I argue with cabdrivers.  I gossip about 
celebrities.  I purposefully aim to embrace 
ideas and actions that they may not be 
exposed to, otherwise. My hope is that it 
will widen their circle of comfort about 
themselves and others.  It will appeal to 
those parts within that don’t fit quite right 
just yet - those same parts that may 
worry their parents and which their 
grandparents try to overlook.  

Around me, no matter what, they’re 
safe, they’re loved.  But they’re also 
damn well going to be entertained 
because I don’t like to be bored, either. 

And when I bring them back a few 
hours later - chocolate stains on their 
clothes, scratching fresh mosquito bites, 
cranky from their sugar crash - they’re 
smiling.