Folx is birthin' babies. Left. Right. Front. Back... someone in my life is either with with child or has recently produced one, the closest of which being one of my dear sisters. And with a nugget (my term of affection for a baby) comes responsibility. Lots of it. So...if I've birthed NO babies, why do I find myself in a position of quasi-shephardship?
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| Why is this my problem? |
This should not make me anxious. I am, after all, the oldest of a large tribe (oldest of six. I'm Nigerian - this is normal for us). I should be used to it by now. But, something about rearing the next generation and the weight of this added (read: unrequested) responsibility got to me. Fortunately, I've instituted a few practices to ease the anxiety AND win the competition of best muthaf*ckin aunt--yes, it is a thing.
- Staring Game: perfect your staring game. Whether the child likes you or naw, staring works. And by work, I mean they are instantly transfixed and captivated by your giganticness. Add repetitive laughter, neck rolls/pops, and one-word syllabic sounds that start with consonants, and the object of your attention will laugh uproariously. BONUS POINTS if this laugh happens in front of the parents.
- Pass It. Knowing when to pass the progeny to a grandparent, aunt/uncle, or whomever... is considered respected, is gold. You'll be deemed loving not needy. Warm not suffocating. Responsible not power-hungry. You'll avoid the nappie changes and cries that sound like hell, while still creating enough memories to embarrass your niece/nephew. BONUS POINTS if you avoid a blowout.
- Food: Have food (and water) in the form the child can consume. And make it bland as f**k. One need not be blamed for a pepper-induced screaming fit. BONUS POINTS if you remember to pack stuff for yourself.
Basically, be there and be present. In the end, it's not all *on* you. The fallback/blame is reserved for the parents (then maybe the grandparents or godparents, in that order... I think.)
Happy rearing.
-N
Happy rearing.
-N