Contributed by All American Indian Girl
You might assume I would find it unnerving to wake up with a foot in my face Friday morning, but the good news is it was a foot I recognized. Because the night before, I had the pleasure of babysitting my incredibly lovable 20-month-old nephew, known to all of my friends as The Munchkin. So it didn’t unnerve me in the least; because being an aunt to this small, strange creature has changed me.
Suddenly there is something incomparable about his gentle breaths, his unfiltered emotion, and yes, even his perfect pudgy little foot…which brings me tremendous peace.
This is how I know I am his Massi. (Hindi term for mother’s sister.)
And (for the record) while I probably would’ve masked his name for Internet purposes anyway, the truth is I actually call him The Munchkin in real life. As in “The Munchkin likes mango juice,” or “Munchkin, no biting!” It would be odd to refer to him by his actual name; since he’s not really an actual person…yet.
Anyway, he came into my life some 20 months ago, and has already found so many ways to change it. I wonder why few people blog about the joys of auntie-hood? It’s a seriously impactful life-change. Now it’s true my nephew is literally the most scrumptious little creature anyone has ever seen, but even if that wasn’t the case I think I would still feel this way. It’s more than just the temporary sating of my maternal instincts whenever he shows me some instinctive trust. It’s more than having a test-baby for my own future children. And it’s more than the fact that I get to give him back to his parents and then run around Manhattan all night long, pouring more and more wine into my niiiiiiice, flaaaaaaaat stomach whenever I want, because I’m not a mother yet. Although there is that. But being a Massi has taught me so very much already.
For one thing it has taught me fear. My father likes to say you don’t know real fear until you have children. Well, I don’t have any children of my own yet, but I have to say it’s a distinctive kind of terror which ensues when you care for a niece or nephew. There is a way the Munchkin looks at me, runs to me, buries his face in my hair, which makes it clear that – although he is in many ways just a small, hairless animal – he trusts me completely. And he recognizes his own. He knoooooows that I am more like his mother than other people. In fact, I’m as close as it gets. When somebody asks him to point out his massi, and he smiles and targets a sticky little finger towards me, I melt with love even as I shudder with fear. Because he is not my child, even though he sort of is. So if he got hurt on my watch…well…the less thought about that, the better.
And there is another dimension to the fear; as adults we can still visualize our siblings’ childlike selves within the grownup versions who are now caring for their children. And having seen them as children themselves, we know what their tears look like….I mean really look like. We have a visceral understanding of the depths at which our siblings would break if ever their children were hurt. Watching your sibling be a new parent is like watching their entire heart separate itself from their body…and then learn to run without fear. And put everything he sees into his mouth. And occasionally attempt to stick its finger into a light socket.
Suddenly, simple quiet moments become all that you wish for. And danger lurks everywhere, threatening to tear your entire family apart. So babysitting gets complicated.
Keeping up with a fast-footed infant isn’t easy. Thursday evening began with a frantic search for Bob (as in SpongeBob SquarePants, in case you’ve been living under a rock somewhere), who was eventually located hiding inside of the television. So sneaky! We ran around outdoors, ripping flowers off of their stems, meowing at a very confused cat, and trying our best to grab hold of the mysterious string of water emanating from a garden hose. When that didn’t work, we shoved the hose into our mouth. After drying off, we flipped through cookbooks, pointed at pictures, and entertained each other with animal impressions. At one point…and it pains me to say it…we had a scary run-in with the sharp end of a granite kitchen counter. But soon enough we channeled it into a song while smashing every key on the piano. Also, we ate elbow pasta one by one for a while. Then we drank our milk, and watched more Bob, and eventually fell asleep. In short, a great time for everyone.
Which brings us back to me, Friday morning, waking up face-to-foot with the Munchkin’s tiny feet. As far as first sights of the day go, this one could not have made me happier. Because he was breathing comfortably, and sleeping peacefully, and if I had managed to keep him alive all night, well then all was simply well with the world. Every single toe on his small, perfect, unblemished little feet were just fine.
Being an aunt really must be changing me, because the truth of it is I have never seen a more beautiful thing in my life.
Initially published on All American Indian Girl
