Being an Only Child

Disclaimer: Nothing in this post is meant to offend the vast majority of folks out there with siblings or, who choose to have more than one child. Kids are great. I love my nieces and nephews and my goddaughter. I am an only child writing in defense of only children. As you would expect, this is written from my own frame of reference, or as that big liar Ben Kenobi would say, “A certain point of view.”

A few months before my sister-in-law had her second child, I playfully asked if one would have been enough. She looked me square in the eyes and told me, “Only children are weird.” Wow. Condemn me right to my face, why don’t you?

I’ve spent some time digesting that statement, and I have some thoughts. More importantly, I have an argument to make: that we only children are no more or less well adjusted than all you “plus-ones” out there! I’m not here to decry anyone’s personal choices about having children, having more than one child, etc. In all honesty, I’m surprised I’ve never written about this before, since it sort of defines me.

There are a few of us “O.C.’s” out there and my favorite question has always been, “Do you feel like you missed anything?” People may argue there’s an inherent fallacy in the question, as how could you miss something you never had? However, I base the question on people’s impressions of multi-children households, since they seem to outnumber us 20-1. Let’s start with me: do I feel like I missed out?

No.

Why? As soon as I became conscious of families that had more than one kid (probably around the age of four), I was oh so glad to be me. Apparently, my Mom had a pregnancy scare when I was two, and if it had happened then I never would’ve known the difference. As I got older, and remained an only child longer, the thought of a sibling made me simply cringe. After my Mom went through menopause, I finally breathed a sigh of relief!

My best friend was an only child when we met as first graders. That didn’t last long. Within three years, he had two siblings and it eventually grew to three. Through his family I experienced the chaotic nature of multi-children households, and was always grateful when I returned home to my glorious solitude.

I came to love peace and quiet, even as a young child. I got used to being by myself and certainly kept myself busy with whatever juvenile obsession occupied my mind at the moment.

I suppose that on a subconscious level, being an only child made me cultivate my friendships in a way that others might not. I took them very seriously, and chose them (for the most part) wisely. You see, for better or worse, we are stuck with family. They aren’t going anywhere, and if we hate them, we can’t ditch them. Well, that isn’t completely true, but it’s kind of scandalous when we do.

I looked at my friends as people I wanted to be with. I loved hanging out with them, but I also loved it when they went home, and stopped touching my stuff! Seriously, I enjoyed the notion that we spent quality time together and that I could retreat back to the quiet, before it was time for another round of playing.

There were perks to being an only child as well. My parents could lavish all their attention and energy on me. Despite our middle class status, they sacrificed mightily to ensure I got everything I wanted, but more importantly, to give me the education they wanted for me. I went to Catholic grammar school and high school, and my mother got a full-time job so she could pay my way at a private college, and not stick me with loans.

It’s pretty humbling when you think about it, and I am forever grateful to them. Had they had other children they might not have been able to do so much for me, not for a lack of desire, but the financial situation would have been bleak. When you have a bunch of kids, saying that you will “find a way” is easier said than done.

Beyond my parents, I had a very small family growing up and my cousins were not a part of my life, so huge family gatherings, reunions, etc. were not the norm. My parents were extremely close to my godparents, whom they knew since they were dating. We spent every major holiday with them, celebrated birthdays, etc.

My godparents also had one child, a girl, and my parents are her godparents. I have a very special relationship with her that is very meaningful to me. It’s like having a sister, but without all the childhood resentments and baggage.

I have to confess a certain jealousy towards those with siblings. As only children, we often miss out on being a best man/maid of honor, or godparent. To be placed ahead of family in those situations is often verboten, and will cause a certain strife.

This year, one of my closest friends asked me to be his daughter’s godfather, and I have to admit, I was thrilled. He did put me ahead of family, and it said so much to me that he was willing to do that. I take very seriously the role he gave me, and I don’t think those who are already aunts and uncles of a kid might necessarily do likewise.

As I got older and experienced more families I did come to believe in the virtues of siblings as well (believe it or not!) All the girls I dated had a minimum of three siblings per household, and while they were all wildly different, they loved and supported each other without fail. Some argued constantly, and some were so syrupy sweet so as not to be believed, but the bottom line was their steadfast loyalty to each other, especially in times of crisis.

I have to be honest; I don’t relish the thought of being alone in experiencing my parents declining years, which terrifies me. I want to be there for them as they were for me, and while I will have my wife, I’m assuming it is then I will most keenly miss the unspoken understanding of a situation or a person that siblings share.

As an only child, getting married presented special challenges for me. I loved solitude so much I refused to go away to school, and share a room with a total stranger (NO WAY!), and was perfectly content to remain home for college. I honestly don’t feel I missed anything. I’m sure there are those out there who would violently disagree with me.

I knew getting married would be a challenge. Not only was I an only child - I was an only son. I truly believe there is a special dynamic between mothers and sons, and if you’re the only one – forget it. The sun rises and sets over you. I like to use this analogy: my mother would throw herself into an oncoming train to save me, or she’d throw my father at it, one or the other.

My nickname growing up was, “The Prince,” and I certainly was. My future wife was having none of that, and I was reminded often of how that was all ending on our wedding day. She loves to tell a story about how, when we were on the phone one day, I was interrupted by my Mom coming to my room to serve me lunch.

I steeled myself for what was to come as best I could. I committed to the ideal of being an equal partner, of losing my beloved privacy as best I could. I succeeded only marginally, in the beginning. If I were grading myself I’d give myself a C. If I were grading myself now, I’d give myself a B.

Sharing the load isn’t so much my problem, as is the notion of being by myself. How do you convince your life partner in a way that does not hurt their feelings that sometimes they need to go away? It’s tough. Cleaning, doing laundry, taking out the garbage, going shopping are all things I never did before, but do now. I certainly don’t love them, but they need to be done. It’s the solitude thing that is a delicate problem.

On another marriage-related topic, being an only child made me scared s—tless at the notion of being a parent. I figured I would become one eventually, because 99.5% of the world seems to do it. It’s the norm. However, I left it to whomever I married to answer that question.

The girl I dated before my wife had visions of a brood dancing in her head, and I assured her I was on board with having kids, but one time, I shit you not dear reader, she started crying at the notion that I’d want to stop at three. Yikes!

P.S. She has four now. In an ideal world, I think I could’ve managed two and that’s it.

The girl I married did not want children, so there was no arm twisting for me. I never gave it a second thought, and I don’t regret it one bit. A wise man once told me that when you’re single you can be 100% selfish, and when you’re married you can still be 50% selfish. When you have children you have to be 100% selfless. I’m not saying you can’t enjoy your own pursuits, but they better take a back seat to those kids.

I’m not entirely comfortable with that 100% selflessness, and it is probably rooted in my only child origins. I accept that. Only children are stereotyped as being selfish and while it’s a far-reaching generalization, I think there’s a kernel of truth in that, at least speaking for myself.

It’s not easy to put others ahead of yourself when others have been doing the very same thing for you your entire life. It’s difficult to suppress your own desires in light of others, and I’m not always successful. In fact, it’s a constant challenge.

My sister-in-law’s comment did offend me though. How am I weird? Am I weirder or more eccentric than someone with siblings? Am I more likely to get divorced because I’m a selfish brat? I’ve seen siblings with truly poisonous relationships and I’ve seen people with siblings behave selfishly on countless occasions. And, just because you have the same parents doesn’t mean you will be close, or alike in any way, shape or form.

My in-laws had my wife and her sister 11 months apart because they thought they should each have a playmate. Today, they barely speak to each other. To be fair, my wife is extremely close to her brother, nearly six years her junior. My point is, anything can happen, and hoping for the best will not make it so.

I’d like to think I see both sides of the coin, despite my obvious bias. I have heard stories of only children who did long for siblings, and while I don’t get it, I acknowledge it. I just don’t think there’s a right and wrong here, or that we’re inherently flawed or damaged as a result of our situation.

Let me say one last time, for the record, I loved every minute of it!