ON BEING AN ONLY CHILD

I grew up as an only child.   Not only was I an only child, but I was the oldest grandson on my mother’s side of the family by seven years and youngest on my father’s side of the family by nearly 4 years.  I didn’t really have a lot of childhood friends, either.   I spent afternoons after school mostly with my paternal grandfather.  During the summer I spent time staying with both sets of grandparents and my great grandmother.   So, to me, it was quite normal to be in my own little world, playing alone.  

By all accounts, I was a good kid, I didn’t often get in trouble, because I didn’t often do anything wrong. My lack of siblings and playmates my own age, I suppose, seemed completely normal to me.   I never went to other kids’ houses, so I didn’t know what their home lives were like.   All I knew is that I didn’t have any siblings, and no matter how much I begged, that a sibling was not happening. 

When I went off to college, I interacted more closely with friends who had siblings and close-knit families.   If I’m being completely honest, it was a foreign concept to me.   I first of all couldn’t understand why my friends would want to go home and spend time with their parents, and secondly, I didn’t understand the bond that siblings (generally) have.  Throughout the course of my college years and beyond, I think I have gained some amazing friends who are very much like siblings to me.  

I think there is a general misconception of “the only child”.   Speaking completely from my own experience, the only child doesn’t get everything they want.   My parents by and large had no problems telling me “no”.   I didn’t have the finest clothes, I didn’t get a brand new car when I started driving—I didn’t even get to take my driver license until about 3 months after my 16^th birthday.   While I’m on the subject of my 16^th birthday—it was a completely normal day.  The only thing I asked for was a cake from Kroger (grocery store, butter cream icing and possibly a cartoon character or something decorating it.   What I got instead was a Pineapple Upside Down Cake because that’s my mother’s special cake.   It was still disappointing because I only wanted a cake from Kroger for Christ’s sake!  I distinctly recall a “heart to heart” with my father about how I would eat the Pineapple Upside Down Cake, and I would enjoy it.   And so it was.

Here’s my confession:  My childhood was generally one spent playing alone, left to my imagination in our fenced back yard as a kid, I do recall playing with toy cars and construction equipment.   I suppose it was not a bad childhood, but looking back, I think it would be completely safe to say that it was less than ideal.   Now, as I am getting older, and while my parents are still relatively young to have an almost-forty year old son,  (My mother is 59 and my father is 62) there are more moments than not that I wish I had a brother or sister, someone who could possibly understand my parents, and, well, yes, someone to pawn off the responsibility of taking care of them when they get older. 

While the likelihood of my having children is slim to none, I would do my very best to plan on having two children, mainly so they kids could have a full experience of childhood.

I don’t think I have any major regrets, but I do often wonder “what if”?