Revised Version: My Bit

I have a small confession to make. It has to do with changes, specifically changes within the last year. Don’t get your hopes up; it’s has nothing to do with a juicy, dramatic love account, but rather with two little girls who happen to be my nieces.

Exactly one year ago, I wrote a slightly pointed poem in which I vented my continual frustration to their pestering. The poem was modeled after Shel Silverstein’s work, complete with an illustration, as you can see to the right. (Now you can tell why I’m not an art major ;) If I remember properly, the poem ended with them tripping over the crack in the road… and let’s just say I didn’t have to worry about them anymore… Terrible, right? Needless to say it was not at all politically correct, and you can probably understand why it could have been interpreted to be quite offensive.

But it was not without good reason that I had so much pent up frustration. It stemmed from the fact that for years I would get the heavy responsibility of entertaining them at events we would go to together, and seeing as we’re family, there were not many events I went to without them. A year ago they would have been eight and nine years old, and were used to being catered to. Consequently, they whined relentlessly. I absolutely can’t tolerate that kind of behavior from any child, let alone one that I care about. But because I have always been just the fleeting aunt, I was not in a place where I could correct them gracefully, and so I just smiled and waved. I loved them, but honestly, I couldn’t stand them.

However, sometime in the past year, something changed. I’m sure it had to do with my growing up a lot, and their maturity increasing as well.

Today, for the second Sunday in a row, my family and theirs went out to eat at the delicious and highly filling Logan’s Steakhouse, and for the second Sunday in a row, I’ve enjoyed these two little girls! They seem to have developed their own personalities, and are completely different people than I remember. The ten year old is very ladylike and never speaks anything controversial, while the nine year old is much more candid. They are the perfect sisterly combination, and both dote upon my very existence as something marvelous in itself. Why is beyond me.

Analyzing them now and the hesitations that they have towards advancing adolescence makes me realize how similar we womenfolk really are! When I was their age(wow, that makes me feel old), I felt like an outsider in most settings in which I was placed and was shy about life in general. I looked at the older girls that I was around as some sort of gods that represented everything I wanted to be. I copied their hairstyles miserably, and appeared as every other ten year old does: awkward, stuck somewhere between baby face and teen.

Side note: At this time in my life, there was one particular girl whom I adored. I saw her maybe twice a year and treasured my time with her dearly. The sad part was that she did not reciprocate the love. She pushed my away, which only made me more desperate for her attention. In short, it did not end with me having very fond memories of her.

There was some good that came out of that though. I learned by example what not to do to these little girls who now look up to and model me. I would never want them to look back on me as the girl who didn’t want them around in the first place and could care less if they came back. Rather, I want to be the one that befriends them for life. They’re my nieces for goodness sake! They’re going to be around forever, so I might as well love them. It makes life so much easier that way. Besides, who doesn’t want devoted followers?

So now that I’ve made my confession, I have to tell you a short story that made me love these girls all the more:

They asked me towards the end of the meal if I would take them to the bathroom. Of course, I would. We get there, we separate into individual stalls. Silence, right? Ha. Noooo… the farthest thing from it. I might be old fashioned, but personally I find it extremely rude to be talking during such private times, but again, that’s just me.

“K?????” I heard from the stall next to me. It was J, the younger of the two’s voice.

“Yes?” I responded to my name, hoping that her next statement would not include the word “help.”

“How many more days until my mom get’s home?”

Okay, so my older sister is in California having brain surgery. It’s a sensitive issue, and not at all what I was expecting, but I responded instantaneously, “Eight, Hun.”

The next thing I know I see these pudgy little fingers coming under the door! What the heck? I’m peeing here!

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. Hey! You’re right! (Giggle, giggle.)”

I couldn’t help but giggle myself! It was one of those Whoopi Goldberg’s Is it Just Me? moments. You just shake your head and laugh along.

And so I have officially taken on two more people to love and give attention to. Love you, Quys!