Only Children Are People Too

Parenting advice from a mom of one (cat)

Recently, a number of friends birthed/conceived their first kids, and, with the economy and whatnot, possibly their last. More than once, a friend with a toddler has come to me to ask, “we don’t think we’re going to have another but we both grew up in big families…is having just one…okay?” As if I am, merely by being a sibling-less adult, uniquely qualified to permit them to create more sibling-less people. Do I give them advice? Look at the name of this newsletter! Of course I do! In the interest of preserving and sharing my sage wisdom, here are all my gorgeous shiny thoughts on the matter.

I did not love being an only child. I wanted a playmate, preferably a sister, ideally a twin. I’ve always thought that if I ever met Me, we would get along great.

In the absence of a biological sibling, I tried desperately to recruit a spiritual one. I formed fierce attachments to the daughters of the women my dad dated and was devastated whenever they split. I developed needy, possessive friendships with girls at school, and it broke my heart when they inevitably took a little distance. Did a teacher tell me to knock it off? Yes. Did I learn that lesson? Eventually.

When I finally got step-siblings, they came in a quartet, and were older; we didn’t grow up together. Wonderful people I love very much, but even as a kid I understood that when you’re already one of four, you’re not exactly eager to add a small, chatty fifth. Totally fair.

In elementary and middle school, I was so envious of the girls who had older sisters, who provided they had cheat codes to life. Hand-me-down uniforms, teachers who already knew their families, parents who had been through the high school application process. Not to mention access to information about boys and fashion and cool music that only older girls could provide. But after one sibling, I sensed diminishing returns.

Thanks to my step-siblings, and a few three-kid families I was close with, I got to look at the Big Family up close, and what I saw was competition. Siblings were pitted against one another in sports, took board games way too seriously and fought over like toys and computer time.

So here’s where the biggest myth-busting comes in: I maintain that only children are actually better at sharing. We do it without resentment. When friends came over, I had an attitude of “what’s mine is yours,” because once they left, I’d get to use all my stuff as much as I wanted. If I was spoiled, I also chill.

Not so in big families. To this day, my step-dad, who also grew up one of four, considers the groceries that he buys and puts in the fridge to be “his.” We’re supposed to ask if we want to take something — to his credit, he pretty much always lets us. This baffles my mom and me. The fridge is for the whole family, duh? But kids with a lot of siblings sometimes develop a “scarcity mindset,” and find it comforting to insist, in adulthood, that their stuff not get moved, touched, taken. I know of at least one other parent who was weird about snacks this way.

I, on the other hand, once had a boyfriend comment that I was basically pathological about always offering him a bite of whatever I was having. I think his exact words were “stop trying to get me to eat your food.” It wasn’t only largesse; I still have that instinct of, I want someone to sit with me at lunch! I’ll give you half my sandwich to keep me company!

The scarcest and most precious resources, of course, are love and attention. Honestly, I can’t think of any downsides to having my parents all to myself. Maybe I’m coddled and soft, but I also wake up every day knowing that there are two people in the world who love me more than anything else ever. Take that, confidence issues! (LOL JK I still have those don’t worry.)

It also made me more mature, for better and worse. There was no special meal for the kids in our house; I ate what the adults were eating. We watched the movies and shows the adults were watching; I saw Friends as it aired. Out in the world, adults found me pleasant and a little precocious. And I found immature antics by my peers mind-bogglingly annoying. Why are you making that weird sound and why do you think it’s so funny? Why is your mom yelling at you to get your shoes on? Just put your shoes on when it’s time to go. Like a grown-up!

Slowly, others are coming around to my way of thinking. A common TikTok meme is the pressure and anxiety of being “the oldest daughter.” In the first season of Girl5Eva, Dawn frets that in depriving her son of a sibling, she will turn him into a “New York Lonely Boy,” AKA a weirdo. By the end of the episode, she realizes that they’re not weirdos but precious oddballs. (spoiler: in the second season, Dawn gets pregnant, and her new anxiety is having a baby at 40.)

And let us not forget that God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son. His only begotten son. You think you need more kids than God?

All that said, when I have kids, tbqh, I want three. And ideally my husband will have one — exactly one — cool sister so she can be my sister, too. But it’s hard to explain all that on a dating app profile.

So…what’s the answer? If you have just one kid, be prepared and willing to host more sleepovers, set up more playdates, and do kid stuff more often. Otherwise, it’s honestly out of your control. My old boss, who was certain that she wanted, at most, one kid only, if that… is currently pregnant with twins. Make a plan, God laughs, etc. But I can promise that no, being an only child won’t screw your kid up. They’ll be screwed up for lots of other reasons.

The one and only,

Lizzie