Hirpped Off

It was 1991, and three days after I turned 15, I became an uncle for the first time. For me this was the absolute coolest thing in the world. We had moved to KC just two years before, and my sister was still living in Connecticut. So I didn’t get to see baby Courtney till I went back east for Christmas break. Till then, I had always enjoyed the rare occasions where I was the “big” kid, although it really meant just being the older kid. But I still had never really been around babies.

I remember the first time I saw her and got the chance to hold her. Such a little thing with these big blue eyes, and she kept smiling at me. It’s not like that moment totally changed everything I was doing, because I wasn’t “that” 15 year old. But I knew from that moment on, that everything I did had more meaning. I could be a cool uncle, I could be a good role model, I could be a good example. Now, chances are I wasn’t going to drink or do that stupid shit in high school, having grown up with a sister with a substance abuse problem, but holding Courtney made it a certainty.

The age difference was pretty much perfect, I was young enough that she’d find me cool, but old enough that I didn’t just think she’d help me pick up girls. In the future, she tried to help me, but that was her own doing. But she gave everything in my life a purpose, the one thing every 15 year old really wants. When I got back from Connecticut, I bragged about her to my friends, who had no interest in hearing about a baby. A year and a half later her brother was born, and then my sister married their father.

Yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m 17 and my sister is moving to Kansas with her two kids, and they’re going to live with us. The next best thing to happen during my teenage years.(after their births, of course) The first night they stayed with us, I slept on the floor in their room. I didn’t have to wait till I was all grown up, married with a new baby to learn; there’s no better nap, than a nap with a baby on your chest. You couldn’t learn that in school. Rather than coming home from school and calling friends, I was coming home to play with the kids. Soon, every morning I woke up in my twin bed I had one, or sometimes both, of the kids crammed in there with me.

When my niece and nephew were a little older, and had moved out, I would alternate taking one of them out every week. It was as much for me as it was for them, as it was always a great way to keep things in perspective. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a degree, or how much money I had, or what kind of car I drove, my grades didn’t disappoint them. All I had to do was play with them, or just spend time with them. And often tell them, “No, we can’t listen to that CD because there are some not so nice words. No, not that CD either, okay, let’s listen to the radio.”

Yadda, yadda, yadda, I am in my late 20’s. Things have changed. My sister now has four kids, and none of them live with her. Things will never be the same. I made an effort at first, tried to maintain contact, but then life caught up to us. Court was a teenager, even though I think she hit 16 on her 6th birthday, now all her friends had caught up to her. The kids were (rightfully) angry, angry at my sister, my parents and at me. I think I was as angry at myself, if not more so, because I wasn’t able to come to the rescue like I had always promised them. I was immature, living in a small apartment and barely responsible enough to pay all my bills.

Now I’m 32, I’m married with a kyd and my niece is moving to Phoenix in less than a month. She’s 17 now, and I’ve missed out on her entire high school career. I haven’t been able to get to know her boyfriends, and let them know how difficult I can make their lives if they hurt her. I wasn’t able to be there for her Sweet 16, and I didn’t get to tell her I was getting married. The Kyd hasn’t been able to spend time with her, other than meeting her once, and she’d be nuts about her big cousin. She won’t get to ask her big cousin about makeup, or (I’m throwing up in my mouth as I type it) boys. It’s cool that she has other cousins, and she won’t miss out completely on those moments. But she won’t get to hear stories about me from the cousins she won’t get to know. And when she’s pissed at me, they won’t tell her that I’m really not that bad.

And my niece won’t get to know my wife, or (most depressingly) see how a man who loves his wife, is supposed to treat her. They won’t make fun of a shirt I’m wearing, or roll their eyes together at my lame jokes. We won’t get to sit in the stands when she graduates high school, or stop by her dorm room to take her to dinner (and threaten her boyfriend some more). So my hearts a tad bit shattered today. She won’t have anything to do with me.

I have friends in Phoenix, who have two young kids, I could arrange for some babysitting gigs. If this was “normal” and it was just some family moving to another city, she’d already have a way to earn some extra cash and get out of the house, away from her nagging parents. She’d be just a drive away from her grandparents, who could take her shopping and bore her to death with classical music.

And of course, I’m upset about not having any kind of relationship with the other three kids. But they aren’t moving to Phoenix, so there’s a better chance that with time, we can reconnect. And frankly, they weren’t first. Although I love them with all my heart, they weren’t the first kids to call me “uncle” or learn how much of a pushover I am.