The Joy of Raising an Only Child: A Gift from Me to My Little One

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For over a year, my childhood evenings often unfolded in a chaotic symphony. With six siblings in the house, gaining attention felt like an Olympic sport. Whether it was good grades, wild antics, or even a visit from the local authorities, I learned early on that I had to make my mark. My sister once spilled milk; my moment of fame came courtesy of the cops showing up at my sister’s wedding rehearsal. But really—who’s counting?

Growing up in a large family was a blend of empowerment and degradation. You quickly learned to fend for yourself; after all, no one was there to pick up your slack. Mastering the washing machine, pouring your own cereal, or bribing older siblings for rides became essential survival skills. This experience shaped me, but it also solidified my determination to raise my firstborn as an only child. Here’s why I made that choice, inspired by my own upbringing.

My Childhood

Every Friday, my mother would forget to pick up my sister and me after swimming class, leaving us stranded at school with nuns serving warm Diet Coke and brownies. We’d wait, phones ringing endlessly as our home was a chaos of teenage shenanigans. Eventually, one of us would break through to let her know we were still there. How could she possibly forget her two youngest kids? Maybe it was because she called me “Whoever You Are” after running through all my siblings’ names. To be fair, she was pregnant for a decade straight, so “Pregnancy Brain” was likely a permanent condition.

My Child’s Life

In contrast, I ensure my daughter is always ready for adventure. We arrive five minutes early everywhere, snacks and water at the ready. She’ll never have to wait in a convent for her ride home, especially not for warm Diet Coke!

My Childhood

Flying for the first time at 14 felt exotic enough, and trips to Disney World were merely dreams. My dad’s go-to line was, “As long as I’m paying for six private school tuitions, you won’t be meeting Mickey Mouse anytime soon.”

My Child’s Life

Now, my 4-year-old has already visited Mexico (twice), Italy (twice), and even Australia. She holds an annual pass to Disneyland. If I had a second child, I’d be drowning in summer furniture rentals instead of vacationing.

My Childhood

Nilla Wafers were a rare treat. My mom bought a box every Sunday, and it would vanish within 20 minutes, leaving us with no treats for the rest of the week.

My Child’s Life

My daughter and I discuss ice cream or cupcakes every Wednesday after school. She’ll never need to scavenge through my purse for a crumb of sugar like I had to.

My Childhood

Bedtime meant a dose of Dimetapp from my mom—grape-flavored liquid sleep aid distributed from the countertop. We accepted it because it tasted good and the Nilla Wafers had long been consumed.

My Child’s Life

While I may exaggerate my child’s cough on international flights for a dose of Benadryl, we don’t resort to drugging her for sleep. I can’t knock my mom’s resourcefulness, but I’ll keep the medicinal cocktails at bay.

My Childhood

Parental involvement in school activities? Forget it. My parents were too exhausted. I don’t blame them, but I’m committed to being present for my child’s endeavors.

My Child’s Life

I’m overly involved, and while my daughter might roll her eyes at my enthusiasm, she’ll know I care. I take pride in being a more engaged parent than my own.

My Childhood

Quiet moments were rare amidst the chaos. It took me years to realize how much I cherished peace and solitude, especially as I discovered my own claustrophobia.

My Child’s Life

I take her to spend time with her 11 cousins during breaks, allowing her to experience the joy of a big family without the overwhelming chaos I grew up in. If I had more than one child, I’d be drowning in the very noise I thought I loved.

Summary

My upbringing was filled with love, companionship, and chaos. While I wouldn’t trade my experiences for anything, I’m grateful for the choices we’ve made as a family. We live in Los Angeles, travel often, and provide my daughter with opportunities I never dreamed of. In about 20 years, I can almost picture her writing a book titled “How My Parents Ruined My Life by Making Me an Only Child.” Stay tuned; it’s bound to be a bestseller.

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