The Lonely Only

Imagine my delight and surprise when, at the supermarket, I stumbled across a Time magazine cover with the title "The Only Child Myth." (click on the link for a truncated, online version of the article) Being the parent of an only child, I was intrigued.

I have to say - reading this article was like finally breathing a sigh of relief. The Only Child Myth - that only children are spoiled and maladjusted - is alive and well today, despite virtually no evidence to support it. Even though the number of families with only children is steadily on the rise, it's still so unusual that people feel free to criticize parents that just stop at one. "I'm just balancing out the average," I joke to people who are dumbfounded that we do not plan to have any more children. "You know - 2.5 is average, so - someone needs to bring the average down," I tell the mother of 4.

According to the article, "The image of the lonely only was the work of one man, Granville Stanley Hall. About 120 years ago, Hall established one of the first American psychology-research labs. But what he is most known for today is supervising the 1896 study "Of Peculiar and Exceptional Children," which described a series of only-child oddballs as permanent misfits. For decades, academics and advice columnists alike disseminated his conclusion that an only child could not be expected to go through life with the same capacity for adjustment that children with siblings possessed." The funny thing is, Hall had virtually no knowledge of how to actually conduct a credible study...yet his teachings were hailed far and wide. Today, plenty of studies have been conducted that have proven that there is no discernible difference - emotionally or intellectually speaking - between "only children" and children with many siblings.

Granted, I am a little concerned about my mother's lament that it is lonely and tough being an only child as your parents age and pass on - she is an only child, and had to care for my grandfather until he passed away a few years ago, then deal with his estate after he passed. She had no brother or sister to lean on, no one to share the grief in the same way when her mother passed away 30 years ago. I worry that when our time comes, Malcolm will wish he had a brother or sister to help carry the grief and the burden of responsibility. However, if there's one thing we have made up for, it's definitely any lack of family. We have taught Malcolm to live as part of a community, to love others, and that relationships with the people around us can create ties as deep as a family's.

And I think that is a lesson he has learned - after all, we're talking about a kid who handed me a 40-person invitation list for his birthday party, only 15 of whom were children. A child who makes no distinction between "mommy and daddy's friends" and "his friends." A child who told me the other day that he "loves everybody in the world."

I am grateful that - G-d willing - "only" is not a word that will be of concern for my child.

Except, that is, when there's "only" one pudding left in the refrigerator.

How Fred the Lion Made Me a Better Mom

As usually happens, I've gotten behind in my posting. It seems to be a continual issue for me - I just can't seem to balance work/home/writing with much ease. I tend to be a workaholic, and so when I get caught up at work, everything else falls by the wayside.

So here we are, the first week in July, and I'm attempting - again - to reinvigorate my posting. Because I'm currently nursing a not-fun toothache and can't think very straight, I am copping out by posting something I wrote a few months ago. Partially because I would like your input.

As I work to make some progress - any progress! - on my books, I have decided to try to write some articles to "get my name out there." (Yes, indeed I said "books," as I have split my thoughts into two books, because I'm just THAT big a glutton for punishment.) I don't really know how to market myself, or draw attention to a blog, or try to get any sort of following that might help me get published. So, I thought that perhaps submitting some articles to magazines and, hopefully, getting published that way might be a good beginning.

So, that said, I would very much appreciate your feedback on the following - an article I would like to submit to some "parenting magazines" for publication. Please let me know what you think!

Imaginary friends are a fundamental part of childhood. My son, Malcolm, has had many - including his right hand, who he has named...well, "Hand." Don't fret over my son's lack of imagination in picking a name. After all, we discovered one day that Hand has a twin brother (naturally), whose name is BobRocketGeorge. Hand and BobRocketGeorge have provided hours of entertainment, but my very favorite of Malcolm's imaginary friends was Fred the Lion.

Around the time that Fred joined our family, I was struggling with my role as a mother. I was a very task-oriented person, and would get caught up in things like work and laundry and dishes, and not focus on the important things - like spending time with family. I recognized this as a detriment, but was struggling to overcome it. The difficulty in this was a pretty basic road block: Malcolm's interests were fairly typical for a 4 year old boy: cars, trains, Star Wars. I couldn't have been LESS interested in these things. We connected over Disney movies and the Zoo, but you can only go do those activities so many times. I needed to find a way to engage my son on a regular basis.

For a lot of moms, this probably seems like a no-brainer. Many moms I know simply have that "mom-gene" imbedded from the moment of conception, and they know how to figure these things out. But I felt like I had missed out on that gene. I was feeling like a whopping failure of a Mom - someone who couldn't stay in the moment with her own child, without thoughts wandering to the crisis at work that day or the pile of laundry waiting to be folded. I could never quite live in the moment, and appreciate my son for who he is, and who we are together.

Until Fred.

Malcolm "discovered" Fred one day while in the bathroom. When Malcolm excitedly reported he had spotted a lion in the sink, I saw an opportunity, and responded with great enthusiasm. "REALLY!?!" I responded with the appropriate amount of wonder and awe. Malcolm peered up at me, a mixture of excitement and a bit of confusion on his face. I pushed past the deep pain that bubbled up upon recognition that my son was surprised at me being engaged, and plodded forward with all kinds of questions about who Fred was and how he got there. Turns out Fred is a lion who lives in our pipes and follows Malcolm around whenever he can - but he can't climb out of the sink, because he's too big to get out of the holes. So, basically, we can only see Fred in sinks and bathtubs, basically relegating him to a morning and nighttime ritual of greeting.

In the days following Fred's arrival, I continued to be excited about our new found friend, encouraging Malcolm to say good night to Fred every night, asking him questions about Fred...I was so excited to connect with Malcolm in such a fun way. After Malcolm was done brushing his teeth at night, he would pour a little water down the sink for Fred to drink, and encourage me to do the same. (I had to draw the line at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.)

One day, we were at the book store, and an idea struck me.

"Malcolm!" I exclaimed. "Why don't we see if we can find Fred?"

His eyes brightened. "Yeah!"

So we run toward the bathroom, and as we were passing the water fountains, he peers in. "Nope," he keeps saying, matter-of-factly, until he's checked every water fountain and sink. "He must be sleeping." Well, that never occurred to me. I guess Fred does need to sleep.

As we were walking back by the water fountain, Malcolm exclaims, "THERE he is! He's awake now!" His whole body is lit up with excitement.

"Hi Fred!" I wave happily. Malcolm beams and tells me that Fred says "hi" back. We exchange pleasantries with the Great Lion of the Pipes, then return to our shopping.

This is such a simple thing that is probably second nature for many mothers. But for me, this was a revelation. I had been so caught up in the demands of modern life that I had forgotten how to be a mother to my child.

Moving forward, I knew I had to do something to retain our connection. I started to purposefully pursue activities we could both enjoy; because, to be honest, I knew I would not keep up a habit of playing trains or Star Wars. We started with coloring - a task I had to force myself to do at first, but now I find it strangely calming. So we colored, played games, and sometimes, we just talked. Just like many other things, Fred is something forgotten over time, but my connection with Malcolm remains, stronger than ever. We still do puzzles and doodle and color, have Nerf gun battles and go for walks in the park. I even play some Star Wars games with him - they're surprisingly fun!

The last time we saw Fred the Lion was at the beach in Orlando. I was extremely impressed that he had navigated the pipes all the way there, but Malcolm explained that he had learned in "Finding Nemo" that all pipes lead to the ocean - so naturally, it was no great difficulty for Fred to join us on vacation. Even though Fred is gone, I will forever be grateful to the Great Lion of the Pipes for teaching me about the wonders of childhood, and giving me a deeper connection with my son.