Auntie. Protector. Healer
What My Nephews Taught Me About Being Enough
Every summer, my dad hosts a summer camp for kids in our community from grades 5-8th. It’s sponsored through his JROTC program, and he’s been hosting it since before I was old enough to join.
For the past two years, my three nephews (from two different siblings) have attended the camp and stayed at our house for the two weeks. It’s always alot having a house full of people, especially three boys, but I always look forward to spending time with them.
Last year, I was on my rich auntie, and I went all out for their stay. I bought them water bottles, toys to play with at home, superhero-themed bedsheets, and tons of snacks.
This year, I was on my “on a budget” auntie and decided to find other ways to connect with them. We always had dinner together, where I asked them about their days and what they did at camp. My nephews are 12, 10, and 9 years old and are all on different intellectual levels.
Several times I had to explain to the oldest two that, to give everyone the same advantages for success, making accommodations for people’s needs was equitable and just. Even if it meant choosing a game that everyone could play at an enjoyable level without feeling left behind.
My oldest nephew (12 years old) told me he only wanted equality (different than equity) when it came to genders and pay. Everything else was survival of the fittest. He kept using an example of runners being disqualified if they moved within a tenth of a second after the starting gun went off, because it wasn’t humanly possible.
“Basically they’re punishing them for being better than everyone else.”
The oldest has already skipped a few grades and has his eyes set on being an engineer. The second oldest, his brother, a ten-year-old, is the most chill kid I’ve ever met. One who’d rather be home in the AC than at a water park. The youngest, 9 years old, their cousin, was diagnosed with ADHD and high-functioning autism. He can be a bit of a handful at times, but I’ve learned how he calms down and focuses.
He’s at that age when he’s begun to notice the way people react to him, and he’s found his own way to survive in the world. My brother, his dad, is the most gentle, caring, and patient father I’ve ever seen. He wants his son to be his authentic self, but he knows how the world will judge him.
I used to think I didn’t have enough patience for kids. They always seemed to want something from their mothers, and I watched as they scrambled for a second of peace. But with my nephews, I wasn’t straining for patience. I was entertained by how and what they thought of the world. These little boys had such a different life from their parents and me.
One day at work, my dad called me and told me the youngest might be sent home. He said he had been super emotional and being babied by his flight commander. I could tell my dad was fighting the urge to tell him to man up.
This completely caught me off guard. The speed at which my dad was willing to toss away his grandson because he was emotional sent a wave of anxiety through my spirit. His grandson, who’s in a different state from his parents and little brother, around new people, and participating in sports he wasn’t good at.
I urged my dad to take a beat and put himself in the boy’s shoes. Talk to him and see what’s really going on. I could already imagine the heartbreak he would feel if his grandfather sent him home for having emotions. Even if my dad wasn’t serious about it, the damage would be done.
I was transported back in time to when I was a kid pleading for a break from basketball practice because my throat was on fire, my asthma acting up, and I couldn’t breathe.
My dad would say, “suck it up, you’re alright.” Sometimes I would be, and sometimes I wouldn’t. The fact that he either didn’t believe me or didn’t care that I was in pain and panic made me feel weak, and like I had to push past my own limits to be as strong as he wanted me to be. It took me a long time to realize we all have different versions of strong.
Luckily, my dad took my advice and sat down with my nephew to get to the bottom of it. Turns out he was sad because he wasn’t familiar with the sports they were playing at camp and felt like he was letting his team down. My dad assured him that as long as he tried his best, it would be enough. He gave him a long, big hug and sent him back to his team feeling more confident.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Happy I helped my dad avoid inflicting unintentional trauma and pain onto his grandson, and discontinuing the cycle of feeling unworthy because of expectations not fit for us.
On the last night of their stay, my nephews wanted to play a game with me, and I was touched. Unfortunately, my parents didn’t have any child-level games, so the boys ended up wrestling and running around while I made sure no one got hurt.
I watched in awe at these little boys who were once little babies I fed, bathed, changed, and adored. I see so much of their parents in them; it’s scary sometimes. I was so proud to be in their presence and to be a part of the memories they’d have of summer at their grandparents’ house with their cousins and auntie.
I felt a strong urge to protect them as much as possible, not only from the world but from themselves. I gathered them in a group hug and promised they would always be able to come to me if needed. They could always tell me what they were afraid to tell anyone else and I’d always help them get through it. If anyone ever touched them or hurt them, they could always come to me to take care of it. And I meant every single word. I don’t have my own kids and I may never, but I felt a surge of maternal energy coursing through my veins, and I knew these were my babies to protect.
As we began to pack up their clothes and belongings, I noticed the youngest one’s toothbrush was at the bottom of his duffle bag. Why would it be there and not in the bathroom with his cousins? I pulled him aside and asked him if he had been brushing his teeth in the morning. In front of his cousins and my dad, he was embarrassed to answer. When it was clear that he had not been brushing his teeth, my dad began to laugh, and so did my oldest nephew.
I felt the youngest instantly close up and shrink inside himself. I was once again transported to being a little girl and laughed at by my parents and other family whenever I made a mistake or did something strange. The same thing happened to my younger cousin. I remember the feeling of shrinking down to the size of an ant while the adults towered over me and laughed at my failure.
I quickly looked at my dad and said, “No, we’re not laughing at this”, shutting it down. I pulled my nephew into another room and asked him about his toothbrush. I wasn’t mad at him or disappointed; I just wanted to understand him.
Every morning my dad would wake the boys up, send them to the bathroom, make them breakfast, and take them with him to camp. He never made sure the boys actually brushed their teeth.
The youngest had an issue brushing his teeth before eating breakfast. He didn’t like the lingering taste of toothpaste mixed with his breakfast, plus it felt counterproductive to eat after brushing his teeth. He rarely had time to run upstairs and brush his teeth before they left, so he opted out of brushing altogether.
I understood his issue. It made sense to brush your teeth after you had breakfast. My solution was for him to use the first-floor bathroom to brush his teeth after he ate. I told him I’d put his toothbrush in the bathroom that night so in the morning it would be waiting for him after breakfast.
He was so excited about this. As if he didn’t know I wielded that kind of power. He hugged me tight and said, “I love you”. My heart might have overflowed with love and joy in that moment.
It wasn’t the automatic “love you” that kids give you because it’s customary. It was genuine and heartfelt. He loved me because I saw his needs and helped him fulfill them. I didn’t force him to abide by old rules or traditions that didn’t fit him. I wished I had noticed it sooner, but this moment was worth it for him to know I cared.
As I wrote about this in my journal that night, I cried for my younger self that was never afforded such accommodations when the standard ways didn’t fit me. I cried for my younger self who felt extra, attention-seeking, and too much for the people around her who claimed to love her as she was. I healed that still-hurt part of me by making sure my nephew knew I truly loved him and I saw him as he was.
Two weeks with three young boys was a lot, and the best birth control money could buy. But in the end, I achieved my mission of being an auntie they could rely on to be there for them, love them, defend them, and accept them as they are.
Get to know the author: MaryLanae Linen
MaryLanae Linen, the girl who keeps on trying, is also the woman of many talents, embodying the essence of her ancestors wherever she goes. Her writing comes straight from the heart, which can sometimes make it difficult to express fully, but it is authentic and genuine. She hopes her work, stories, and art will foster understanding, relatability, curiosity, and thought-provoking questions for her audience. MaryLanae is always open to collaboration and conversation with like-minded individuals, so please feel free to reach out or comment on her recent posts and essays. If you’ve made it this far, thank you for making it this far. Let’s continue to support each other in our journeys!