Joys and pains of being the only child

Joys and pains of being the only child

For the first ten years of my life I was an only child. This was in the ’70s, when most families had multiple kids. But ‘moderns’ like my parents, stuck with what my dad used to call the ‘one and only’. It was considered a cool thing to do; a sure way to guarantee that the kid would get the best of everything. My parents grew up in overpopulated families, with little attention and fewer possessions. They chose to have just one child, to make it the epicentre of their lives. I didn’t get that of course. I just knew that when my ‘siblinged’ friends went home, they took with them a companion — and the possibility of continued playing. I was stuck in a house full of adults and older cousins, who were wonderful, but well, older. In class 1, writing an essay on ‘Myself’, I counted all my cousins on my fingers and wrote, ‘I have 9 sisters and 3 brothers’. When my mother read it, she hooted with laughter and said, “What must your teacher think of me!!” It was obviously not cool to resemble a human rabbit farm if you were a progressive parent in the ’70s. With time, the fantasy grew desperate. In class 2, I lied to my pregnant teacher that my mum had a baby in her tummy too. The next parent-teacher-meeting led to more laughter. Kids simply love the company of peers. They hate their friends at times, they fight, but given a choice, kids will pick other kids over adults any day. By the time my mum finally ‘had an accident’, I was a grand old 9, and really quite happy on my own. I adored my little brother and devised games to amuse him, but somehow, with that sort of an age-gap, it’s never a relationship of equality and doesn’t entail the sort of companionship that closer-age sibs have. Though, even at that late stage, having a brother certainly enriched my life. The wonderful thing about having siblings is that you stop being the centre of your parents’ universe, the singular focus of their love, attention and obsession. And that, for me, is key to being a well-adjusted person. Ideally, I’d have had baby no. 2 by the time that baby no. 1 was 4 years old. I’d have a house full of fights and laughter, I wouldn’t need to obsessively hunt for company for my kid, and I’d be wretchedly tired. Thanks to various health issues, though, that couldn’t be. Though I miss having two kids, I know that I had as many kids as I could manage to raise, while still staying healthy myself. I’m aware of how much my kid misses out on since she doesn’t have a sibling. But I also know that it’s up to us to bring up our kids to be decent, secure and happy people, no matter what the sizes of our families. After all, kids with siblings can be miserable; only children can be unspoilt; and both kinds of kids could grow up to be rotten or wonderful. However, only kids do have the luxury of having a lot. It’s important to curb your desire to overbuy, to encourage them to share; to teach them to value friendships; to encourage responsibility and independence. Only children are also super-sensitive to adult aspirations. This awareness is lower in multiple-child families, where attention is diffused. So try not to pass on those I-wanted-to-be-a-pianist-and-I’ll-make-you-one-or-die-trying vibes. If you’re in a nuclear family, try to bring more people – and their kids – into your life. Ensure that your kid has plenty of peers, friendships and extended family. Have a lunch for moms with same-age kids. If you’re lucky, you’ll find a family-with-kids to go on trips and to grow childhood bonds with. That’s really having the best of both worlds – your kids have company, and you have only one set of toys, books, clothes, homework and illnesses to deal with.