no kids at Christmas

Being an aunt is not the same, but it’s pretty darned good

Sue Fagalde Lick aunts, childless aunts, helping parents at Christmas, Melanie Notkin, no kids at Christmas , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Illustrating the fun aunts can have with nieces and nephews. Photo shows a little girl riding piggyback on a woman's shoulders in a park. Both wear pale blue jeans and pink jackets.

You know how people get to talking about their kids and we have nothing to say because we don’t have any? Being an aunt or uncle can get you into the conversation with more fun and less angst. 

I suppose it’s like being grandparents, except you’re still young enough to be fun. 

I spent Thanksgiving with great-nieces and nephews who gave me plenty to talk about. Especially the oldest one. R. and I dressed for Thanksgiving dinner together, exchanging fashion tips. We played games. I was a customer at her pretend restaurant and a student in her pretend school. I let her try my guitar, and I listened to the song she made up. I was not the one telling her to brush her teeth, get dressed, or quiet down. We exchanged confidences and terrific hugs. Last summer, we were the ones who went swimming together while the grownups watched. I’m not ready to be one of the grownups. I’m the aunt. A long-distance one who doesn’t get to see them often enough, but an aunt nonetheless.

This trip, the younger kids were so busy playing with each other it was hard to get their attention, but still I could love and admire them and be amazed at all they had learned since the last time I saw them. I could brag about them. And soon I will go Christmas shopping for them because these kids give me a place in the world of children that I would otherwise miss.

When people talk about their grandchildren, I can talk about the nieces and nephews instead of just reverting to my own childhood or talking about dogs and cats. It feels good.

I told my brother how lucky he was to have this beautiful family. Bless his heart, he said, “Well, you’re part of it.”  

We are not all lucky enough to have siblings and nieces and nephews, biological or honorary. Sometimes being around other people’s kids painfully reminds us of the children we will never have. We may also feel awkward because we don’t have experience with young people unless we work with them as teachers, coaches or caregivers. It’s easier to avoid them, along with the adults who ask why, if you like kids so much, aren’t you having any?

You may not be able to relate to kids at this point in your childless life. The wound is too tender. Or maybe they just drive you nuts with their noise and unleashed energy. On my trip, I saw a family with three boys and a girl who jumped out of their car like they were shot out of a canon. As they headed into Applebee’s for lunch, I thought thank God I don’t have to deal with that. 

As the aunt, I can give them all a big hug and go off on my free adult way. But as they grow, they will become real people I can talk to and love and brag about as part of my family. Maybe they’ll even help me when I get old. Maybe not, but it’s possible. 

If you don’t have any siblings with children, it’s still possible to be an honorary aunt to your friends’ kids. You just have to show up with arms ready for hugging, ears ready for listening, and a heart ready to play. For the parents, you can be an extra set of hands, respite when they need a break, backup they can count on. 

If you’re not up to it, that’s okay. But if you are, grab the chance.  

Have you heard of The Savvy Auntie? Back in 2009, Melanie Notkin started an organization called The Savvy Auntie that has blossomed into books, blogs, merchandise, and all kinds of support for women without kids who embrace their aunt status. Check it out at SavvyAuntie.com.

Aunthood (and unclehood) is what you make it. You can have a close relationship, none at all, or something in-between. But at least it gives you something to talk about when people are going on about their children and grandchildren or when you’re Christmas shopping and want an excuse to hang out in the toy department. 

In literature, as in real life, there are good aunts and bad aunts (ditto for uncles). Auntie Em in “The Wizard of Oz” was nice enough. Who wouldn’t love Aunt Bea from the old “Andy Griffith Show?” But the aunt in Anne of Green Gables? She was mean. Let’s hope we’re the good kind, the aunts who love their nieces and nephews and can match any proud grandma’s stories with stories of their own. 

Further reading

Great Aunts of Literature | Book Riot

Aunts and Uncles in Literature: The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Evil

How about you? Are you an aunt or uncle? Do you enjoy it? Why or why not? I look forward to your comments. 

Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels.com

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I will be participating in another Childless Elderwomen’s chat on Zoom on Sunday, Dec. 15, at noon Pacific time. Our topic is solo aging, and we have a bang-up panel of women you will love. If you register here, you can join us live or receive the recording afterward. This is a webinar, so you will not be seen or heard on screen.

I highly recommend Jody Day’s Substack post “The 3am bag lady blues.” She addresses that fear of growing old alone that many of us share.

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Are you hurting during the holidays?

Sue Fagalde Lick alone at Christmas, childless grief, crying by the Christmas tree, Hallmark holidays, hurting during the holidays, no kids at Christmas, surviving the holidays


At least once every holiday season, I have a meltdown. I sit between the Christmas movies on TV and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree and cry. It seems like everywhere I go everybody is celebrating Christmas with their kids, whether it’s the school holiday pageant, my friends all heading out to be with their children and grandchildren, or those TV shows where everybody is gathered together, young and old, from babies to great-grandparents. Here, it’s just me and the dog. I will be spending Christmas afternoon with a childless friend at his senior citizen mobile home park potluck. That will be nice, but it’s not exactly a Hallmark holiday.
Last week I wrote about getting off our pity pots and joining up with our friends and family with kids to help them and to ease our own grief. I still think it’s a good idea. But let’s be honest. Sometimes we’re just hurting too much to do that sort of thing. We just want to hide under the covers until the holidays are over. Watching other people with their kids is the last thing we want to do.
“It’s just another day,” says my Scrooge-y father, who does no Christmas decorations or other festivities. He just writes a few checks for his kids and calls it Christmas. He never was big on holidays and since Mom died, forget about it. He has children and grandchildren, but he doesn’t do warm, fuzzy relationships.
It’s all about attitude. I plan to make the best of my holidays. I will enjoy the food and friends, the music and colored lights. I will enjoy giving and receiving presents. I will be working my church music job Christmas Eve and Christmas morning—my choice—to keep myself busy. I plan to have fun at that potluck. Will I shed a few tears? Probably.
Dad also likes to say, “It is what it is.”
I don’t want to alienate anyone by getting all religious, but think about what we are celebrating this time of year, whether you’re welcoming the birth of Jesus, celebrating Hanukkah, or enjoying the winter solstice. Whether or not you have children has very little to do with it. Try to see the blessings that you have, even if you’re looking at them through tears. To paraphrase the old Crosby, Stills and Nash song, “Love the ones you’re with.”
And turn off the TV if it makes you cry.
How are you doing this week? Please share in the comments.