RING RING, IT'S THE BETHLINE...

Hello, hello everyone. Bethline, my monthly (lol) advice column has risen from the dead. Bethline is a place where you can ask me anything you may need a little guidance on. A therapist I am not, but I do like to consider myself somewhat of a big sister to the internet.

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My daughter, Luna, is somehow going to be 6 months old (!?!?!?!?!) next week, and I am still figuring out the rhythm of this whole mom thing. I’d like to be more present here at Oversharing; alas, full-time mom-ing is very time-consuming. I figured bringing Bethline back would be a smooth way to reenter this space after a few months away. So without further ado, let’s get into it …

Hi Bethany! So I (25 year old woman) just moved 15 minutes away from my sister (36) and she has 2 young children (3 & 5 years). I was the youngest in my family (I also have two older brothers in their mid-40s) and since I didn’t grow up with anyone younger in my life I feel I didn’t get the experience of caretaking. I also was called “mature for my age” and that I “behaved like an adult”, which aside from that being problematic in itself, I feel no connection with my inner child (not sure that I had the type of youth that allowed me to be a kid in some ways anyways). I have friends who are great with children, for example, they can speak to children in words they’ll understand and are imaginative enough to thoughtfully engage with them. I, on the other hand, feel I do the “interrogation” method—“wow! What’s your favorite color? Which princess do you like? Why do you like them? What movie are they from? What happens in the movie?”…etc. My partner and I are also sure we do not want to have children of our own (is this also because I never was responsible for someone younger than me, who knows!) I am so excited to be closer to my sister and her family but I could use an outside perspective: I feel I have no maternal instinct, how do I approach taking care of children? How do I support my sister when I don’t know what she’s experiencing in motherhood and seemingly I never will?

Dear MIA (Maternal Instinct Afar),

Let me just start this off by saying, you’re doing great, sweetie! It is very apparent to me that you care deeply for both your sister and her kids. Taking the time to write out this thoughtful question instead of googling “how to disappear when a toddler hands you a lollipop covered in dirt” already puts you miles ahead of many other people. The fact that you’re approaching this situation with curiosity instead of searching for the emergency exit already is caretaking, because, well, you care! So don’t discredit yourself too much, babe - you don’t need to have a maternal instinct to be a loving, supportive presence in a child’s life. Also, what even is a maternal instinct? I’m not sure I ever had one, to be honest with you, and here I am, a full-ass mom. Your uncertainty around kids and your decision not to have them are totally valid. You’re not obligated to give birth in order to prove you're a nurturing person. Your value isn’t measured in your ability (or inability) to play dress-up; it’s in your company, your effort, and the fact that you’re showing up for your family—even when it feels like wearing a pair of pants two sizes too small.

While some kids were becoming fluent in dinosaur facts, it sounds like you were perfecting your “mature young woman” routine and holding adult conversations at the age of nine, so yeah, jumping into kid world now at the age of 25 might feel a little bit like being in a country where you do not speak the language. Feeling like you missed the child whisperer gene doesn’t make you broken or bad with kids, though; it just makes you an adult who was told to act like an adult when you should have been acting like a child (I love that for you! Therapy also loves that for you!) Look, you don’t have to suddenly become Miss Rachel to be qualified to help out with kids; you just need to show up and allow yourself to get a little ridiculous from time to time. Kids just want someone to be weird with! They want someone to see them, listen to them ask the same question over and over again, and pick up the toy they keep dropping while saying, “uh oh.” All you have to do is keep them safe, keep them vaguely entertained, and make sure they don’t eat rocks. Throw on a little Sesame Street, and let Elmo do the rest, babe. I believe you can be a maternal figure in these kids’ lives! I think you believe it too! Otherwise, you wouldn’t even be considering it.

As far as supporting your sister goes, you absolutely do not need to understand the full mental load of motherhood to be a lifeline to a mom in your life. No mom cares whether you know the difference between a dream feed or a diaper blowout; they just want to know you’re there. There are a lot of people in my life who have seemingly dropped off the face of the earth since I became a mom. I’m guessing it’s a combo of “I don’t know what to say to her anymore” and “she’s probably too busy scraping purée off her kitchen floor to talk.” So let me say this to you, a childless person worried about not being able to relate, on behalf of all moms: we don’t need you to understand the language of mystical teething cries or know what a “sleep regression” is (honestly, I barely do). What most moms really need is for someone to ask us how we’re doing. Not in the “How’s the baby sleeping?” small talk kind of way, but in the “How’s your brain? Did you go outside at all this week?” kind of way. Because underneath the spit-up and chaos, we’re still in here—just hoping someone notices. So just treat your sister like … your sister! Show up for her. Bring her flowers; bring her coffee; surprise her and her family with a pizza for dinner, because at the end of an exhausting day of entertaining tiny humans, the literal last thing most of us want to do is figure out what to eat (we are too busy scrolling all the streaming services looking for mindless TV to watch). Your sister doesn’t need you to be her playdate partner or a pediatrician; she just needs you to be a friend.

The good news is, you’re already that friend, and it’s so special (and caring!) that you want to be a really good friend to your sister. Just remember that you don’t need to arrive with a profound knowledge of tummy time or toddler trivia—you just need to be the person who reminds her that she’s more than a snack-making, tantrum-defusing, sleep-deprived shell of her former self. Be her safe space to vent, laugh, cry, or just let her stare blankly at a wall for ten minutes while you load the dishwasher. That type of support doesn’t require “maternal instinct”—it just requires love, consistency, and maybe treating her to a pedicure while you play hide-and-go-seek with the kids at a park down the street. That’s the real magic and support moms need (not to mention paid maternity leave and affordable childcare, but we will tackle that another day!)

So try to stop overthinking it, MIA, you don’t need to reinvent yourself as the modern-day Mary Poppins. You just need to be who you already are: a thoughtful, slightly confused, but very caring person who’s willing to show up and get a little yogurt (or a lot) on your shirt. Children are magical, chaotic little freaks, and spending time with your sister’s kids will, in the end, allow you the chance to be the magical, chaotic little freak you never really got to be growing up. Inner child work doesn’t always look like journaling while looking at a photo of 8-year-old you. It can also look like getting down on the ground and howling like a wolf and then letting a kid wipe snot on your sleeve. And honestly? That might be exactly what you need to heal your inner (adultified) child. Let loose, spill glitter all over the floor! And then clean it up after you do so your sister doesn’t have to :) You got this, Auntie.

xo, Bethany

If you’d like to ask me a question for a future Bethline, you may do so here.