VI hp \

1

,.."

\\'

,t9

Fever

Photo courtesy of Julie Wiener

€11

In a matter
of seconds,
this columnist
became a
doting aunt.

Aunt Julie, Batia and (soon-to-be her uncle) Joe.

JULIE WIENER
Sta Writer

My own gift, a teddy bear and sun
hat, was a little more modest but gave
me an excuse to spend hours of
dreamy browsing among the aisles of
miniature outfits in Baby Gap. A few
weeks after that shopping trip, I was
gazing into the eyes of my very own
niece, whose face still had that
scrunchy newborn look and whose
neck still had to be supported.
Over the past nine months —
spanning two visits to Batia's home in
Washington, D.C., her visit (escorted
by parents of course) to. me in Ann
Arbor, countless phone calls and a
stack of snapshots — the passion for
my niece has only grown.
As a child, I laughed at those
proud parents who foist wallet pic-
tures on defenseless strangers, and I
never understood why my grandpar-
ents raved about the pictures I drew,
regardless of their quality. Even today,
my grandmother forces all who enter
her house in New York to read my
articles in the Detroit Jewish News.
But now, I am just as bad. I insist
on showing baby pictures to co-work-
ers and friends and am convinced
that Batia is the brightest, cutest,
most beautiful and best-natured
infant to have graced the planet.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I
played with Batia at every opportuni-

-

remember my surprise last April
when, as I emerged from the car
with my arms full of groceries,
my fiance popped out of the
apartment building with the words,
"Congratulations, you're an aunt!"
No, the birth of my niece, Batia
Judith Wiener Katz, on April 5 was
hardly shocking. My sister, Wendy, had
announced she was pregnant back in
July of 1996, and for the two weeks pre-
ceding Batia's birth, every conversation
with a family member had pretty much
consisted of, "Have you heard anything
from Wendy and Avery? I guess the
baby should come any day now"
What was surprising was that over-
whelming, gut-wrenching surge of
pride and love that coursed through
me for my niece, sight unseen. In a
matter of seconds, I had turned into a
doting aunt from hell.
And this is for a child who suffers
no shortage of doting. The first family
member of her generation, Batia's
arrival was eagerly awaited by a verita-
ble mob of adoring relatives. People
were actually fighting over who could
have the honor of purchasing Batia's
stroller, crib, changing table and other
necessities!

.

ty, helping her walk by holding her
hands as her little legs moved faster
than her balancing ability, sitting
nearby as she explored the living
room's wonders (mostly by crawling
after the cat and putting toys in her
mouth).
Perhaps because of my physical
resemblance to her mom, Batia took
an instant liking to me, feeling com-
fortable in my arms despite her anxi-
ety with other "strangers." Although
as a teen baby sitter I was always
glancing at my watch and calculating
my earnings, my pro Bono caretaking
hours flew by while Batia's parents
enjoyed a well-deserved restaurant
and movie.
Not only am I in love with Batia,
but I am in love with my official
title, Aunt Julie. I've been a sister
many times over, a daughter, grand-
daughter, niece and in a few months
I will be a wife, but this aunt connec-
tion thrills me. During my first visit
with Batia, I took her out for a stroll
in the synagogue lobby, while her
parents stayed for the end of Shabbat
services. When asked by the
inevitable baby admirers if she was
"mine," I didn't have to shake my
head as I have with endless baby-sit-
ting jobs but could instead say
proudly, "She's my niece."
Admittedly, my niece fever can be
partially explained by my yet-to-be-
satisfied maternal urges. But aunt-
hood is more than just a sublimation
of motherhood. In fact, when you do
a cost-benefit analysis, aunthood may
rate higher than motherhood or any
other familial relationship.
Aunts can spoil with the impunity
of a grandmother, yet still seem hip
and cool. Aunts are comforting like
mothers, while getting to sleep
through the night and reporting only
minimally for diaper duty. Like sib-
lings, aunts almost never discipline
and when it comes time for adoles-
cent rebellion, they get to be confi-
dantes rather than hated authority
figures.
So why do I still plan, four years
down the line, to produce my own
brood? Alas, those pesky irrational
biological maternal urges may over-
come these rational considerations.
Not to mention, my sister deserves
her chance at being an aunt too, I
suppose. El

1/23
1998

109