The Battle Hymn of the Mother of The Only Child

On Mother's Day, I would like to give a special shoutout to the mothers of only children. You know who you are. You are the ones attending school events unencumbered by "the baby."

You can drive a Volkswagen Beetle if you want, carry a teeny purse free of sippy cups and get back your "me time" a lot quicker.

We take up less space on the scenic overlook.

I did not set out to have an only. Medical karma, timing and knowing my limits just made it work out that way. Nearly 15 years in, I can't imagine it any other way.

Growing up, I don't think I knew one single only child. Families had two, three, four kids at least. These days, there are more, but out here in the suburbs, the 2.5 kids stat still probably is the norm.

Still, when I meet someone with an only child, I give them the "Oh, I knoooowwwww" nod." Do people still say "What are your kids doing this summer" to you, even though they know full well there is just one 'kid'? Ask you when you are going to have more? (say what?) Ask if he is lonely? (he's not) Ask if your marriage is OK? (yikes).

Here are some things I have learned along the way:

1. You will feel different. I first noticed this at my very first preschool back-to-school night. Our students were turning 3; every single mom at that meeting was either very pregnant or toting a very small infant.

I felt a little like one of those cartoon ladies that says "OMG! I forgot to have (more) children!" Lesson learned though - never let a cartoon lady influence or some other moms at school your family planning.

I went out and bought myself an expensive purse the next day. "I don't have diapers to carry around anymore, suckers." (But if I change my mind, I will swap it right back for the Kate Spade diaper bag).

2. Your "life" is smaller, but that can be a plus. Having an only is a more compact system. We never outgrew our three-bedroom house. I can drive a Prius. Son of Snarkshelf has been to Europe and Costa Rica. I never did those types of things until I was 30. My son, either by coincidence or not, has several friends who are onlies. They go on great trips too.

At my house, we do more with less.

I have friends with three kids who have not finished a conversation since 2001. They are on their third minivan. They have to be three places at any one time, and something usually goes wrong. I am not saying either lifestyle is a better lifestyle. I am just saying I have time for window shopping. My friends with a vanful of kids would envy the window shopping, but they really don't have the time.

3. What about the sibling thing? He never asked for one. For many years, I would check in with my son once a year to ask if being an only bothered him. "Not really," he said. Then he would go back to reading his book and asking if we could have sushi for dinner.

I have one sibling, my brother, Spike, who is less than two years older than me. Like many families, we have a love-hate relationship. We have been bickering for nearly 50 years. When I want my son to get a taste of the sibling thing, we head over there for a visit. I think he comes away with a headache and the realization that his mother is emotionally still 14 years old when she gets around her brother. Conclusion: what's so great about THAT?

4. You are blissfully exempt from both scrapbooking (it gets redundant with pictures of THE SAME DAMN KID) and having one of those ridiculous stickers of your family in stick figures on the back of your car (that is not a van).

5. Milestones that go quicker: You have to suffer through Disney World once or twice, then YOU NEVER HAVE TO GO AGAIN. I look at the balance in the college account and don't burst into tears because I know it only has to cover one kid. It will be (mostly) enough. I only had to eat six Fairfax County Public Schools Thanksgiving lunches.

There is a downside to that, though. The empty nest years we hear about are knocking at my door. My son is in high school. I am on a need-to-know (and need-to-drive) basis now. There are many times I am alone in my house. That's still a rarity for the big families I know. For me, it is a ticking reminder that my job - to get him to age 18 without an arrest record, a street fight, an expulsion or rickets and with reasonable manners and future job skills - is nearing the finish line.

And it is much, much too late to chuck it all for the Kate Spade diaper bag.

I am not that sentimental, so I prefer to look forward (except sometimes when I am, of course, alone in my house and I pull out old baby pictures). Being the parent of an only is like a long book with short chapters: you can turn the pages very quickly and practically skip right to the ending.

We're already planning for five years from now, where, if I have done my job correctly, my son will be in college, and my husband and I- with mixed emotions, of course - can trade our suburban house in walking distance of the elementary, middle and high schools for a two-bedroom condo somewhere much more exciting.

Some 30-year-old with a tote full of sippy cups will be thrilled to take my place here in the house on the corner.