'I desperately want to be the cool aunt - which is not cool'
By Shelly Horton|
It kills me to say it but I'm SO desperate to be the cool aunt. Which of course is not cool.
You know the cool aunt who lets you get away with things your parents wouldn't allow, the one who takes you to cool places, who you can call if you're in a pickle and don't want your parents to ground you, the keeper of your little secrets.
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Aunty Gayle was my cool aunt growing up. She was younger than my mum, so teenage me figured she understood me better.
When I moved out of home to go to uni in Brisbane, she was always there for me. Giving me hugs through heartbreak and bending the rules until I was old enough to drink legally.
She's an incredible cook and even got me a job at the nightclub kitchen where she worked. She didn't try to be cool; she just was cool.
That's what I so desperately want to be, but my desperation is not the vibe. I put so much pressure on myself to be that for my two nephews, that I probably come off as the loser aunt instead.
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Being childfree by choice has bitten me in the butt because I don't really know what to do around a 14 and almost 17-year-old. They used to think it was great because I was Aunty Shelly on the Telly but now, they only watch YouTube and are more interested in how I got a blue tick on Instagram.
They are such polite and nice kids, which is a testament to my brother and sister-in-law, and they are pretty self-sufficient. They really don't need me.
Recently I looked after the boys for the weekend, while my brother competed in the Noosa triathlon (I don't know how we are related either). So, I wedged myself into my nephews lives.
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I bent every rule they have at home to secure a level of coolness I so craved.
The eldest drove us around as he's on his L-Plates. But again, instead of gripping the hand rest and taking sharp inhalations at every stop sign, he is actually a more competent driver than I am.
I extended his curfew by an hour, the only rules being; he had to call me if there was any trouble and he had to wake me up when he got home so I knew he was alive. He woke me up on the minute of curfew and politely said he had a great night and went to bed.
I took the youngest to his three, yes three, touch footy games. Yep, me. Playing the role of a footy-mum, sideline and ready to tear the opposing team a new one.
I asked my nephew whether I had permission to sledge the other team for being crap? I was ready to bellow "You suck!" to the opposition.
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"That's not very good sportsmanship Aunty Shelly, maybe you shouldn't," said my nephew. That put me back in my box.
Their mum is strict when it comes to snacks in the house, and they eat very healthily. The eldest describes their pantry as "dead". So, I pounced and let them have whatever meals and snacks they wanted.
The youngest wanted to introduce me to Pretty Handsome burgers which he said are "life changing". He was right. He was the cool one. I took him to Cold Rock for ice-cream and let him pick whatever he wanted even though he told me "It's so expensive, Dad hasn't taken me here since I was five."
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The thing about (trying) to be the cool aunt is that you end up almost bribing the kids for their love. I took the boys to a new sushi train they wanted to try, pretty standard, but they were stoked and asking me how many plates they were "allowed". Well, being double income, no kids I told them to go hard and seeing their faces light was enough to boost my cool aunt ego.
But I needed more. Picture two teenage boys being given free range with a massive jar of Nutella a spoon each. I loved it but instead of the cool aunt I'll probably just be known as the aunt who gave them diabetes.
I know they love me so I need to stop trying, maybe I need to learn how to be cool from them.
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