It’s amazing how just three short years ago, my daughter thought of my son as a pariah who was not to be trusted, engaged, cuddled, loved. At least that’s how it seemed back then.
I don’t think about that time often anymore (in fact, I’d love to forget it), but occasionally I’m reminded of it when I hear my daughter speaking to my son with the love and sympathy that only a big sister can give. He’s been sick the past two days, and boy oh boy has she been a mother hen. It’s no coincidence that she talks constantly of wanting to be a mommy someday (if she only knew, LOL!).
When my son was born at the tail end of 2015, my husband and I were 110% ready to tackle another newborn. We’d been through all of this before and we knew we’d be dealing with sleepless nights, constant diaper changes, lots and lots of crying, back-to-back-to-back feedings, and a whole new routine. What we weren’t prepared for was our daughter’s reaction to our son, not to mention her regressions (potty training, for one) and hardcore temper tantrums. It wasn’t that she was physically mean to him, per se, but more that she didn’t want to acknowledge his presence in any positive way. And she most certainly didn’t want to give up all the attention. She started acting out, not listening, whining and crying constantly, and clinging to me and my husband for dear life. Man was that annoying, stressful, and oh so suffocating! If there’s one thing (OK, two things) I can’t stand, it’s whining and clinginess. Grrrrrrrr.
It was a battle of wills that lasted for almost two years. She just couldn’t get past the (unconscious) jealousy, anger, and fear that come with sharing the spotlight with a sibling. And why should she? She was not quite two when her brother arrived, and she had been the only baby on both sides of our family since she was born. She didn’t understand that her brother was a supremely needy newborn with all sorts of issues: acid reflux, GERD, a tongue tie that prevented him from sucking and nursing properly, you name it. Plus, he didn’t know how to “sleep like a baby,” which I’ve come to learn is a myth. Not all babies “know” how to sleep; some of them (like my son) require training. But that’s a whole other topic that I won’t be delving into here.
We were at our wit’s end for what seemed like forever. Everything we read at the time said it would take only a few months for our girl to become accustomed to her new brother. Boy was that a lie! Nothing we did leading up to our son’s birth helped ease the transition for our daughter. Not “explaining” to her the changes we were about to experience in welcoming a new member to our family, not letting her assist with all things baby, not buying her a present at his birth (a “big sister” gift), not telling her how lucky she was to have a sibling to play with (eventually), and definitely not showering her with our love and affection. We were so uber-aware of the favoritism issue that we often declined when my sister-in-law offered to take our daughter for a play date. We were too afraid that if we let her go, she would think we were “choosing” her brother over her. That was the wrong decision, and one I will always regret.
In short, we were a hot mess back then and I do not look back on that time with anything remotely resembling fondness.
Today, though, it’s a whole new ballgame.
Slowly but surely, my children are becoming the best of friends. It has taken a lot of time, patience, and sacrifice, but we’re finally heading in the right direction. I can only hope and pray they keep chugging along because that’s a ride I’m ready and willing to stay on for the long haul. With my daughter at the wheel, though, it’s a pretty safe bet these two will be thick as thieves.
One of the best things about my daughter is that she has a sassy, silly sense of humor. And no one can make my son laugh the way she can. I don’t mean a giggle, either. I’m talking about an all-out, shake-what-ya-momma-gave-ya belly laugh. It doesn’t even matter what she says or does. She could simply be jumping on the couch making a silly noise or crawling onto his back while he lays on the floor or eating her dinner with a spoon instead of a fork. Sometimes he gets laughing so hard he can’t even draw breath. And it’s so contagious that it brings an instant smile to my face, even now as I’m writing. It’s the most amazing sound in the whole world and I hope he belly laughs like that forever.
It reminds me of the good ole days with my own brother, who also never fails to make me laugh. I don’t see him often—hardly at all, in fact—but when I do, it’s right back to our old shenanigans and jokes. I miss those days like you wouldn’t believe. Back when life was simple and good. To this day, my dad jokes that I always crack up at anything and everything my brother says or does, even when it isn’t all that funny. LOL. It’s crazy how things really do come full circle.
Anyways, back to my favorite pair of siblings.
Another thing I noticed recently: My daughter may be timid and shy in most social situations, but she won’t take any crap from anyone when it comes to her baby brother. I witnessed this for the first time at a bounce house not too long ago. An older, bigger boy was picking on my son (who’s a bit on the smaller side), getting in his face and telling him he couldn’t be at the front of the line. Well, my little Miss Thang put her arm around her brother and walked him right up to the front, all the while staring this bully kid down (evil eye and all—just like her momma)! Clearly, she is a quiet force to be reckoned with, my girl. She didn’t even need to say a word. She just glared at him with a disgusted look that said, “You mess with my brother, you mess with me.” And as a mom, that was a beautiful thing to behold, especially considering where we started.
I’m not saying they don’t fight—they do, often, and like cats and dogs. They antagonize and tattle on each other like nobody’s business. They never agree on the same TV show, movie, food, drink, game, book, you name it. They constantly vie for all the attention (doesn’t matter who’s dishing it out). They play tug of war over the same toy ad nauseam. Like this morning. I’m sitting here writing and suddenly, my son gets his panties in a twist and loses his mind over the fact that my daughter is playing with his Spider-Man Lego motorcycle. Never mind that he was play-wrestling with his dinosaurs and didn’t give a crap about his Spider-Man until she touched it. These kids even argue over who gets to use the potty first! UGH, it drives me absolutely bonkers crazy. All of it. Some days the fighting makes me want to run out of this house screaming like a banshee and never come back. Sorry, honey, can’t take it anymore, see ya around!
Thankfully, though, times like these are becoming fewer and farther between (though you wouldn’t know it from my aforementioned Spidey story). I guess that’s why I’m becoming more and more willing–most days–to play referee during these fleeting and inconsequential moments. Because when it comes down to it, the love between my babies is deep and palpable. And when they play, they are like little angels from above. If you know me well, you know I don’t say things like that very often. I’m much more likely to complain about my kids than to lovingly compliment and gush over them. I don’t say that in a mean way, I’m just not that parent who thinks her kids’ sh** don’t stink. In fact, more often than not I think it stinks to high heaven.
To listen to them play, though, is quickly becoming one of my most favorite things. I don’t even care if they’re getting into mischief. Sometimes because it buys me 5, 10, or—if I’m really lucky—30 minutes of “free” time, but mostly because that’s when they are in their element. When I hear my daughter gently whisper to my son, “Come on, buddy, wanna go play?” my heart melts into an ooey, gooey mess (her use of that endearment gets me every time!). Or when my little girl asks her brother if she can play with him and his beloved dinosaurs and he immediately replies, “OK, Isabella, yeah you can play with me, here you go,” and hands over his favorite T-Rex, I am overcome with pride for these beautiful babes.
And when I watch them circle around each other on the family room floor, giggling and dancing and squealing with joy and just loving life, it never fails to bring tears to my eyes. Because that is true happiness, true friendship, true love, which cannot and will not ever be replaced. And who better to experience that unique bond with than your own sibling.
I never really thought about it until now, but in those moments, my children are exquisite and flawless. They are perfectly imperfect apart, and they are perfectly imperfect together (yeah, I’m going to borrow that line from This Is Us because I love it and it fits perfectly [pun intended] here). What my children are learning is that it’s not about having a friend, it’s about having a friend for life. That gives me such peace because one day my husband and I won’t be here, and all they’ll have is each other. And all my husband and I can hope for is that when that time comes, they will understand, appreciate, and cherish their bond for the priceless gift that it is.