Years ago I was just a big sister who yearned to be a
mother. Siblings are great for preparing you for motherhood. Their significance
lies in the fact that they have just enough in common with you to drive you batshit
crazy while also keeping you a little sane. It’s that bizarre dichotomous nature
that makes life with siblings so interesting, infuriating, and yet rewarding
(if you’re lucky enough to recognize the perks).
As the oldest in the family, I always felt a lot of
responsibility in taking care of and raising my little sisters. Probably too
much…I so badly wanted to set a good example for them, which greatly shaped who
I became as a cautious perfectionist and someone who didn’t step outside of
boundaries for fear of failing in their eyes.
Honestly, I don't see myself as much of a perfectionist anymore,
probably because becoming a parent has made my own flaws so much more glaringly
obvious, and I've grown tired of trying to hide them. I am, however, quite aware of the little eyes upon me, and I see myself reflected in them
as they look up at me, pleading with me to love them, accept them, be proud of
them…
Once, while babysitting my youngest sister (I’m ten years
older), I felt like I was a little too hard on her when I sent her to her room
after she’d acted up. I had yelled, lost my temper, and then felt like a
horrible sister and worried I would eventually become a terribly impatient
mother. But it wasn’t long before she came back out of her room, gave me a hug,
and told me she was sorry. Of course, my
heart immediately melted into a pile of syrupy goo, I forgot all about the
prior frustration, and I had a realization that would stick with me throughout
my journey toward parenthood.
My patience is not unfailing, and my temperament is not
unfaltering. But Love guides us, and it
never wavers. Despite my imperfections, weaknesses, failures…I have what I need
to help shape a child. Their eyes will see the weak and the strong, the good and
the bad, but because I love them enough to teach them and guide them through it
all, they’ll be better for it.
I felt like a mama long before I ever had children of my
own, and now I find myself knee-deep in nostalgia as my kids and I do many of
the same things my sisters and I did back then.
We tell stories. We act silly. We crank up the music and
have ‘dance parties’. We wrestle. We tickle. We laugh and joke. We get on each
other’s nerves and then can’t get enough of each other.
I watch them sleep, I marvel at the beauty in their tiny
faces, I worry about them, and I wonder where their lives will take them.
To all my sisters – thank you for giving me a small taste of
motherhood. I hope my trial run was okay, and I hope you all look back on our
memories together as fondly as I do. Even if you did drive me batshit crazy.
