Sister Act

I've just spent a fun day with my in-laws. While I adore them all, hanging out with my three excellent sisters-in-law is always bittersweet because it makes me sad that I don't have a sister of my own.

Don't get me wrong, my two brothers are awesome and I love them dearly. But, as I've learned over the years from watching my gal pals and their sissies, the bond of sisterhood is like no other. Even sisters that hate each other are usually ridiculously close.

I can count the number of conversations I have with each brother per year on one or two hands (depending on if Christmas is at my parents' house or my in-laws' that particular year). Certainly I'm partially responsible--it's not like I call them much more often than they call me (which is somewhere between never and once a year), but that's mainly because they are men and just not that chatty.

I hang out with my sisters-in-law and am envious. Even though they all live in different states, they talk all the time and still have that sisterly shorthand with one another. Sure, there were rough patches when they were younger--my husband has told me about some knock-down-drag-out fights that happened during their teen years--but now they are best friends and share everything.

I wish I had that kind of relationship with someone. My husband's sisters could not be warmer, nicer, or more welcoming to me, but it's just not the same as having a sister of my own. In high school and college I had girlfriends who were almost like sisters, and even though I'm still close with most of them, it's only inevitable that we've grown apart somewhat. Family takes priority, and since these lovely ladies aren't actually family, well, we aren't each other's priorities anymore.

I used to think being the only girl was the best thing ever, because my dad spoiled me, I never had to wear hand-me-downs, and I didn't have to share my girly toys with anyone. But now I realize how wrong I was.

I hope all of you ladies out there with sisters realize how lucky you are.

S#*! the Big Sister Says

All this talk about bullying really bums me out. I posted about it before (here) but I can't get it out of my mind.

Bullying isn't just amongst peers, although that's what's covered by the media; it also occurs within families. Fighting and name-calling between siblings close in age isn't bullying, it's just normal, but what about when a few-years-older sister mercilessly teases her little brother? Does that count as bullying? Was I a bully to my brother? I think maybe I was...and I feel really guilty about it.

My brother is four years younger than me. I also have an older brother--we're just 15 months apart and were very close growing up. We did everything together, I think. My little bro came on the scene when things around the house were already pretty darn good. Perhaps I could've used a little sister, mostly because I wanted a tiny mannequin to dress up and a long head of hair to braid and style: a living doll. So yes, a second brother was kind of a disappointment, though the reality is that nothing is better to a four-year-old girl than a real live baby.

I have fond memories of singing the ABC song to him while my mother changed his diaper, and I recall the impressive arc of pee shooting into the air as he laid on the changing table. Better than a Betsy Wetsy doll!

My brother was almost as good as a sister. He grew long, blonde curls (hey, it was the 70's) and had huge brown eyes with thick, feathery lashes that elicited, "Oh, she's so cute!" from the old ladies at Stop-n-Shop. I always got a kick out of that. At home, I'd put barrettes in his hair and make him look even prettier.

But none of that was mean because he didn't know any better; he thought it was fun and was happy to be getting attention from his big sister.

The trouble started when he was four or five and figured out how to manipulate my father with his tears and tantrums. Imagine the scene: Shopping mall; dad and kids in Kaybee Toys; the two older kids understanding that this is a "looking" visit not a "buying" one; the little brother understanding this but not accepting it, throwing himself onto the floor while crying, screaming, and kicking his arms and legs; the unprepared dad caving in and purchasing desired toy; the little brother beaming while exiting the store holding a gigantic backhoe loader.

It brought the evil out of my well-behaved, good-girl self.

I called him stupid and told him he wasn't as smart as me and my older brother. Sometimes I'd get mad at him and just call him a brat, but that never got the rise from him that "dummy" or "idiot" did. I knew how to wound him. When his pet turtle died, I taunted him with, "Yay! Tommy the Turtle's de-eh-ed! He's de-eh-ed!" As my brother cried, I laughed in his face.

I wish I could say that our taunts (it wasn't just me...my older brother chimed in as well) didn't have a lasting impression, but I don't think that's true. My brother never thought he was smart. He didn't do great in school and acted like he didn't care. But I'm happy to say that he got his act together toward the end of his college career, was accepted by and graduated from (as Valedictorian no less!) an excellent dental school, and is now very successful.

Still, though...I don't think he considers himself to be as smart as he actually is. He's not at all bookish. He doesn't do crossword puzzles like me and my other brother. I can't help but think he'd be different if it weren't for my put-downs, that my bullying changed him...permanently.

And for that, I'm really, really sorry.