I often try to post about family members when their birthdays come around. Well, today is my sister’s birthday, so it is her turn. But I find I have already written about most of the memorable moments in our relationship (at least, the most memorable from my perspective).
So, instead, I will write a confession.
I was often not the “good big sister” that everyone thought I was. As I’ve said before, my sister and I were just far enough apart in age for my parents and grandparents to think I was a good “little mother,” or at least a convenient babysitter. But we were close enough in age that neither of us relished that perceived relationship.
My sister with me and our mother, back when she liked me babysitting her
It wasn’t so bad when she was a baby. Despite her usually cheery personality in her first year or two, she didn’t like babysitters from outside the family and wouldn’t let them do anything with her. When our parents went out for the evening, by default she turned to me. The devil she knew was better than the one she didn’t.
But once she turned two, it was another story. She did not like me ordering her around, and I did not like her telling me no. Yet I was not experienced enough in child-rearing to know how to cajole a toddler successfully. So I resorted to brute force. Or teasing. Which wasn’t fair to her. Even as a small child, she had a keen sense of justice.
My sister, about the time she started objecting to my domineering approach
One of the first things her future husband said to me when I met him was “Oh, so you’re the evil older sister.” Apparently, my reputation preceded me. I already knew when I heard his comment that I had made many mistakes as a sister, but I hadn’t realized how long-lasting the impact might be.
So my confession is: I am sorry for how I bullied her. I hope I’ve grown wiser in the last fifty years.
Despite my poor treatment of her as a toddler, my sister has since had the grace to be nice to me as an adult. We commiserated together as working mothers, though I was a decade ahead of her in childrearing. We dealt with our mother’s Alzheimer’s and with both parents’ deaths without any rancor. After our father died, my sister invited me to stay in her home when I traveled to Washington State to handle his estate, and I took her up on it several times. She plans to fly across the country to attend my son’s wedding next month.
We took family vacations with my parents after we were both grown and had kids. And she and her husband went on a wonderful cruise last year with my husband and me. Next year we are planning another grand vacation . . . and our brother and his wife will accompany us also.
As adults, we have had the opportunity to build memories together, perhaps happier memories than some of the ones from our childhood. And we will build more good memories in the years ahead, God willing.
In the meantime, Happy Birthday, Sister! And forgive me for my past sins.
