Siblings know you at your worst and best, and love you anyway. They've been a partner in crime, a midnight companion, and know when you are smiling, even in the dark. They've been your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, they are the reason you wish you were an only child.
I have four siblings. Four! Just the thought of raising five children exhausts me. I actually asked my Dad once, "What were you and Mom thinking- 5 kids?!" He looked at me with a bland expression and said, "After three, what's the difference?" He loved having a big family. My mom of course, was the one cooking and cleaning for the brood. But I digress....
My siblings and I are a melting pot of personalities. Some of us are oil and water, with personalities so diverse it’s a wonder we shared the same house, much less the same gene pool. Some are more like coffee and creamer: strong on our own, but better when we’re together. With five of us in the mix, I’ve seen it all.
I’m fourth of five. That makes me the youngest girl (did not hate that part), and given the age difference of my next older sibling, it makes me a veritable oldest child (an odd dynamic). By the time I was in middle school my older sibs were all out of the house, leaving just my younger brother and myself. We, it turns out, were oil and water. I felt like Mom babied him. He felt entitled to the preferential treatment. Was it really necessary for him to be a part of my slumber party with my girlfriends on my 12th birthday? What child really needs six Big Wheels anyway? And why wasn’t it ever his turn to do the dishes? Clearly, we didn’t gain a healthy respect for each other until our adult years.
Though we are diverse in many ways, the similarities of my siblings are glaring. Two of us work in the human resources field; we all have a ruthless temper; the boys both got dad’s hair- or lack thereof; debate is sport for most of us; two of us watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” every year on Christmas Eve; we all still believe in Santa; we all know what “half cute” really means; and the pièce de résistance… Miller Lite. Cumulatively we’ve gone through 7 marriages, 3 divorces, 9 births, surgeries, car accidents, Mother's cancer survival, and Dad’s terminal illness.
You don’t grow up with four mini-me’s and come away unscathed. You do come away knowing that there is someone who will always love you- even when they don’t like you. For instance, surely my sister still loved me when I cried to Dad that I wanted her to put my hair in curlers like a big girl. I can still see her angry face as she put Dippity Do in my hair and rolled it up. Certainly my big brother still loved me when I borrowed his car as a teenager and brought it back with no gas in it. No doubt my other sister didn't mind when Mom and Dad told her she had to take me along to the movie with her date. Time and time again, my older sibs have remarked about how much they loved going to the drive-in as a family when we were kids. I remember fondly the story of how they ended this tradition because I always cried. How kind of them to think of my comfort and general well being. Nothing like sibling love...
At the end of the day, I know which of my siblings will listen when I need to vent, and which will roll their eyes. I know who will get a pedicure with me, and get red polish. Every. Single. Time. I know who to call when I’m not sure if the hot water heater needs replaced, and which sibling knows the best resort in Jamaica. I know that on Dad’s anniversary, their hearts hurt as much as mine does.
I admit I’ve wondered what it would have been like to be an only child. About that time, my car starts making a funny noise and I call my brother for his insight. Truth is, I love having four siblings. Although, I still think that six Big Wheels is a little ridiculous….
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