Just Being the Baby

Siblings Day was this past week.  Well, shoot a monkee!  I totally missed it!  So maybe it is still appropriate to talk about my siblings?

A book has been written about Birth Order (The Birth Order Book by Kevin Lehman), places in the family and the general characteristics of those in Birth Order.  It is the opinion of some that every family is different and based on the number of years placed between children, it is said another “family” can be constituted.  

Pshaw!  In my humble opinion... siblings are siblings are siblings.  

I can say that because I am the Baby of the Family.  Everyone knows that they are different.  Everyone has an idea of what it is like to be the Baby of the Family.  You really don’t know what it like unless you are the Baby of the Family.

Older siblings have an idea of what your life was like when you (the Baby) became the only child at home.  Your life was the charmed one.  You were the favored one.  They believe you were spoiled during that time.  They believe you got to do things they were not allowed to do.  

They refuse to believe that your life was just like theirs.  Just in a different decade.

When you have the same parents, those parents change very little during the course of a generation.  They become more “mellow”.  (I can say this from personal experience, having become an older parent.)  That is the only difference I see.  Over time, parents learn to pick their battles and they learn what is important.  

I SOOOO love my older siblings.  But they still see me as a child.  I suppose to them I will always be that younger child... nothing will change that.

My oldest sister was more like a mother to me.  She was 14 when I was born and always displayed love and affection for me when the other siblings teased me until I actually cried.

My second oldest sister expected me to babysit her children because she had been forced to babysit me as a teen.  What?  That is not my fault... blame Mama... sorry girl, but I've got a date and I won't be here this evening!  

My brother, who was the middle child, was 10 years my senior and although I never actually remember him living at home, I do remember that he referred to me as “Li’l Sista!”.  He would stand back with his hands on his hips and say this.  (I could never tell if it was awe or wonder?)  

The sister closest to me always called me the “Little Kid”.  In my childhood, I took it as a term of endearment.  It was only through intense family counseling that I realized it was not an endearing name. These days, however, I would take it as a compliment if she actually called me that.  When we are together and people ask if we are sisters, I always exclaim, “I’m the younger sister!”  

Then my sister will chime in... “Well... you’re only 3 years younger!”

Actually it is 3 and a half years.  

My siblings with me, the baby, sometime in the late 1950s.