Tuesday, April 7, 2009
I am the oldest of five. My baby brother is 12 years younger than I am. Being the oldest makes you bossy whether you want to be or not. (Although I am sure they would tell you we enjoy it. Hah. Let those younger siblings be the OLDEST for a day and then tell me what they say.) "You're the oldest. You should know better." When you are the oldest, you are always in trouble for whatever your pestilence ridden younger siblings have perpetrated. Eat all the cereal that mom just bought? Are little brothers going to get it? Heck no. Younger siblings have a whole different set of rules than the older siblings.
My baby brother got away with murder. By the time he was a senior in high school, I was 29 years old, married, had a kid, and lived in a whole different state. (Texas has a special place in my heart.) I had come home to visit and school was still in session. My mom and I are talking and waiting up for my little brother who had a curfew of I think 11:30, it might have been midnight...but it doesn't matter because he busted curfew whatever it was~! He comes strolling in, says hi to me, kisses my mom hello and says he is tired and going to bed. Back the bus up! What do you mean you get to stroll in, kiss mom (who was NOT turning red and looking like she wanted to pop a gasket) and go to bed??
"Mom, isn't BB going to get in trouble?'' Big sisters are a pain in the ass. I just had to say something.
"For what?" Oh, she acted so innocent.
"For busting curfew! For not calling and saying where he was!" I was sputtering at this point at the whole unfairness of it all.
"Oh, is he late? Did you have a good time?" Arghhhhh......
I gave up at that point. When you witness a master in action, you can only humbly bow in awe.
I was bouncing around the blog world and read a post about the Duggar Family. You know, 18 Kids and Counting. I love the Duggars. I wanted a large family, then I became an ardent feminist and NEVER wanted kids, then I got married and once again wanted a big family. Alas, only ended up with 2 girls. And now I am divorced. Sigh.
Anyway some of the comments on one of the blogs were unbelievable for the animosity and contempt for the Duggars. But this is not about whether you think they are right or wrong, crazy or whatever. What amazed me was one lady's objections to this large family.
She said it was awful the way the dad called one of his kids by the wrong name. How traumatized that kid was going to be to only be one of the mob. She has to be a product of a small family. Being the oldest of 5 and all of our names beginning with the same letter (which I think someone else posted about how regimented and what little automatons those kids must be because the Duggars all start with the letter J), my mom regularly got our names all mixed up.
She would start with a name and go through all five of our names, get totally frustrated because she knew it was wrong but still could not get it right. We would stand there, risking life and limb, and tell her we were not coming until she got our names right. This was usually a poor tactic on our part. She would go to the kitchen, rattle the utensil drawer, the one with the spatulas just perfect for spanking, threaten us with mayhem if we did not come when she called.
The poor misguided commenter also said it was so regimented that the kids slept in the same room. I did not get my "own" room until my dad decided to add onto the house. A little drastic but I didn't argue. I most definitely had to share a room with a sibling. Today's kids do not know what the wonderful world of sharing really means. They need to share a ROOM with a sibling to fully understand what the meaning of privacy, liberty, and getting along is all about.
Come to think of it, maybe world leaders should be forced to bunk up in a small house with one bathroom, one phone, and one TV. Let's see if they can negotiate peace then.
Posted by Happy Hour...Somewhere at 9:01 PM