Sisterly Love

Katie was five when I found out I was pregnant with our second child. She had wanted a sibling for so long, and when we found out the baby was going to be another girl, we were all elated. Especially Katie. I had always wanted a sister; the bond between sisters is unbreakable. They would be best friends, I was sure.

And then Julia was born.

To say that Julia was a difficult baby is an understatement. She was born just plain pissed off, and for several months the only thing that would placate her was the boob and endless walking. No matter how much Katie tried to entertain her, tried to make her laugh, tried to build that bond, Julia would have none of it. Until she was 6 months old, Julia couldn’t stand anyone but me, not even her sweet, devoted sister.

Julia eventually learned to appreciate, and even idolize, her big sister. But those first few months were rough. They were so rough that when we told the girls we were having a third child, Katie burst into tears, ran from the room, and locked herself in her closet.

Who could blame her?

Now, at nearly 11 and 5, they are the best of friends and the worst of enemies. Six years age difference is an eternity when you’re a little kid, and sometimes that chasm cannot be crossed. My heart breaks for Julia when she watches her sister fly out the door to yet another activity or sleepover. Likewise, I feel bad for Katie when she’s trying so hard to be a big kid, with Julia pestering her non-stop, copying every move she makes.

Sometimes they are at each other’s throats so terribly that it’s hard to tell who the worse offender is. Sometimes they are hitting and pinching and pushing and pulling so much that it is all I can do not to yell Keep you goddamn hands off each other! as I separate them.

JULIA MARGARET! Katie yells at her sister.

KATIE MARGARET! Julia yells back, because she doesn’t ever seem to remember that they don’t share the same middle name.

Then sometimes they will disappear for hours into the playroom and I’ll find them in the middle of a Barbie-doll city or playing school or cuddled up together under a blanket watching a movie. They shower each other with kisses between hair pulls and when Katie says “Oh, I love you, Baby.” it makes me melt.

It makes me think – there might be something to this Sisterly Love after all.

Blah Blah Blah

No one listens to me. Out of all my gripes (and they are numerous), this is Numero Uno. I can cry, cajole, plead, threaten, bribe and rationalize, all to no avail. I can (and have) pitch a fit of epic proportions, yelling and stomping and throwing soft items (hurling a downy slipper is about as threatening as, well, hurling a downy slipper). I can sit calmly, establish eye contact, hold their hands and speak from my heart in a simple, easy to understand manner. Regardless of the approach, the effect is the same: Brick.Fricking.Wall.

I'm not alone. A friend recently told me the story of his wife lecturing their 10 and 12 year old daughters after the umpteenth yelling, smacking, name-calling fight between the two. At one point, she told them they were acting like stupid jerks (and if this strikes you as harsh, let me tell you that if you've never said something similar - or worse - to your children, it's only because the opportunity hasn't yet arisen. Sometimes our precious cherubs are a-holes, and sometimes, we let them know.). At the end of the lecture, the girls were both in tears. But not because of their horrible behavior, or because they felt bad about treating each other so poorly, or because they were overcome with sisterly affection and were vowing to never let it happen again.

No, they were crying because Mom said they were stupid jerks. They hadn't heard anything else.

I found myself in a similar situation tonight. Julia annoys the shit out of Katie. Katie, in turn, treats Julia like a dog. It pisses me off to no end. I was really ramping up to a good, long lecture, when I noticed their eyes glazing over. Julia was sitting there trying to fit her hand in her mouth, and Katie had suddenly developed an acute interest in her big toenail.

"This is just ridiculous!" I'm ranting on. "You're sisters! Is this how you treat your friends? Are friends more important than your sister?" I wonder if at some point I start sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher - wah wah wah wahhhhhh. I had barely gotten started and I had already lost them. I had to pull out my secret weapon.

I got silly.

I started making goofball noises and funny faces and flapping my arms. It got their attention. I danced around the room and pinched them on the butt. They started laughing. And now, now that I finally had them focused in on me, I found my anger was totally diffused. My girls were laughing and smiling and looking at me. I seized the opportunity, bent down and whispered, "Love each other."

It worked, at least long enough to get us through supper and everyone tucked into bed. Long enough for me to not end up frustrated and upset. Tomorrow is another day, and who knows what might happen. But for tonight, they listened, and so did I.

(Congratulations to Scout, who won my Fabulous Mystery Prize giveaway! Scout, I'll be contacting you soon, and I'll post the details of the fabulous prize.)