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November 23, 2005
I hate you. Can I have that?
From Lani, watching her daughters from a safe distance...
I've always regretted never having a sister. When I was young, I used to bug my mother to give me a sister, thinking it was really no big deal for her to just shoot one out. Now, I look back and admire my mother's restraint in not throwing out a resounding and horrified, "Hell, no!" as opposed to her gentle but resolved, "I don't think so, honey." When I was in college, I met my best friend, Tracy. Neither of us had a sister, so we sort of adopted each other. We'd refer to each other as sisters, and treat each other as sisters. Or, rather, we'd treat each other the way we thought sisters treated each other in our idealized and uninformed fashion.
Now, as the mother of two daughters, I have a special front row seat to the sister relationship, and now I know: Tracy and me? Not sisters.
For example, we've never fought over something completely stupid only to end the argument by borrowing each other's clothes. Tracy and I have never fought at all, really. We've had moments of tension - we were roommates for a long time and I defy anyone to live with me for any period of time without feeling some tension - but we've never out-and-out fought.
Hence, not sisters.
Even though I've only had four years to observe the sister relationship, and this one I'm observing is in its infancy, I've learned one thing. Sisters? Fight. Over everything. Over anything. Especially boys.
Yes. My daughters are 6 and 4 and they are already fighting over boys. Hence I'm already learning to discern single-malt whiskey from the crap.
There was a little boy who lived down the road for a while this year. Very cute little guy, had a Robert Redford, Jr. thing going on for him, so for the purposes of the article, I'll call him Red.
Before they moved (Red is the son of my CWK who moved, sniff sniff) Red was in Sweetness's class this year, so we saw him twice a day at the bus stop. Sweetness was instantly smitten and, after the first day of class, asked if she and Red would get married someday. I said, "Hey, maybe, who knows?" and let it drop. Hell, I'm not gonna be the one to tell her how many frogs she's gonna have to kiss before she finds the one she's gonna marry. Reality has its time and place and Kindergarten? Ain't it.
But, see, here's the thing. Light, because she is four and will burn the house down if I turn my back on her for a minute, went with us to the bus stop every day. So, Light got to see Red every day. And Light is friendly. She likes to play. Mostly she likes to boss other children around and tell them what they're going to play. At this age, no one's knocked her out yet, so I let it slide. Anyway, Red and Light ended up kind of pairing together at the bus stop, and one day, I saw Sarah writing a letter to Red. Here it is, transcribed in its entirety, with names changed to protect the young, and spelling corrected to protect the people who really don't have that kind of time:
"Dear Red,
Light is trying to steal you. Don't let her. I don't like her. She's bad.
Love,
Sweetness."
Okay. Fine. So they fight. All siblings fight, you're thinking. What makes sisters special?
The fact that they fight... and then ask for stuff. And give it. And then play nicely for a while. And then the fight starts up again. Not two seconds after Sweetness wrote this letter, gave it to me, and made me promise to deliver it to Red the following morning at the bus stop, she walked over to Light and convinced her to share her Dora Princess Castle. Which Light did willingly, until Sweetness started bogarting Boots the Monkey. Then Light hit Sweetness over the head, Sweetness screamed and cried and punched her in the arm, and then Light asked Sweetness if she could play with her stuffed cat, and Sweetness - without a hint of residual anger - gave it to her and they played nicely for a few minutes until the next conflict arose.
Now, see, I grew up with an older brother. My interaction with him was limited to mostly trying not to get hit. This sister thing doesn't make any sense to me, but it seems to be just that - a sister thing, the core concept of which seems to be, "I really don't like you, but we wear the same size, and you've got those cute jeans..."
Thank God for single-malt, that's all I'm saying.
This blog was brought to you by She, Myself & I, Whitney Gaskell's newest release about three sisters who prove that blood is thicker than gay ex husbands, raging hormones, and racy secrets.
Posted by Lani at 6:44 AM | Comments (3)
Comments
Coming from a big sister--you hit the nail on the head with the relationship. I might call it a love/hate relationship. You love them when they aren't wearing the cute jeans (oh, and the shoes, have to borrow the shoes too), but when they happen to wear them on the day you MUST have them--it's definitely hate.
Posted by: Bethany at November 23, 2005 11:05 AM
The closer in age sisters are, the more they fight. I had a sister 17 months younger than me--dog fight!! I also have a sister 8 years younger--no problem. 3 brothers in between--no problem.
Posted by: Estella at November 23, 2005 2:02 PM
Ah, you brought back memories.
I am the oldest of three sisters, all a year apart. Lemme see, we fought over clothes, phone time, bathroom time, makeup, music, the car, chores, babysitting jobs, the hairdryer, laundry, boys and just about anything else you can think of. Good times, good times.
Of course now, thirty years later, we adore each other. We don't have fights. There are more important things to deal with these days. And we've all had kids. Payback is the great equalizer. :)
CJ
Posted by: CJ at November 23, 2005 2:43 PM
