Sibling Irony

Something I’ve often heard is that having siblings teaching children how to share.

As an (older) sibling, I can honestly say whoever started that belief deserves to be punched.

Having a sibling did not teach me how to share. It taught me how to hoard and hide my stuff because I didn’t want to share. I hated sharing anything with my sister. I didn’t become better with sharing until I was in my late teens and, ironically, didn’t have to share anymore because someone told me to.

But the effects of having a sibling had already been done and I genuinely feel like having a sibling, and specifically being the older of the two, is what contributed most to my lack of any desire to be a parent.

Like most older siblings, I was often responsible for my sister. I don’t solely mean babysitting. If she did anything wrong, somehow, it was my fault. I was expected to know better because I was the older sibling, but somehow, she never was, no matter how old she got. I was actually aware enough as a kid to point this out, but it’s not like I was ever listened to. The bottom line is I very much resented being given the responsibility of a child I had zero part in bringing into the world, and I’m positive merely being a babysitter a few times would not cause that feeling.

Of course, this varies. Some oldest siblings willingly go on to become parents, and my boyfriend is the youngest of his parents’ three children and doesn’t want kids, despite being the typical “spoiled baby of the family” (until a certain age). This came to my mind because I found it ironic and somewhat hilarious. What was supposed to teach me about sharing and being responsible became the biggest factor in why I want nothing to do with parenthood.

More so, my sister has a rather idealized idea of caring for children. She wants kids of her own someday, and I do not knock her for that, but she knows next to nothing about taking care of someone smaller than her. She once asked me how I couldn’t want kids and while I know this is a question sometimes shared by parents, in this case, it came out of the mouth of a 16-year-old whose closest experience with caring for a child had been looking after a baby doll. That question is annoying, no matter who it comes from, but it makes more sense out of the mouth of someone who is a parent and knows they like the experience than someone who’s never done it. Granted, one could argue I’m not very different in that I’ve never been a parent and am saying it’d be terrible for me.

However, there are two differences here. I’m talking only about myself. I’ve never said no one else shouldn’t want to be a parent. I’m saying nothing more than I don’t. The other is, as I said, my sister has never been responsible for any children, whereas I have, and not just her. I can remember being left to after a small group of daycare children when I was about 8 or under (yes, my mothet was present). Her idea of parenthood comes from what she thinks it is. Mine comes from what I’ve done, and with no say in the matter at that.

Today, as an adult, I don’t hate children and, to an extent, I do enjoy looking after them. There are times when I’d genuinely prefer a child’s company to an adult’s. Occasionally, children who come to my register with their parents will talk about something, and one child surprised me when she was so quiet while waiting in line, but started chatting with me the second her parents came to my counter. It’s rather cute, even if I have no idea what they’re going on about, and heaven knows I’d rather hear that than be yelled at by a customer for the fifth time because I can’t do their return.

But all of those are temporary. At the end of the day, the children are gone and I go home. I can have patience with children precisely because I’m not around them 24/7. It’s easier to remember they’re children and they’re acting like children than it would be if I were over-exhausted and hadn’t slept in three days. I’ve heard parenthood can teach you patience – likely because you have no choice except to learn – but it could also very well double my temper, which happens naturally anyway. “Doing your best” isn’t an excuse when what you do causes you to scar your child. I didn’t realize until I was an adult my own mother was practically winging parenthood the whole time. She tried, but her “best” was only good when everything else was good. If not, hell reigned upon us.

In the end, along with lack of interest in parenthood, I’m not interested in playing Russian Roulette with someone’s life. At least, I can argue I wasn’t willingly given the responsibility of my sister. That was my mom’s doing. But my child? 100% my fault. No room to complain about having to share then! I’d brought that kid into the world. I’d better share!

15 Years of Being a Big Sister

For me, there are two holidays tomorrow. Independence Day, which celebrates when our country got its freedom and the Declaration of Independence was signed back in 1776. Then, my little sister’s 15th birthday.

Yep. Tomorrow marks 15 years of hell!

Okay, not really. But it is my sister’s 15th birthday tomorrow. I went out and bought two shirts as a birthday gift. Truthfully, being a big sister is not easy and I’m not sure if it ever gets easier. I love my sister, but she is a (literal) huge pain. Bratty, hard-headed, a general nuisance. Yeah, she’s a younger sibling alright. She was pretty cute when she was younger, but now…meh.

The worst thing about being an older sibling? Having to take partial responsibility for someone whose existence is not your fault. If I had to count the number of times I heard “you’re the oldest, you should know better” or “you’re supposed to set an example”, I’d need about twenty more hands. I always envy only children. I would’ve loved to grow up without having to share my toys, only to have them returned to me broken. To have gotten peace and quiet and not fight over whose space is whose. To not be used as a babysitter. Well, at least I have moving out to look forward to for all of that.

The best thing about being an older sibling? Well, I can’t pinpoint one “best” thing, but there are some pretty great ones. My sister happens to be a big eater, so if I ever didn’t want my dinner, there was my little bottomless pit. She would eat it. If we were ever together in a group, such as summer camp, and I wanted to be left alone, she could direct everyone away since she’s an extrovert. And if I ever did want a new toy, I guess that’s when her breaking my stuff came in handy.

If I wanted children, I would only have one. I’m sure my sister and I drove our mother insane with our constant fighting. The only time we would team up together would be to argue against her. Yeah, not something I’d be willing to put up with.

Ah, siblings. Can’t stand them. Can’t live without them (once they’re already born).