Brotherly Love
When Hubby and I got married we discussed, as most people do, the children we would like to have. At first we decided we would have two boys five years apart. Yes, we were actually dumb enough to believe that we might have some control over the gender of these hypothetical children. Our plans were nullified when our first was born a beautiful, wonderful, everything we didn't know we wanted girl. But after a dreadful pregnancy and terrible labour and delivery we changed our minds about having two and decided one was enough. Yes, we were actually dumb enough to believe we had some control over this without surgical intervention. Five kids in five years later...........
We have always stressed to our children the importance of, well, each other. We have taught them they are each other's first best friends. We have encouraged them to be kind, sweet, and gentle. Apologize and forgive. I assure you there's more apologizing and forgiving going on than kindess, sweetness, and gentleness. But they really have become each other's best friends. None of them really enjoy being apart for longer than a day.
This week we decided to send the 13 year-old for a visit to Gramma and Papa's house for a visit. She has had a lot of responsibility placed on her recently because of Hubby's injury. There have been quite a few doctor's appointments and hospital visits over the past six months for which she's had to babysit. She's also helped with the cleaning, cooking, laundry, and really anything thing else I've asked her to do. She has maintained a mostly sweet attitude and set a very good example for her younger syblings. She needed a break, not that she asked for one, I just knew she needed one. We discussed how long she would go for and when we mentioned two weeks, tears formed in her eyes. We decided on one week much to her relief. She later confided in me that while she was very excited for her little "vacation" she didn't think she could handle two whole weeks away from her family.
The Buddies and I drove her the two hours to my parents' house and dropped her off. after a bit of supper and a cup of tea I told the boys it was time to go. I'm not sure that it really sunk in that their sister would be gone for a while because in true Buddy Fashion they ran to the truck without a second thought, leaving their sister standing at the door with open arms awaiting hugs she wouldn't receive. I hugged her three times as long to make up for the rejection then headed home. That night Buddy #2 seemed a little sullen. He said he missed "Bugga" (The Buddies' knickname for their oldest sister since they've learned to speak). Me, being quite proud of my mothering skills, said, "That's good!"
It wasn't good. Yes, he loves his sister. That IS good. What was about to happen...not so much. At bed time Buddy #2 spent the first part of the night without his "Bugga" hunched over the toilet with a sick stomach. He spent the second part of the night in bed with a bucket. He said he was worried something might happen to her while he wasn't around to help her. We talked about worry, why it's silly, and Who is really in control. We quoted Scripture, prayed and he finally slept.
The next day I got the bright idea to ask my daughter to call home each night before bed to say good-night to her Buddy. Sheer genius, right?! Nope. Buddy #2 hadn't mentioned the missing link to our family all day. He was sitting quietly enjoying "Mars Needs Moms". A cute movie, lots of funny parts. Bugga called, said her goodnights, and hung up. I thought it went quite well. I gave myself a mental pat on the back and settled in for a peacful night. Then the movie took a slight turn. According to the film makers' imagination, female Martians aren't all that nice. Long story short, the earth mom almost dies to save her son. It was just enough to set Buddy #2 off. He jumped off the couch (trying very valiantly to keep his emotions in check), grabbed his puke bucket, and declared he was going to bed before anyone could see him cry.
He lasted less than five minutes in his bed. He came upstairs with his bucket in hand crying and hyperventilating ever so slightly. I reminded him that he had just spoken to Bugga and she was just fine! He calmed, but not enough to go to sleep. I offered him a picture of his sister to keep by the bed. (I was grasping at straws, people). He thought it might help but when I handed it to him, great sobs errupted from his very bowels. "WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THIS?!" he cried, "YOU'RE KILLIN' ME!"
I pulled out the only option I could think of. "Want to call your sister back?" Now, I'm no imbecile.I DID consider that it may make her feel guilty, but for that moment, she was Gramma's problem. My problem was crying, nauseated, and keeping me up. I dialed the phone. Buddy #2 took the receiver.
"Bugga, I'm just calling to tell you, pack your bags. Mom will be there in the morning."
Funny...I don't think it was guilt that she felt at that moment. It was more like annoyance at her imbecilic mother.
We have always stressed to our children the importance of, well, each other. We have taught them they are each other's first best friends. We have encouraged them to be kind, sweet, and gentle. Apologize and forgive. I assure you there's more apologizing and forgiving going on than kindess, sweetness, and gentleness. But they really have become each other's best friends. None of them really enjoy being apart for longer than a day.
This week we decided to send the 13 year-old for a visit to Gramma and Papa's house for a visit. She has had a lot of responsibility placed on her recently because of Hubby's injury. There have been quite a few doctor's appointments and hospital visits over the past six months for which she's had to babysit. She's also helped with the cleaning, cooking, laundry, and really anything thing else I've asked her to do. She has maintained a mostly sweet attitude and set a very good example for her younger syblings. She needed a break, not that she asked for one, I just knew she needed one. We discussed how long she would go for and when we mentioned two weeks, tears formed in her eyes. We decided on one week much to her relief. She later confided in me that while she was very excited for her little "vacation" she didn't think she could handle two whole weeks away from her family.
The Buddies and I drove her the two hours to my parents' house and dropped her off. after a bit of supper and a cup of tea I told the boys it was time to go. I'm not sure that it really sunk in that their sister would be gone for a while because in true Buddy Fashion they ran to the truck without a second thought, leaving their sister standing at the door with open arms awaiting hugs she wouldn't receive. I hugged her three times as long to make up for the rejection then headed home. That night Buddy #2 seemed a little sullen. He said he missed "Bugga" (The Buddies' knickname for their oldest sister since they've learned to speak). Me, being quite proud of my mothering skills, said, "That's good!"
It wasn't good. Yes, he loves his sister. That IS good. What was about to happen...not so much. At bed time Buddy #2 spent the first part of the night without his "Bugga" hunched over the toilet with a sick stomach. He spent the second part of the night in bed with a bucket. He said he was worried something might happen to her while he wasn't around to help her. We talked about worry, why it's silly, and Who is really in control. We quoted Scripture, prayed and he finally slept.
The next day I got the bright idea to ask my daughter to call home each night before bed to say good-night to her Buddy. Sheer genius, right?! Nope. Buddy #2 hadn't mentioned the missing link to our family all day. He was sitting quietly enjoying "Mars Needs Moms". A cute movie, lots of funny parts. Bugga called, said her goodnights, and hung up. I thought it went quite well. I gave myself a mental pat on the back and settled in for a peacful night. Then the movie took a slight turn. According to the film makers' imagination, female Martians aren't all that nice. Long story short, the earth mom almost dies to save her son. It was just enough to set Buddy #2 off. He jumped off the couch (trying very valiantly to keep his emotions in check), grabbed his puke bucket, and declared he was going to bed before anyone could see him cry.
He lasted less than five minutes in his bed. He came upstairs with his bucket in hand crying and hyperventilating ever so slightly. I reminded him that he had just spoken to Bugga and she was just fine! He calmed, but not enough to go to sleep. I offered him a picture of his sister to keep by the bed. (I was grasping at straws, people). He thought it might help but when I handed it to him, great sobs errupted from his very bowels. "WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THIS?!" he cried, "YOU'RE KILLIN' ME!"
I pulled out the only option I could think of. "Want to call your sister back?" Now, I'm no imbecile.I DID consider that it may make her feel guilty, but for that moment, she was Gramma's problem. My problem was crying, nauseated, and keeping me up. I dialed the phone. Buddy #2 took the receiver.
"Bugga, I'm just calling to tell you, pack your bags. Mom will be there in the morning."
Funny...I don't think it was guilt that she felt at that moment. It was more like annoyance at her imbecilic mother.
Comments
I wish I could capture some of that intense sibling love and concern to impart to my twins for each other. They are only competitive and not the least concerned for each other.
Count your sleepless nights a blessing.