In the first picture, I am two and one half; Joe is one. In the second I am four, Andrew is six months. In the third picture, I am seven; Bob is newborn. In the fourth picture, I am 12; Gerard is 1. Next I am 13; Brian is one month. The last picture was taken when I was 14.
Studying the pictures, I understand family dynamics much better. It has always seemed that sibling relationships matter more to me, that I try harder to keep the family connected. Being both the oldest and the only girl seems central. I was my adult height when my two younger brothers were born; they were only 5 and 7 when I left home for college. I must have seemed a quasi-maternal figure to them. We did not grow up in the same family. My mother returned to school full-time when Brian was 5; when he was 7, she started teaching high school. Joe, Andrew, and I had had a stay-at-home mother until we went to college. Brian doesn't remember my mom staying at home full-time. My father retired before Brian finished college.
We have very different perceptions of our parents. Joe, Andrew, and I remember our dad as a brilliant intellectua and mathematician; Gerard and Brian remember an old man who disappeared into Alzheimer's Disease. The three oldest remember our childhood perceptions of my mom as "just a housewife" who never went to college. My younger brothers remember her the way her obituary describes her: "teacher, activist, trailblazer."
With the death of my mom, Joe is my only source of family history. Unfortunately Joe was too busy climbing on top of the roof to remember very much. I realize I could write family fiction and convince everyone it is family history.
John and I struggled against our inclination to favor Anne in sibling squabbles, because she, like us, was the oldest of several siblings. John and I were both the oldest children of oldest children of oldest children--not the best recipe for marital harmony. Certainly Anne shows the same sense of responsibility for her younger siblings that I felt. John, Anne, and I thought younger siblings owe considerable gratitude to the oldest, who has fought all the battles necessary to whip parents into shape.
In my constant discussions with friends about baby spacing, I noticed that adult relationships with your siblings greatly influence you. If you love your sibs, you might think a brother or sister is the best gift you will give your kids. If you don't talk to each other, you will feel guilty about the trauma you are inflicting on the oldest. As people only have two children, there will only be a younger and an older. Middle children seem to have special gifts society will sorely lack. When I told 6 year old Michelle, I was pregnant with Carolyn, she rejoiced, "Now I won't be the only middle child."
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2 comments:
I thought middle children were the screwed up ones (with all due respect to middle chidren everywhere, yours included). What special gifts do they have?
Dear Cinnamon Gurl,
I would be fascinated to know why you perceive middle children as the screwed up ones. Probably because I am the oldest, of two oldest children, who married an oldest child, I perceive the oldest as the most screwed up:) What's your birth order?
My middle children are definitely not screwed up as adults, though they might have had a rougher time as children. I tended to attribute that more to their unique personalities and gifts, rather than to their birth order. My second daughter excels at getting her way by charming people; wherever Michelle is, there are gales of laughter. She has more friends than she can possibly keep up with. My third daughter, Rose, the writer, has remarkable integrity; she is true to her own gifts and vision no matter what anyone thinks. I am hard put to come up with a generalization that describes both Michelle and Rose.
I came from a family of 6. I always considered my brother Bob, 7 years younger, no. 4 in the family, to be the middle child. He got more of my mom's attention because there were four years between him and child no. 3, 3 years between him and child no. 5. Bob is the sunniest, most popular, most outgoing one of us all, the only one who is musically talented. My first husband came from my family of 5; his brother, the middle child, did have a harder time.
Being the middle child of 3 might be very different than being the middle of 4, 5, or 6.
Birth order has always interested me, but I have never developed comfortable generalizations.
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