you will not always want to strangle your siblings

When one (or more) of my children comes to me with exasperation on his/her breath and a promise to sever family ties with a sibling who has been poking them with the vexing stick, I tell them they will not always feel this way. One day, if I have done my job well, they will not all be living under the same roof. Time and space will allow them to flourish into their own unique and compelling personalities. They will learn to cultivate compassion for others, even their siblings.

One day, when they begin to feel the tightening grip of grown- up responsibility and obligation, they will long for the blithe days of their youth. They will softly land in the reverie of the home and family life of their childhood, the holidays and ordinary moments of merriment. Inevitably their siblings will be woven into this anamnesis. And they will find themselves pining for a reunion with their brothers and sisters.

They doubt me each time I tell them how it will be. But, I remember life with my siblings. I remember days of irritation and resentment. I also remember a long period of apathy for one another - coexisting with minimal interest or interaction. We loved each other because our parents told us, "You must!"

It was not until I had my first baby that I understood the true value of my sister, Bug, who is 2 1/2 years younger than me. Nearly every day of the first month of his life, she showed up at my door to hold First Born Son in her arms. Our time was not filled with conversation. It was crocheted with quiet acceptance and appreciation. She gave me the gift of time-for a shower, for a meal. The fact that she understood what I needed without asking made me realize that she truly loved me- that we were beyond the place where our parents forced us into sibling servitude. This was genuine.

Bug moved away when Princess Commando was three years old. My heart broke. And ever since she left, we have been wishing her back. The moon and the stars must have heard us- we must have done something right because next week my sister and her family are moving home for good. Our family will be whole again. And finally we will be able to perform musical numbers such as this:

Happy Friday!

parting words

My sister and the boys left yesterday. There is a giant empty space that only their bodies can fill. Our family felt complete-balanced even in the chaos of cousins clamoring for each other's attention. I know that my sister and brother- in- law want to move back here. It will happen. Hopefully sooner rather than later. As we shed our parting tears yesterday, the sky opened up and it began to pour. Henry nudged me, "It looks like you wished for the wrong thing, Mom."
"How is that?"
"You wished for rain the other day, when you should have wished for Aunt Bug to stay forever."
You can rest assured, that the only wishes that will spring forth from my heart (besides good will to all mankind) are wishes to bring my sister and the boys back to Buffalo forever.

Some images from their visit:

They were sharing a snack, hence the fingers in the mouth in all of the illustrations and in this picture.

The 7 Cousins

Morning in the Sisters' Room

Today, on the way home from picking up the middle children from their summer art camp, Princess Commando entertained The Baby in the back seat by repeatedly throwing a stuffed animal at the ceiling. The Baby sounded like she was about to burst at the gut with her deep belly laughing. "Oh, Violet, I am so happy to have you," cooed Princess Commando.

Violet has been a good thing, for sure. She is a glue which bonds the other siblings in a singular commonality- an adoration of their littlest sister. The boys were always mortal enemies- always swapping the position of being on the defensive or offensive. Never content with each other's company. Never appreciative of the potential of their brotherhood. Contrarily, Henry and Princess Commando are like twins birthed 3 years apart.  They share many of the same interests, the same humor, vices, the same annoying secret language, and even a bedroom for a year. They value one another's company and find comfort in breathing the same air. With 8 years separating Princess Commando from her baby sister, we worried that our hot and cold Princess would have difficulty stepping out of the role of Baby. We could only hope that there would be love between them. And there is.


Since we have been in this house (which has been three years), we have disarranged bedrooms, bodies and belongings numerous times, mainly to accommodate the youngest member of our family. In planning for Violet's arrival, we always knew that we wanted the girls to eventually share a bedroom. It happened more quickly than we had intended. I wanted to wait until Violet was out of her crib (which I expected to be next summer). But, in June, on the first day of their summer vacation, Princess Commando requested that she be moved out of the third floor bedroom (which she had been shuffled into a year ago with Henry) and back into her old bedroom with Violet. It has worked out much more favorably than I could have imagined. I believe that the new arrangement has given Princess Commando a stronger sense of kinship with her little sister. And Violet seems much more content now that she has a room mate.

My new favorite vision is of the girls in their room in the morning. I will hear Violet "talking" which has always been my cue to retrieve her from her crib. But when I open the door, I find that the conversation is no longer one sided. Princess Commando is either draped over the railing of the crib holding her sister's hand or she is groggily answering back in whispers from her own bed. I cannot make out what they are saying- but their voices are sweet and soft and I imagine their first few moments awake to be like this:

Thank you to Princess Commando for drawing a vision of pterodactyl kittens and lizard turtles for me. Photographs were snapped while the girls were still groggy and the lighting was not quite right. I've altered them heavily in Photoshop, with many layers and my favorite smudgy finger tool.

2:40 PM

My Bookends, first born baby and last born baby



The children’s vacation has ended and school has resumed. On Sunday, we unceremoniously dismantled the Christmas tree, and removed the lights which had been strung throughout the house. Like blowing out a candle, the rooms instantly became stark and dim. It was a fairly lackluster winter break; and, the children had become punchy toward one another towards the end. But, we all had the Sunday night blues before bed. By the incessant rustling of sheets and creaking of bed frames, I could tell that they all were too unsettled to get a decent night’s rest. Monday morning I woke to read First Born Son’s Facebook post, “This is going to be a looooong week.” It does feel that way.

It is too quiet here. The Baby has been out of sorts- waking to an empty house. On Monday morning, after I released her from her crib, and changed her out of her pajamas, she toddled down the hall toward First Born Son’s room- her favorite destination. She looked pitifully heartbroken to find it empty. We had gotten into a routine of sending The Baby in to wake First Born Son. She would creep to the edge of his bed and stand on her tiptoes, peering with her giant brown eyes right into his face, until he lifted her up into his arms. She would put her head on his shoulder, smile brightly and softly breathe, “Ahhh.” 

To think that this time last year, as we awaited The Baby’s arrival, First Born Son adamantly asserted that he would not, under any circumstances, ever hold the baby. I respected his position. I knew in my heart that he would eventually fold to her charms. It took 6 months; but, it happened- on a quiet summer afternoon. I could tell that he had been working up the courage. He was acting funny, pacing the room, hands cold and clammy- incessantly sighing and swallowing as if he had a mouth full of cotton. “All right, I’m ready. But you’d better not tell anyone that I did it.” From that moment on, he was smitten. H and Princess Commando had each other. And, now, First Born Son finally had a sibling with whom he felt an intense and beautiful connection.

And, now that she has outgrown that painful colicky, non-sleeping, fragile stage, The Baby is not difficult to love at all. Her transformation over the past week has been incredible. She has been under the guidance of 3 additional mini teachers. Her list of achievements has grown at such a rapid- fire pace I find myself wondering on many occasions throughout the day, “When did she learn how to do that?” My favorite new talent is her rhythm and musicality- her ability to move and dance and imitate sounds and melodies. The dancing started with a shoulder shrug on Christmas Eve and now she has incorporated a toe tap and a little hip hula. It gets me giddy every time. And, I catch her performing a hundred times though out the day. I attribute that gift she has to her time spent with First Born Son, rocking out with him to Daft Punk in his room.

First Born Son worries about the significant age difference between The Baby and him. I see him start to pull away sometimes when he begins to feel so deliriously happy- wrapped up in a moment with her.  He was calculating her age when he will enter college and it choked him. “She will be four. And I may be going away. She won’t know me. It’s not fair.” He is afraid to invest his love for fear that she will reject him one day because she will not remember him. I try to reassure him that their bond is something that cannot be broken over distance and time. She doesn’t call out Ma Ma in reference to me- it is for her older brother, Max. She has never laid her head on my shoulder in a show of affection. She only does that for her Max. They are kindred spirits. They will be with each other forever.

I’m feeling very fortunate- in this moment- to have all four of them, idiosyncrasies and all. That feeling may change at three o’clock when they start filing in from school. For the next 20 minutes, I will revel in that gratitude.