Growing Up

As I sit here in the living room watching my kids talking with each other, I am amazed at how quickly they seem to have turned into "big kids."  I know they are only turning 8 and 10 this summer, but they aren't those little toddlers anymore.  They have real conversations.  They watch real movies, not just extended cartoons.  They read books without any help anymore.  They actually read to us instead of it being the other way around.  And it feels like I just blinked and this all happened.

I always thought my parents and grandparents were being dramatic when they said that it seems like we grew up way too fast, right before their eyes.  I never really understood that because it always felt like time stood still for me growing up.  My summer days seemed to be endless.  And magical.  And it always felt like the times between years seemed to just creep by, not like my parents described it at all.  But now that I'm a parent, it seems that they were right.  Before I knew it, my son was finishing his 3rd grade year in school and my daughter was finishing her 1st grade year.  Before I knew what hit me, my daughter was reading chapter books, and my son was writing in cursive.  Where did the time go?!?

Wasn't it just yesterday when Reesey was stuck under her bed telling us, "I need some help!" and telling Uncle Larry not to boss her?  Wasn't it just yesterday when Alex was telling us that Larry Bird pooped in his diaper and crying when we made him give back the football at the Fall Festival at church?  Didn't that just happen?  Where did my babies go?  And who gave them permission to turn into these big kids with missing teeth and extremely vivid imaginations?

One thing I am ever grateful for is the fact that my children are best friends.  They fight, don't get me wrong.  But they love each other so very much that the fighting only lasts a few moments.  I didn't have that growing up.  While Alex and Reese's arguments are an "every once in awhile" thing, my brother and I fought all the time.  Our moments of playing well with each other were more "every once in awhile."  I hate that.  We had some good times, like riding our bikes up and down Million Dollar Hill or playing football and baseball in the yard with the boys from neighboring houses.  I love those memories.  I only wish they weren't book-ended with memories of constant bickering and avoidance of each other all together.  I'm glad that Alex and Reese aren't like that.  I've tried my hardest to make sure they aren't because I didn't want Reese to grow up wishing her brother liked her or wanted to play with her, like I did.

Something that may seem odd to many is that, while my brother and I didn't get along growing up, he always had my back.  And vice versa.  If I was dealing with a jerk boyfriend, my brother would always offer to straighten him out.  He warned me not to date certain boys because he knew what they were after, even if they were some of his best friends.  When he was dealing with an awful girlfriend at school, one who was trying to spread rumors about him, I came unglued!  I walked up to her (I was a freshman; she was a junior) and told her to shut her mouth or I'd do it for her.  And I meant it.

When my basketball coach, who was also his senior class sponsor, died during my sophomore year, we shared a rare moment together in the hallway at school.  We had gotten to school a little late that day, so we didn't see everyone acting all weird and sad.  My first hour class happened to be Coach Kennedy's sophomore English class.  When a fellow student asked if I'd heard the news, I was devastated.  I had to leave the classroom because I couldn't keep myself composed.  When I walked out into the hallway, I looked up to see my brother at the other end.  I walked to him, no words being spoken, and we ended up just standing there hugging.  I knew what he was thinking.  He knew what I was thinking.  Neither one of us said a word.  It wasn't a long embrace, but it is one of the most meaningful experiences I've had with my brother.  Ever.  We were never affectionate with each other, but it felt so natural to me at the time.  He probably doesn't even remember that moment, but it is etched in my brain just as clear as if it happened yesterday.

When I found out I was pregnant with Alex, he called me to see how I was doing.  He played that quintessential "big brother" role, telling me that I didn't have to do anything I didn't feel comfortable with, and that he would support any decision I made.  It meant everything to me to know he had my back yet again.

I just see siblings who are incredibly close to each other, and always have been, and I'm extremely jealous.  I wish that we had that relationship.  I love my brother.  I always have.  I've always wanted him to like me, to be proud of me.  I'll just settle for helping my children to be that way for each other.  I don't want them to doubt the other's feelings.  I want them to know for sure that the other loves them, is proud of them.  And if my brother and I ever get to a point in our adult relationship where we have a more consistent relationship, one with more frequent conversation or visits, then I will count myself incredibly blessed.  If not, I'll know what I know.  I've come to terms with the fact that we have the relationship we're going to have.  I will always have his back, and I know he'll always have mine.  No questions asked.  We may not talk much.  We may not see each other very often.  But he's my big brother, and I can always count on him if I ever get into a situation where I need him.  And vice versa.