My kids fight.
Oh my goodness, how they fight. Of course, it is no surprise. Both kids are stubborn and head strong.
The other morning my kids were fighting hardcore over Peppa driving the Marshall’s fire truck. If you are no stranger to the land of toddlers, then you know how huge this is.
“Sister, NO!” Landon yelled from the other side of the living room as Jessilynn placed Peppa inside the red truck and drove it down the hallway.
It was only a matter of time before hair was pulled and screams from both kids filled the house.
The whole thing brought my mind back to a much earlier time in my life when I would engage in similar behavior with my own siblings. There was this one particular incident that comes to mind immediately.
Right now, as he is reading it (because what brother doesn’t read his sister’s weekly column, right, Daniel?) and he is laughing because he knows exactly what I am about to bring up — the pink teacup incident.
It was a hot afternoon sometime in the early nineties. I was innocently playing with my new pink tea set on the front porch. Coming from out of nowhere, my brother runs by and steals one of my pink tea cups. My screams could have been heard all the way at the bottom of the mountain.
Unfortunately, Momma was in no mood for this nonsense. Understandably so, the heat index was at least 90 and we grew up without the luxury of air conditioning. She came running out the door, and I’ll be darned if I didn’t get a whoopin’ (Momma’s name to a quick smack in the bum) that afternoon. Daniel, with his long legs, ran too far to receive his punishment, and even though I demand it every time we are all together, has still never received his whoopin’ for his part in the commotion.
To be fair, as a little girl, I was the queen of ornery and most of the time, it was me causing the drama. My siblings would say this is still true today. If you have ever been around my daughter and I for more than five minutes than I have probably at some point discussed how absolutely terrible she is and I may have even tried to give her to you. I keep it no secret that my daughter is quite the flame to be tamed. As hard as it is for me to admit it, she gets all her adorable orneriness from yours truly.
My sister is reading this (because any good sister wakes up first thing in the morning on her sister’s daily column day and heads over to York News-Times, right?) and she is wondering if I’m going to publicly admit to the ultimate heartache I brought to her as a young girl.
Growing up, my sister loved her Barbie collection. Those little dolls were her pride and joy, and she NEVER let me play with them. I was sneaky though, and it only took once for me to sneak my way into her room to her collection. Somehow I managed to smuggle in a pair of scissors too, which led to my giving all her Barbies “better” hair styles. Apparently, my sister didn’t agree with my alterations. Needless to say, it didn’t go well, but I did manage to avoid the whoopin’ that time.
Looking back on it, my goodness, I was mean. I tortured my older siblings, yet they all still managed to continue loving me. There was a time in my life that I didn’t imagine I would ever go a day without seeing or talking to them. We were each five years apart, so my sister was a whole 10 years older than me, but we grew up close. We took care of each other. Sometimes I can’t believe how we all live our separate lives these days. We go months without more than a quick snapchat, and we even go years without seeing each other. When my brother and I got together this summer, it was the first time in over two years that we had seen each other and a year since I had seen my sister. As a little girl stuffed full of orneriness and an endless supply of sibling pranks, I would have never imagined that adulthood with my siblings would unfold that way.
With that being said, it doesn’t matter how long it has been. When we get together, we always pick up exactly where we left off. Within seconds we are gathered around Momma’s table drinking all her wine and making jokes to get Momma all worked up. I guess that is the beauty of a sibling relationship. It can survive no matter the time and the miles.
As hard as it is being a fulltime referee to my toddlers, I am so happy that they have each other and always will. I’m excited to watch their relationship change and bend over time, and I know for sure that they’ll have many childhood war stories to share at the dinner table many, many years in the future. There is nothing quite like the bond we have with our sisters and brothers. As my heart is still aching from saying my goodbyes over a week ago after an entire summer spent back home with my siblings, I am finding that appreciation more than ever these days. Love you, Emmers and Brubby!