So for a little more insight into my daily life, I thought I would introduce you to my (crazy) family.
I suppose I should start from the beginning then? So for a long time it was just my Mum, my Dad and I. When I was little, I would beg Mum for a sibling (A sister to be completely truthful), and at the time I was too young to understand, but a few years later I find out that my Mum couldn’t have anymore kids. But in her words “We’re happy with our gorgeous girl”, so we went about our lives as normal (which wasn’t very normal at all really).
However (quite) a few years laters, when I was eleven, I get suspicious that something was wrong with Mum. At first I thought “Maybe she’s sick?” or “She’s just weird”, but after a month or two, my ‘spidey’ senses kick in and I start thinking she’s pregnant. At first I was imagining the possibility of (finally) having a sibling. I wouldn’t be so bored all the time! But after a while I was getting worried, wondering if I should ask her if she’s pregnant.
One day I was at a friends house, and we made a last minute decision to have a sleepover. We had it all planed out, as you do when you’re eleven and with your two best friends. “We’ll have pizza!” and “You can borrow my clothes!”, but when I called the home phone to ask (or beg if I had to) Mum and Dad if I could stay over, Mum said no, that she had to tell me something. “She’s going to tell me she’s pregnant” were my internal thoughts. I was going to tell her I already knew, but with my friends watching me closely, and Mum’s voice sounding shaken, I thought the better of it. So when I got home, my parents sat me down, and told me that I was going to be a big sister, I was both over the moon and relieved. Finally she said it, and she wasn’t dying or anything bad.
Around seven months later, I watched my little brother being born. I know, brave eleven-year-old. But I was in awe, he was beautiful. A tiny baby human who was my brother, not anyone else’s. And I was his sister! I cut his umbilical cord, and held him as soon as I was allowed. That was when he opened his eyes for the first time, looking up at me. At the time I made some sarcastic joke that he was lucky he didn’t see Dad’s face first, other wise he might want to go back to the womb.
For the next two years he had me wrapped around his tiny phalanges. But now, as he is almost six (holy heck it’s been six years?!) he is a pain in the bum. And I pick on him, and he annoys me to no end, but if someone was to bully him, or even look at him wrong I would bury them alive (I was close to punching my eight-year-old cousin awhile ago for dunking my brother in the pool, but that’s another story).
But something I struggle with now is understanding that my brother is no longer a baby doing everything for the first time. First smile, or word, or step. He’s almost six, and he’s in school. He can read, write, and do things himself. And whilst I am mean to him, and push his buttons, I would do anything to protect him. I might (accidentally) teach him bad things, or have embedded a sarcastic attitude into him which he shouldn’t have developed for another four year, but he is my only brother. And whilst I want him to be frozen as he is forever, I can’t wait until the day I can tell his girlfriend (or boyfriend if that’s his preference) embarrassing stories about him, or make a speech at his eighteen birthday (even though I hate public speaking). Or smile at his kids who look just like he did, and shed a tear at old memories.
But, at the end of the day, he will always be my baby brother. Whether he’s a newborn, six years old, or twenty.
I’m sure I’ll share some of the hilarious things he says and does in the future, but for now, I’m going to head off. Talk to you later,