I’ve been an older sister since I was two years old, which meant that I had a responsibility before I was even fully potty-trained. Back then, there were only a handful of people in my life: mom, dad, sister, grandma/grandpa, auntie/uncle. (Those are the only people I remember at least.) When my little sister first got here, I was very interested in her. Interested, but wary. She wasn’t going to be taking away any of my toys and these were my parents. As we got a little older, things started to go slightly awry. She wanted to do all the things I did, play with all the same friends, be involved in all the same sports and activities— and I really didn’t think I enjoyed that.
Since I was young, I’ve always been a relatively independent person as far as my family is concerned. I like to do my own stuff on my own time. This became increasingly difficult as our family got bigger and the “responsibility,” which I didn’t understand at the time of course, got larger. When I was seven, my first little brother was born. At this point I was older, I had mostly come to terms with my sister as long as she didn’t touch any of my things, and I was ready to take on the full role of being a protective older sister. I took photos of him, played with him, fed him, helped with changing a diaper. I was basically a second mom, right?
Wrong.
Like any kid growing up in a family with multiple people, I went through a few—possibly several— years of a selfish phase. I mean, at thirteen years old, why was I expected to watch them all the time? Do you and dad really have to go out to do those things? What about grandma? I went through the "I don’t want to clean my room but I do want to watch Disney movies all day and eat snacks" period of my life. As we all do, of course.
Whether I was ready for it or not, I was getting older. I moved on to high school at fourteen and, to me, this meant that I shouldn’t have a curfew and that I could walk everywhere with my friends. I still didn’t really want to help out at home and I didn’t want to do my own laundry until I was fifteen years old. In spite of my always fantastic relationship with my mom, my middle school years and first two years of high school were times of small-scale rebellion and teenage angst. And by rebellion I mean watching a few things on my laptop I shouldn’t have and talking to people online that my mom didn’t agree with. In any case, I was getting older but not necessarily more mature. Then, my youngest brother was born the year I turned sixteen.
Almost all sixteen-year olds, particularly females, are overly emotional and self conscious. They’re still deciding if it’s okay to been seen with their parents and are definitely not capable of making good relationship choices. I got my license and was just starting to get a little taste of freedom, when BAM. I was stuck watching the baby all the time. At first I really enjoyed watching him. He was super cute, fairly easy-going, and didn’t require too much effort to look after. As he started getting older, though, his temperament did a 180 and he turned into a monstrous toddler. It was at this point that I realized I wasn’t having kids until I was at least, like, thirty years old.
Throughout my childhood, being an older sister always meant being the role model. It meant that I was held at certain standards and then all children that came after me were then compared to this standard. I was expected to mature the fastest so I could hurry up and be responsible enough to pleasantly deal with all of the added stress of having multiple siblings while still being perfect in school and having friends so I wasn’t anti-social. These expectations came not only from my parents, but from other family members who didn’t have kids my age and expected a certain level of perfection. For the longest time I believed these sets of expectations, which of course weren’t at all unreasonable and I’ve grown to really appreciate the goals my family set for me throughout the years. In fact, it wasn’t until I got to college that I finally realized that always having to be the best and work the hardest did affect me.
I’m currently on the verge of turning twenty years old and I now see my siblings and my role as the oldest sister in an entirely different way than I have at any other point in my life. I no longer live with my family, I’m entering my senior year in college, and our interactions now are different due to this. Now when I’m at my parents’ house, it’s a visit, so it’s exciting and everyone misses me, and at the end of the day I’ll grab my purse and head back home. It wasn’t until last night that I realized that this type of interaction makes a difference. Not living with my family and not spending nearly 24/7 time with them has allowed me to see them more objectively and appreciate their individual traits and personalities. At this point in my life, I’ve learned enough to be able to whole-heartedly share my experiences and knowledge with my almost eighteen-year-old sister without insisting that I know everything or that I have experienced something that she can’t. At this point I can look at my twelve-year old brother and know that I went through that really annoying phase, too, and that what he really needs right now is a stern kick in the butt to get him to realize that he has potential. I can now take a few seconds to calm down when my newly five-year old brother is going literally insane and try to have a rational conversation with him about his behavior rather than attempting to throw one of his toys at him because he refuses to stop slamming them on the floor—though this option at times is still tempting.
What I’ve really learned from being an older sister is how to live life with and for other people. I’ve learned how to have empathy and think with compassion at the forefront of my mind. I’ve learned that life means not doing what you want to do most of the time, but it also means feeling that rewarding feeling of helping others and doing it without complaint or resentment.
Growing up with a lot of people tests your patience. It pushes you to be the best you can be not just for yourself, but for the benefit of a good example. Being the oldest and having the good fortune of being successful also allows you to come to terms with the fact that they don’t have to achieve what you do, they just have to achieve what they want to or are capable of doing. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how thankful I am for getting the experience of growing up with multiple siblings, the best parents, and the chance to understand what it is to be responsible for other people on a different level. For all of you siblings out there, good luck and enjoy it.
