Meredith’s Musings

SISTER’S SHADOW article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

Typical Saturday morning scenario - Big Sister bangs into our bedroom first, cradling a stuffed pig and a lamb. She crawls up the bench at the foot of our bed, throws Fluffy Oink Oink and Lamby over the footboard, and giggles relentlessly as she snuggles between her father and me. Our dog Lulu readjusts under the covers to make room for an extra pair of legs, albeit shorter ones. She asks, “What are we doing today?” as she knows weekends make routines evaporate, an early luxury that children appreciate. She knows Mom always has a plan, detailed the night before with Husband. We might have an hour under the covers, we might have two minutes, but inevitably, another intruder will come barging through the door, no stuffed friends and a scowl on her face. Little Sister has risen, and the day begins.

I grew up in a house where I was Big Sister. My little sister and I were completely different in perspective and interests, though our demeanors mirrored one another. My children are not like this. While they look alike, and often are mistaken for twins, they come from different worlds and collided in this one. Big Sister is loveable, outgoing, a defiant footstomper, and blazes a path and screams at injustice around every corner - granted her scope of injustice is Little Sister playing with “her” toy, but still. Big Sister is predictable, much like myself. We are self-centered, yet tender-hearted, blunt, and call spades as we see them - though when someone points out our sharp edges, we scoff. How dare someone use or own wisdom against us?

Little Sister takes up space as well, though quietly and with less mess. She can often be found playing in a corner, systematically taking something apart only to put it back together again. She rarely requires praise, unlike Big Sister who demands life’s performance be acknowledged at every turn. Little Sister does not welcome affection, turns her nose up to kiss requests, and halfway submits to hugs. She loves from a distance. When she does crawl in a lap for comfort, inevitably her eyes will soon close. She does not aim to please, refuses to accommodate the desires of others, and will not be shamed. When she does cry, it is the result of physical pain or simple exhaustion. She has feelings, but rebukes sharing them willingly. I jokingly tell people that Little Sister is from another planet. I don’t speak her language or understand her motivations. And naturally, she is the most intriguing of our two little girls.

Over the last year, as Big Sister approaches five years and Little Sister approaches three, the girls play more together. And where there is play, there is conflict. We have this bay window in the kitchen that provides a panoramic view of the back yard. Often, when I look up, one Sister is whacking the other. My late attention prohibits knowledge of the origin of the disagreement. More times than not, I observe, letting the girls work it out themselves. This can be hard, and one Sister will cry and stumble to the back door to protest unfair treatment, submitting to defeat. Due to size difference, one would think Little Sister makes the most back door appearances, but one would be surprised. Little Sister can hold her own and land a solid punch.

This past year as Big Sister attended preschool, I enjoyed more oneon-one time with Little Sister, a rarity for a second child. From birth, a sibling exists in the shadow of the one who came first. I try to stay aware of this, giving Little Sister individualized attention that Big Sister takes for granted. Little Sister and I developed our own routine, grocery store runs on Friday mornings and park dates in the afternoon. We share a loathing of temperatures over 90 degrees and unanimously announce we’ve had enough of the outdoors relatively soon. While Big Sister is the spitting image of her mother and speaks her mother’s language, Little Sister is emerging from her shadow, creating her own space, and developing her own voice. I always wondered if sibling differences were due to nature or nurture. Are they unique because we are all individuals, or does the second child swerve toward the unfilled space in a family? How much of becoming ourselves is simply a reaction to those who came before?

We don’t live life in a vacuum. People make the world a place worth inhabiting, and people are works in progress. One of the benefits of parenting, when one has the time to notice, is observation - the cliché being to see the world through a child’s eyes - “to see” being the key term. We don’t get to do childhood over again, but we do get to watch others go through it for the first time. We observe the shadow makers and the shadow fillers from outside the circle, realizing how small and how large it all is at the same time. But the beauty of observation coupled with personal experience is scope. Little Sister may always stay in the shadows. She may even steal the spotlight. Or she may be brave enough to ignore the pressures of comparison all together. From my vantage point, it really doesn’t matter, for where there are shadows, there is always light.