I’ve had this one stuck in my head a lot this last week. A neighbour, struggling with their two children bickering and arguing said to me “you’re so lucky you don’t have to deal with sibling rivalry” – and my heart sunk.
I’d love to deal with it. I really would. I mean, I had a pretty awful time of it with my sister when we grew up and the teenage years kicked in. We got through it and get on fine now, and probably speak to each other much more than we did when we lived at home together. So I get it, I think I know what’s involved.
That isn’t going to happen.
Because H is just one. My body can’t take one more, and oh, by the way, I’m too old for one more.
I would love to have one more. But I know it isn’t happening. But yes, when someone says “oh you’re so lucky” I know I am – there are people out there who have no children who would love to have one. Yes, I am so lucky.
But I’m not so lucky my daughter doesn’t have a brother or sister to argue with, to drive me mad with. To steal their toys and vice versa. To read books to. To play games with. To set up the train track and play for hours. To be two little characters growing up and making me laugh at the things they’ll say to each other. To delight me with surprises and funny things.
It isn’t going to happen. I’ve made peace with that. I’ve given away and sold things to make space for the future for the three of us. H still plays all those games – Shaun is her playmate instead.
But it still hurts when someone tells me I’m lucky that I don’t have to deal with something where I have no choice.