“Is it a boy or a girl?” everyone asked when I was pregnant. I’d tell them I didn’t know and didn’t care, as long as my baby was healthy. But when I held my brand new baby up and saw she was a girl, I cried. I’d made a sister for my older girl, four years apart, just like me and my own sister.
“Oh you’ll be trying for a third now, maybe you’ll have a boy next time!” lots of people said to me afterwards. The jury’s still out on whether a third child will ever be on the cards for us (definitely not if the husband gets his way) but, I must admit, I feel more than content with my lot at having two girls. I have two beautiful girls who are lively, funny and interesting in their own right – even though one’s only seven months old. Recently though, they’ve become lively, funny and interesting TOGETHER. And now the fun stuff really begins.
Mornings on a weekday are chaotic. I’ll often mutter swear words under my breath at some point. But there are moments – little pockets of sweetness – that calm the rising stress of trying to do a million things at once before 8am. Like realising the baby’s no longer crying in her cot while I brush my teeth, and emerging from the bathroom to find my four year old reading her a story. Or hearing giggles from both girls as they bounce around my bedroom together, the four year old putting on a show just to make her baby sister laugh. It strikes me that these are the moments I’ll remember when I’m old. These are the colourful threads weaving my life together.
“Muuuuuuuuuum! She’s trying to steal my toys!” Frog will inevitably moan at various points throughout the day. “Argh! Stop annoying me!” I’ll hear as I’m trying to cook tea. But as irritating as she often finds her, Frog can’t help but chuckle as Baby Girl clambers all over her, trying to plant sticky, sucky, baby kisses all over her big sister’s face.
I’m reminded of snapshots of my own childhood: performing Kylie Minogue dances to my own baby sister who was strapped in her seat, unable to escape; the irritation when she wanted to join in with a game but would crawl all over it and wreck it instead; the proud, fierce love I felt for her overriding any petty annoyances that she’d trashed my Sylvanian Families game. Any tinge of sadness that my own girls are growing up too quickly is quelled by the excitement I feel at seeing their relationship develop. I wonder if they’ll be close, sharing clothes and gossip just like me and my own sister.
I hope so. Sisters are pretty cool.