Life Changes

I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. They had cleaned him up and handed him to me as this little package of fuzz and scrunched-up face. In our family video, I'm holding him with my sisters flanking me on either side. Ready to protect him from anything that might come our way. I couldn't believe it - my very own baby to hold and love and play with and mother. I would be the best big sister ever.

And now my baby brother is getting married! It's a very strange thing. The other night as we got our little one all bundled up out of the bath and into his jammies, I thought "I remember this." I used to do the exact same thing for my brother. At seven I was convinced he was mine. I would carry him to our room and get him in his warm, feety pajamas. I'd read him stories and sing him songs until he fell asleep. I rocked him in the rocking chair and calmed him down whenever I could. My practice-run, if you will.

We both got older and he didn't appreciate my mothering nearly as much. It was intrusive and he certainly didn't need another mommy telling him what to do. I suspect my own little guy will have plenty of moments like that when he's a teen. "Thanks Mom" dripping with sarcasm. Meaning "back off, will ya?!"

As adults we've hit upon a kind of truce. I try (really hard) not to play the mom role, and he seems to accept the big sister thing as somewhat of a necessary evil. We're learning to be friends.

And now he has another woman in his life - someone who will care for him when he's sick, encourage him when he's down, and tell him mythical stories about a key hidden in a cabinet that only he can get for the family. Well, okay - not that last part. That role I got to play. And I'm pretty sure no one will ever take that place.