One of our family’s most painfully memorable experiences of sibling conflict—immortalized in this column years ago—had to do with Molly chasing Katie up the stairs, and Katie darting into her room and slamming the door on Molly’s finger. The howl Molly let loose shook the house and shook us into thinking that the appendage had been severed.
While bent and misshapen, Molly’s finger, miraculously, was still attached to the rest of her hand and the bones were intact. I can’t remember the alleged transgression that precipitated that unfortunate series of events, but I do remember the intense “she said-she said” nature of the pitched battle.
Fast forward to the holiday season just ended, with Katie home from her marketing job in San Francisco and Molly in from her studies in London—in completely opposite directions (it was the same in college: one headed north, the other south). However, this time, there was a difference. No squabbling between them.
For the entire two weeks they overlapped. I would say this would have been something of a Christmas miracle in the past, but Katie had a more realistic explanation: “Mom, I think Molly and I have evolved into our adult relationship.”
Wow. I knew this day had to arrive sometime, though there were times, quite honestly, in their childhood, that I wondered when the sisterly sparks would stop flying and they would develop a calmer, more understanding bond. Glory Hallelujah. The day is here and it was worth the wait.
Other relationships in the family had evolved as well. While they’ve always doted on Will as their baby brother, Katie and Molly both carved out “alone time” with their sibling to catch up on more substantive subjects as peers, away from the curious ears of their parents.
Will himself is on the verge of a major new life stage: he just turned 18, he graduates from high school in June, and then in September, he becomes the last of the baby birds to fly the nest for college and beyond. It will be a bittersweet period for us.
‘I wondered when the sisterly sparks would stop flying and they would develop a calmer, more understanding bond.’
There is a joy and indulgence in being the baby of the family and the only boy, but there is also a pressure that comes from meeting parental expectations when you are the lone child at home. So when his sisters come home to diffuse the attention and turn the numbers solidly from a 2-1 to one ratio in favor of the parents to 3-2 in favor of the children, well, that can be considered an opportunity to catch your breath.
It’s also gratifying when you see your parenting paying off. In the “olden days” I’d have to admonish the girls to help with chores—setting or clearing the table, washing dishes, walking the dogs, straightening the house, taking the dry cleaning, picking up staples at the grocery. This time, again, in the spirit of a holiday miracle, all of these things got done and I never once had to ask.
Of course they’ve been doing some of these things all along, but it’s the first time I can remember all the kids being on the same page and making my life easier. This was true even when it came to booking travel for later this year. Buying plane tickets and coordinating hotel stays with school breaks was always my sole responsibility, one I often found tedious and stressful.
Katie invited Will to come out to meet her in the Rocky Mountains for a skiing trip, and lo and behold, she figured out the itinerary with him, calling me in only to plug in the credit card for his fare. Molly worked out the details of his visit to London around his class and lacrosse schedule, figuring out the one window that would work. I didn’t have to bother my head with any of the logistics, and I was happy to relinquish this task. My children are indeed growing up and the workflow has switched direction in a way that makes our lives as parents much easier.
However, the same has happened in my relationship with my parents as their child. Much as my children are taking more care of me, I have to take on more of the care for my mother and father in ways that are starting to break my heart. My mom, the sprightly and energetic caretaker of my dad, has now started to slow down as well, something I just noticed last week.
I actually never thought I would see this day arrive. She’s always been the stronger of my parents. Now it’s not just worrying whether she’s remembered to turn off the burner on the stove.
There are bigger questions looming: can they stay in their house, can my dad continue to drive, how can I help them coordinate their medical care and make sure they stay as healthy as possible? What happens if they don’t?
It is life’s irony as well as the responsibility of the sandwich generation that just as your children start taking care of you, you start taking care of your parents. It is, however, as it should be. My parents gave me everything, for which I am forever grateful. Now it’s my turn.
suburban mom,
