This post is a tribute to my sister Sharon without who I would be lost.
Probably. SHE would like to think so.
I am the oldest of of three girls, and the last of them to give birth. By the time my daughter arrived, I was hugely skeptical of any parenting advice that didn’t come from Dr. Sears or Babycenter, and dismissed that of most people who had already had kids. Most importantly, I had absolutely written off just about anything my sister had to say as I had developed…opinions…on her parenting decisions over the years.
Her classic retort to my disdainful accusations was always:
“Hey! They’re still alive aren’t they?”
And yet, now both my children have been dropped, fallen, climbed on things they shouldn’t and eaten the not edible: and they have lived to create havoc another day. I have finally reached a point where I have become a little more relaxed about their general ability to bounce back from almost everything. While I am by no means cocky and do my best, sadly, I have given up hope of perfect mommy-hood and turned my back on being one featured in Parents magazine.
In point of fact, I have after a few narrow misses (saving my son from death by stairs and pulling my daughter off the chandelier) started using some of her favorite phrases. In response to my husband’s pointed, judging glare ( after I rescued the baby by one foot before he plummeted like a lemming off the side of the bed) I found myself yelling
“Hey! He’s still alive, isn’t he?!”
To which my very supportive husband drily replied:
“so far anyway…”
I take comfort in this, somehow – that children are resilient and designed for survival even when my mothering skills are sub-par or I miss the occasional immediate diaper change. My sister’s darn-near-adult children (and truthfully wonderful, giving kids) are old enough to drive and babysit my kids ( which they do frequently)and one is in her second year of college. If hers have turned out so well there must be hope for mine.
The Mischief of Minions 