Sisters

Okay, you know how sometimes you have this blissful dream. You awake and say to yourself "How lovely. If only it could come true." And then you set about to make it come true.

Only, once it's true you realize what an absolutely foolish moment of insanity it was for you to comtemplate that the blissfulness of a dream would match the reality of the situation.

So, keeping that in the back of your mind while you read this, picture me telling Brian "I refuse to have an only child. They never learn how to share their toys or relate to others." Why did I not see that the method of learning how to share and relating to others included a parent standing over them 24 hours a day 7 days a week with a pitchfork in hand demanding of them that they MUST share their stupid toys, and they MUST quit arguing and whining, or SURELY their mother WOULD go insane?

Oh wait . . . that's me . . . and I am INSANE.

So we have this wonderful gift from God called a "Behavior Contract." We, the darling parents, contract with our children, little gifts from God, that, upon their active participation in the appropriate heart attitudes and actions of the Contract, they will be rewarded beyond measure with an overflowing bosom full of delightfulness also known as Chocolate Drumsticks, Rocket Pops, and other varieties of "Obedience Treats" and withheld from the suffering of the dreaded "Boring Little Stool" in the Time Out Area (aka the pit of despair). We get the latest version of the amazing "Behavior Contract" all organized, implemented, and operational and VOILA a new trick of treachery and deceit pops out of the little gifts from God to wow us with the utter foolishness bound up in their very tiny hearts. And then we have to start all over with the crazy cycle of identifying the top three issues we are working on, matching it with appropriate rewards / consequences, teaching it, reviewing it, enforcing it, teaching it, reviewing it, enforcing it, etc, etc, ad naseum.

So here's the newest little trick of treachery and deceit popping out all over my nice clean house - arguing between the two little angels about who is right, who touched it first, who touched it last, who's it actually is, who needs it most, who needs it least, who breathed on it last, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, until the Mother standing over them surely WILL GO INSANE!!!!

I look at my sister and think lovely endearing thoughts. I remember nothing of the arguing that I witness on a daily basis. My mother may have different memories. I think of my sister and think of how God has especially blessed her, and how I do not want what she has, I will not want what she has, and I don't care if she touched it first, touched it last, actually owns what I want, needs it more than I do, needs it less than I do, or breathed on it and thus making it hers. She can have it! I LOVE her, so I will not react selfishly toward my sister. But that has been 31 years in the making. Although my mother may disagree that these have been 31 years of sheer blissful obedience!

How can my two darling angels look at each other, and not see the sister who their mother painfully brought to life, dangerously grew in her belly, and dramatically birthed just so that they would not be "only children who do not know how to share their toys or relate to others"?

Somedays lately, since this has only begun lately, I feel that the dream . . . my beautiful blissful dream of two daughters running in a field together with the wind through their curly blonde locks, combing each other's long flowing hair with flowers of the field, and embracing each other's ideals during long passionate conversations is a whiff of fairy dust. But then I think, I maybe do remember a cat fight here or there with my sister, and we've turned out pretty fine.

She's my hero, and I really don't want anything she has even if I DID breathe on it last.