- My parents obviously believed that pregnancy was not to be discussed with children, so I was totally caught off guard when my dad informed me that I had become a big sister overnight.
- My dad actually came home from the hospital to get me ready for school. ( I was a first grader.) He threw open the blinds and turned on all the lights in my bedroom, whereas my mom would always wake me with a kiss and a gentle shake. I was quite peeved with his failure to follow morning protocol.
- When my dad finally told me I had a baby sister, I jumped out of bed and onto the bed. I jumped and jumped. This was such exciting news.
- I couldn’t wait for my mom and my sister to return home from the hospital. I filled every vase in the house with asters from my mom’s flower bed. The florist delivered a huge arrangement of pink roses, but I am certain that the quantity of asters was more impressive than the quality of those roses.
- Several days later, I started to miss my status as only-child-center-of-everyone’s-universe, and I told my parents to send my sister back to where she came from.
- I may have been 6, but I wasn’t that ignorant. I knew the stork really didn’t deliver my sister, and I pleaded with my mom to tell me the details of how my sister came out. My mom staunchly refused to tell me anything. We didn’t have the mother-daughter talk about how babies are born until I was in high school. And I am still waiting for the mother-daughter talk about how babies are made.
- I was jealous of my sister’s big blue eyes. (And yes, I still am.) But the fine hair on her head was dark, to my delight, so ensuring that I would be the only one in our nuclear family with that much-desired and far-superior blonde hair.
- But then I realized that I WAS the only one in the family with blonde hair. My sister’s coloring matched my mom’s, while my hair and eyes matched no one’s! Oh my God, I was probably adopted.
- Since we were six years apart in age, I quickly recognized that Sister wasn’t ever really going to be a playmate. But no matter–instead, I could be her protector, her provider of entertainment, and her boss. (And yes, old habits die hard. I am still her boss.)
- My mom had been given a slightly-creepy statue of St. Gerard as a baby shower gift. (St. Gerard is the patron saint of pregnant women, which baffles me–were there no female saints available for this job?) Once Mom tucked the statue into a drawer and off the dresser, I realized that this happy and healthy blessing of a baby was here to stay.
- None of the gifts coming to the house were for me. Not a single one. But now I know that my baby sister, Sophie, was far and away the best, most precious Christmas gift my parents ever gave me. (Do the math–count back 9 months.) (HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY, SOPHIE!)
Monica Lists 