The succession of siblings
Yet another friend has announced, tears of anguish flowing from her eyes while she tries to pay a petrol attendant with hugs, that she’s expecting another child. Her fourth. Or fifth. You lose count after one. It was ‘completely unexpected’. Sure. My child remembering to flush the toilet is unexpected. My husband driving in the left-hand lane is unexpected. But this has quite the expected outcome. Especially the fourth (or fifth) time round.
But it’s ok, you tell her (while simultaneously blocking her number on your phone before you get the dreaded ‘baby sprinkle’ invite), it’s just more to love. More stretch marks. More debt. More unflushed toilets. And your children are going to be so excited with another sibling! That’s what you have to say, but here’s the reality for the newcomer. It’s tough going in the succession of siblings…
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The parents are tired – sure – but they’ve finally created life. What a miracle! It’s so miraculous that almost everyone is doing it. The proud parents have spent months preparing for this moment. Painted and decorated a room for the baby (who is inevitably going to sleep in the parents’ room anyway)… Put the child’s name down at the most expensive school in town and paid the non-refundable deposit… Gone to the antenatal classes and watched that excruciating moment when some deranged woman chooses to give birth on camera. From the moment that child first farts, through to that unfathomable cake-smashing tradition, every step of this child’s life is carefully documented and scrapbooked.
Only the best for this little treasure! #Blessed.
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The parents are getting into their stride, and while actual parenthood is a lot less ‘The Cosby’s’ and a lot more ‘Married with Children’, there are hazy pockets of happiness. And then comes the second child – well, siblings are so important aren’t they? Just ask the Menendez brothers. They got up to all sorts of hijinks together! If the second child is the same gender (or chooses to be the same gender) as the older sibling – great! S/he/it can wear the hand-me-downs so the parents are getting some real mileage out of the clothes. If the second child isn’t the same gender – too bad!
S/he/it will still be wearing the same clothes. Some milestones will be recorded… Many will be missed. The scrapbook is starting to look a bit sparse. And the second child will undoubtedly live in the shadow of the first child while constantly avoiding being pinned down and farted on when the parents aren’t looking. Which is often. #DoubleBlessed
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‘I always wanted three children, then I had two, and I realised I only wanted one’ – Every parent.
The third child is a fighter who soon realises it’s survival of the fittest if you’re going to make it in this world. The first child resents yet another drain on the household resources, and the second child has now been bumped to the unenviable position of ‘middle child’. So, the third child has to develop an edge – a sporting ability… a sense of humour… a bloodlust. Something to set them apart and keep them alive in the wilderness. They’re incredibly self-sufficient as the parents have pretty much booked out by this point. #WhatsHisName
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This child can’t tell whether its siblings are its parents, and whether its parents are actually grandparents as they’ve aged so dramatically in a decade. Photographs of this child are non-existent. Birthday cakes consist of a candle lunged into an unsliced loaf of bread, and they’re unsure of their own identity as the parents have taken to giving them numerical identification rather than actual names. This child finds happiness in the things money can’t buy. Because there isn’t any. #ShouldveStoppedAtOne.