I was an only child. Which I guess today makes me an only adult? I was a shy kid on a kidless block and more than anything I longed for siblings. Every summer my family would take a two week vacation and we’d never go to Hawaii or Disneyland as I had begged. Instead we would hop in the car and go on a very long car trips to places like Idaho and Wyoming or Montana. I hated them. Because this meant I would be stuck in the car for hours on end with nobody to play with me or to even fight. I’d resort to bugging my parents and if they said I was annoying them I’d always respond with, “Well if you would have had other kids I’d be bugging them not you.”
When other kids had imaginary friends I had an imaginary siblings. Before I would go to sleep at night I would imagine what my siblings where like I always imagined myself with an older sister who would drive me to go get ice cream and show me how to put on make up. I went to camp one year and told a fellow camper that I had an older sister named Tiffany and I spent the whole week telling stories about my big sister to my camper friend. (Pathetic right?) I did confess in a letter months later of my horrid lie.
I had a good friend who was the second oldest out of four. I loved going over to her house and eating big meals and jumping on her trampoline and watching her fight with her brothers. There was always something going on someone doing something and it was always loud. And I liked that. My house was always calm and quiet.
When Adam and I were first married we’d talk about how many kids we wanted and although we never decided (and still haven’t) there was one thing I knew. NO ONLY CHILDREN.
Today I am blessed with two crazy boys. There are only few moments when the house is quiet. They fight, they scream at one another and take each others toys and often I tell them they are driving me crazy. (Something which I need to stop saying. The other day I said, “You are driving me…” and Ollie said, “Crazy!”)
Then there are moments just before they fall asleep in their room and I hear them giggling or in the car when I look in the rear view mirror and they are holding hands or when they are dancing together around the house or making funny faces at each other at the dinner table. During those moments I am both sad and happy. I mourn for what I longed for as a child… but only for a second… because then I am overwhelmed with joy for I’m sure if you could look into my heart you would see it smiling.