On being the big sister

I fully intended to work on my freelance project for a couple hours straight last night, and then watch the Heroes season finale on the DVR later. But just before 9, Tony started talking to me, and that was all the distraction it took for me to abandon my project and watch the show live.

During the first (or maybe the second) commercial break, Tony's cell phone rang. "We're not here--we're watching Heroes," I said.

He looked at the caller ID and then tossed the phone to me. I glanced at it, and saw that it said "Sara's parents." I smiled. "I'll bet it's Pete," I said. He's as much of a fan of Heroes as I am.

Sure enough, it was him, and we both spoke quickly and animatedly until I cut us off by saying, "OK, it's almost back--gotta go." We talked during a couple more commercial breaks too, mostly saying things like, "Holy cow! Did you see that? That was awesome! Wait, what does that mean?"

Just before the show ended (it ran a couple minutes past 10), my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my brother Dave, who rarely calls me. I pushed a button to make it stop ringing, and finished watching the show. Once the show was over, I called Pete, and we spent a good 15 minutes or so rehashing the show and specualting about next season. Then I told Pete I needed to go so I could call Dave back. He hadn't left a message, but like I said, he rarely calls me, so I was curious.

I got a hold of him, and told him I had seen that he had called. "Yeah, we just got done watching 24, and swtiched to NBC. When I saw that Heroes was on, I told Jess, 'I'm going to call Sara and see if she picks up.'" He laughed.

"You brat," I replied.

We got to talking, and when I asked him how his OB/GYN rotation was going (he's in his 3rd year of med school), that launched a lengthy conversation. He told me about how he's been able to witness 4 births, and how he's told Jess, "Are you sure you want to do this?" (No, they're not pregnant now, but they are planning to start trying fairly soon.) I yelled at him for scaring Jess, of course, and our conversation kept flowing. He told me he's done a lot of prenatal checkups too.

"Ooh, have you done any ultrasounds?" I asked.

"No. But I've done other things--you know, like when they measure the stomach in centimeters, to check the size of the uterus..."

"Yeah--the fundal height," I interjected.

"Yes." He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "Well, you know, I didn't want to use the technical terms and confuse you or anything..."

I probably should have been insulted, but since it was coming from my little brother, my natural response was to tease him. "What--you think I went through 9 months of pregnancy and didn't learn any 'technical terms'?"

We talked for a little while longer (and I asked to talk to Jess too, simply to tell her not to let Dave scare her, but then she and I ended up talking for a little while), but when I got off the phone, my mind kept going back to that little piece of our conversation.

There are moments when it seems so odd to me that my siblings are adults. I suppose youngest children don't feel that way--to them, their older siblings have always been more grown-up--so maybe this is something to unique to oldest children. I still think of Dave as my little brother--that little boy who loved to annoy me. But the reality is that he is a 3rd-year med student, less than a year away from earning the title "doctor." He's been married for almost 3 years now. Will I ever look at him as an adult, or will I always see him through the rose-colored glasses of childhood innocence?

I was 3 when he was born--in fact, I turned 3 only 8 days before he was born. The only thing I remember about his birth was visiting him in the hospital one time. When he was born, he had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck 3 times and he wasn't breathing, so my first view of him was from far away. Through a glass window I saw him lying on a table with monitors taped to his tiny body. I remember asking the person with me (I think it was my grandmother?) why he had all those "beepers" all over his body.

My mom said I was the perfect big sister--I didn't act jealous, and I treated him like he was a live baby doll. Two years later, Steve arrived, and one year after that, Mary was born. Steve and I always got along so well when we were younger--I called him my "Cuddlebuster" because he loved to cuddle with me. For a long time, it was just the 4 of us, and it seemed like Steve and I gravitated toward each other, and Dave and Mary did the same. The odd thing is that when you look at the 4 of us (though we all look a lot alike), Steve and I resemble each other the most, and Dave and Mary look a lot like each other.

There was a 7-year gap before Peter came along. I was 13 when he was born, so I vividly remember his babyhood/childhood--I remember changing his diapers, feeding him his bottles, proudly showing off his pictures to my junior-high friends. I was the resident babysitter for my 4 younger siblings, and I didn't mind too much. I was even the one who witnessed Peter's first steps while my parents were out one night--that was an amazing moment. As he grew up, he became a fiesty 4-year-old who talked like a teenager (thanks to all his older siblings).

And now, Peter is 17. I sometimes have to remind myself that he is not the helpless baby he once was--he is thisclose to being an adult himself, just like my other siblings. I loved talking with him on the phone last night--both of us yelping excitedly about the show, exchanging theories, explaining things to each other. But more than just discussing the show, I loved having such a real conversation with him. I can talk to him almost like I would talk to any friend--about TV shows, movies, etc. He often stays with us when my parents go out of town, and we always have a great time. It doesn't feel at all like babysitting--just like having a friend hanging out for a while. He is one year away from graduating high school, heading off to college, and beginning his journey into adulthood.

My brother Steve recently joined the Air Force, and is now in language school, learning Arabic as part of his training to become a linguist. He is married, and he was the first of all of us siblings to have a baby (though he only beat me by 2 1/2 months). My mom got a DVD that showed some of his time in boot camp, and she recently showed it to me and Tony. There were a few times where you could clearly see his face, and he looked so official, so serious, so... grown up. Later, we watched a video from his graduation ceremony, and seeing him in his uniform was such a stirring sight. He is no longer my little Cuddlebuster.

And then there's Mary. She got married almost 2 years ago and I was her maid of honor (and she was mine, almost 9 years ago). I look at our relationship now and just have to smile, because we are such great friends--but if you had told me we would be when I was a child, I would have laughed. She is 6 years younger than me, so when we were children, that meant she was too young to really be a close friend, but the perfect age to be that annoying little sister. I remember countless times I complained to my mom about how she always bugging me, and how my mom would patiently tell me that she liked to hang around me because she looked up to me--you know, that typical thing that parents say to their oldest. I missed her like crazy when I went off to college, and we became much closer friends during that time. Now, I would count her among my best friends.

There's no denying I'm an official adult now--I am 30, after all. I've been married nearly a decade, I'm far removed from my college days, I have an actual career (not just a job), and now I'm a mom. If there's anything that defines adulthood, I would say it's definitely things like that. So if I can accept my own adulthood, why is it so hard to accept my siblings as adults? After all, 3 of them are married and one has a baby. According to my previous list, that makes them all bona fide adults.

But it's the big sister in me that looks at them and still sees Dave's impish grin, hears Steve's sweet giggles, sees Mary's corkscrew pigtails, hears Pete's 4-year-old voice saying, "Awesome, dude." And as much as they may hate it, there's a part of me that will always see them that way. They can wear a military uniform, put the initials "M.D." after their name, have 5 kids each, earn multiple college degrees... but I will always look at them as my little siblings.

And of course, when their kids are old enough, Auntie Sara will be more than happy to spill the dirt about what their mommies and daddies were really like when they were kids. After all... what are big sisters for?