My Older Brother

Recently I was tasked to create a personal introduction video.  In preparation for it, I went back to old pictures of my childhood to have some material to share. As I was looking at them, one picture really stood out to me. It was a picture of my dad, my brother and I in Arequipa, Peru.  My dad worked for the Air Force of Peru and this was his third assignment.  My memory of those times is not very clear, but I do remember everything being so new to me. The streets, the people, our chapel, our school, our new house, everything seemed big and unfamiliar. I suppose that an experience like that could make some kids nervous and a little shy. For me, it was an exciting opportunity to explore, and perhaps conquer all of those new places and make them my very own playground. But where did that confidence come from?

My parents seemed to believe that it was part of me when I came to Earth. My brother says it is because I am the middle child. But, after looking at this picture and allowing my brain to go back in time and remember how my life was then, I realized that in every new experience I’ve had my brother was always there.  When I started kindergarten, I didn’t cry because my brother was in the classroom next to me. When I joined primary, my brother was also in sharing time. When my sister was born, and my parents were caring for her, I didn’t feel left out, because my brother was always playing with me.  My confidence came from my brother, who faced all of those experiences alone, so I didn’t have to.

As a mother of two kids, I can see the differences in my own parenting style with each of my children.  I am constantly learning how to understand, discipline and nurture my older son. And every time I feel like I got it, he grows, and the behaviors and experiences are now completely new and we have to start trying to figure it out. It is never ending. I find myself making mistakes as I learn to be his mom but being able to recognize the similitude in experiences with my younger daughter.  For example, when he was a baby and would cry, I’d think he was teething. But later, I would find out that he had a double ear infection. His potty training process was harder than it had to be, because I tried to force him.  I later learned that when he was ready to do it, it took no time. I was disciplining him for an unacceptable action, only to later realize he was acting out in moments of exhaustion. These were not my best moments as a mother.

I think of my brother and the things I have seen him experience. I have seen how my parents were less hard on us that him- we were given a little more freedom and they were less strict. I used to think that it was because they were already tired and didn’t care that much about the little things. I know now that they learned with my brother, so they could be better with the younger kids. And as most parents do, they did the best they could, and were in fact great parents. I am grateful for my brother and his courage and willingness to come to our family first. He is a brave man with a noble spirit. Perhaps some of the hurt and wounds in his heart come from our family life and the learning curve of my parents to be parents.  I hope he knows how much his life and those wounds blessed mine, and how much I admire him and love him. Being the older brother gave his little sisters a sense of security, confidence and, most importantly, a forever playmate.

The impact my older brother has had on my family continues to be significant. I was a better daughter because of him. And now, understanding a little bit more from both the [aren’t and child sides, I can be a better mother to both my children. Thank you, big brother!