Lament for the Big Sister

"Oh, look at Vivi!  Isn't she cute?  Isn't she clever?  Isn't she funny?" 

Those words pour through our house and hover in the air around our heads as Vivi learns a new skill, a new way to thrill and delight us, on a daily basis.  We "Oooh" and "Ahh" over her.  We praise and cuddle her.  Vivi takes up a lot of our time.  She takes up a lot of attention.

 A few weeks ago, I wrote about some of the drama that exists between my two girls as they grow together as sisters.  Vivi, even at fifteen months, can cut a look at Madeline harsh enough to freeze water.  But as it turns out, Madeline has a few looks of her own:

Doesn't her face just seem to be saying, "What the heck is her problem?"

I didn't notice Madeline's facial expression until I looked back at these pictures on my phone several days after they were taken, at which point  Eric and I had a laugh.  Then I looked again, and again, and the picture started to make me sad.  

We captured Madeline's feelings through the lens of my phone, but nobody noticed her in real life because all eyes were on her little sister.  This has become her life as the big sister.  Stories get interrupted.  Games get destroyed.  Her needs sometimes get ignored.

We fawned over Madeline once, perhaps even more so than Vivi since she was the only star in our sky.  We remind her of this, but of course she doesn't remember.

Meanwhile, the list of offenses grows longer.  

Vivi picks up a canister of markers and dumps it across the floor.  We laugh.  Maddie sees the attention, and dumps the canister of crayons, a giant grin in her face.  We scold.  She's a big kid.  She knows better.  

Maddie climbs the banister, "Look what I can do, Mumma!"  I don't mind until her littler sister tries to follow her up.  The game is over, and Madeline is told to get down.  She has to set a good example.  

Maddie wants me to play Play-Dough with her. She's been asking for a week, but there's little time for us to be alone.  We give it a try, with Vivi in my lap.  Two minutes in, Vivi eats a chunk of the pink.  I put her down, and she claws at my leg in tears.  Maddie ends up playing alone.  

Maddie's new magazine arrives in the mail, and she's eager to read it.  Vivi wants to see too, and so I lay the pages on the floor for them to share.  Vivi keeps sitting on the pages so Maddie can't see.  Madeline gets frustrated and head-butts her sister.  Madeline gets in trouble.  

There's a pile of toys that need to be cleaned up before bedtime.  "Vivi played with them too!  She has to help," Madeline argues.  I tell her that Vivi doesn't know how to clean up yet, and that we have to show her how.  Maddie carefully sorts the toys into separate baskets, and as soon as she rounds up all the blocks, her little sisters dumps them back out.  

We had to leave Madeline's field trip to the athletic center early last week to make it to one of Vivi's doctor's appointments.  She missed pajama day last month because Vivi had conjunctivitis and I was worried Madeline would infect the whole school.  She never did end up getting it.  

It's all so unfair being the big sister.  Sometimes I see it.  Sometimes I don't.

There's a delicate balance between ensuring Madeline feels important, and teaching her to make room in her world for others.  Sometimes I manage to make it work, and sometimes I fail miserably.

Besides, as the baby of the family, Vivi has a growing list of injustices too.  That's a post for another day.

I must say, Madeline handles her role as big sister beautifully.  She doesn't complain much.  She doesn't throw tantrums or stomp her feet.  She protests quietly with those secret dirty looks and occasional tattles.  

I just want you to know, Madeline, that I see you, and that I'm trying my best.