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Thanks For Being Great Siblings

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009 by Alyice

When I was a little girl, I loved my sister but I didn’t like her and she could say the same of me. For reasons beyond my comprehension, we were always at war with each other. We were as different as night and day, and it showed…

She was three years my junior, street-smart, funny, outgoing, and very much loved by her peers. She was brave and daring and not afraid to try new things, to defy the elders, or to be herself. She was also reckless and manipulative and a fantastic story-teller—able to spin the truth any which way she saw fit.

I, on the other hand, was book-smart, far too serious, introverted, and not liked much by my peers—as they mistook my shy and timid nature for being stuck-up. For some reason, I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders and the fear I felt inside stopped me from truly exploring who I was and what I could do. I was also far too cautious and honest for my own good and not very tolerant of the flaws of others.

Can you imagine living in the same house with someone and not having one kind word to say to (or about) one another? Eventually, I moved out and we went our separate ways, only to get updates about each other via our mother (who has now passed away).

Some days I wish I knew what caused such a rift in sibling love. Growing up in the projects, we could have really used the support of one another. Growing up with a single mother who was overworked, overstressed, and had very little patience for either of us, we could have given each other the emotional support and unconditional love we both felt was missing.

Other days, I think our mom had something to do with the rift—she’d often verbally state how she wished we would get along, but intentional or not she’d do something that put a rift between us; that pitted us against each other. And I am sure it didn’t help that our mother often made me responsible for my sister and blamed me for any time she got into trouble or got hurt.

And then there are days that I am just glad to be able to move on with my life, that I am able to put that part of my life behind me—that all the hatred and animosity and sadness and guilt is over with.

Don’t get me wrong. There are still days that I long for a better relationship with her, but I’ve come to realize that too much damage has been done. We’ve tried. It didn’t work. We all know people who bring out the worst in us—people we choose to avoid for the betterment of our health. It doesn’t make either of us a bad person, just means we weren’t cut out to be friends.

And so that brings me to what I am grateful for today…

Having gone through what I have with my sister, and struggling over the past ten years to build a sisterly-bond with a half-sister I only found out about as an adult, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to give my kids what they needed to have a great sibling relationship.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

My children know that they are loved unconditionally and that while we may love each child differently, we do not love one more than the other—we do not have a “favorite”. And it’s that security, I believe, that has allowed them to build a strong sibling love.

My son is quiet and reserved, extremely intelligent, and has strong work ethics. My daughter is loud and outgoing, definitely not reserved, and struggles with academics but is very street-smart. Both are laid back (they get that from their dad), fun loving, adventurous around the right people, and enjoy a good laugh. Both have a sarcastic nature that can stand up against the best of them (they get that from grandpa) and both have trigger points that cause them to be short-tempered (they get that from me).

And they get along beautifully!

There are times that I am blown away by how much my children love and respect each other. Nothing warms a mother’s heart more than seeing her children enjoy each other’s company, stick up for each other, and genuinely want to be around each other.

Yes, I am blessed with two wonderful children who’ve made being a mother a dream come true!

Give thanks…

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Thanks For Giving Me A Family

Monday, October 5th, 2009 by Alyice

You know that cliché about little girls dreaming of only one thing: being a housewife and mother? That was me. Oh sure, I had other dreams like starting my own missionary school or a homeless shelter complete with volunteer hairstylists, dentists, doctors, art instructors, and school teachers. But I never really had an “official” career dream. I knew I’d have a career, but it was the last thing on my mind. First and foremost, I wanted a family of my own.

Copyright 2009, Alyice Edrich
Scanned Image © Alyice Edrich, 1997
This is one of my favorite family photos, you can just see the joy!

I had grown up in the projects and seen a lot of dysfunctional families—mine included. I had seen men sexually abuse their children or their children’s friends. I had seen nice men turn into ugly monsters once they got drunk. I had seen women beaten so badly by the men in their lives…some to the brink of death. I watched as mothers bore more children simply because they didn’t want to get off Welfare. I watched mothers drink their nights away, hoping to escape the lives they lived—only to wake up the next day with a nasty hangover and a bad attitude. I watched as children were berated and belittled and made to feel not good enough—by their parents, by their siblings, and/or by their peers. I watched as families were destroyed.

And I knew there had to be something better.

Occasionally, I’d get a glimpse of “that something better”. A family would move into the projects, due to one circumstance or another, and stay just long enough to get back on their feet. These families seemed different. They hadn’t yet lost hope. They didn’t allow the circumstances of their lives to dictate who they were or how they lived and it showed. It showed in the way they communicated with each other, in how they kept their homes, in the way they walked and talked and dressed.

But most importantly, to me, is that they didn’t appear to be a bunch of strangers living under the same roof struggling to survive, they were family. They praised instead of condemned. They laughed more than they argued. They genuinely seemed to want to spend time with each other. And they treated others with respect and dignity.

And I knew I wanted something like that.

I wanted a family that wasn’t afraid of each other. I wanted a family without emotional or physical abuse. I wanted a group of people to be able to live under the same roof and actually like each other—actually want to spend time with each other and be willing to make that time for each other. I wanted to feel “the love” in my home.

And you know what? I am blessed enough to say that I got my dream. It hasn’t always been a bed of rose petals, but it sure has been worth plucking the thorns!

Give thanks…

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Thanks For The Birthday Surprise

Monday, September 21st, 2009 by Alyice

Saturday was my birthday. Every year since moving out of California, my family and I have celebrated our birthdays with a dinner and a movie—both of which are the birthday person’s choice. Originally, I had planned to drive up to my son’s college so that we could celebrate my birthday together because I wasn’t ready to have my first birthday, since his birth, without him.

There was just one problem. I had gotten sick and there was no way I could do that drive. Disappointed, I accepted the fact that my birthday would be celebrated without my son.

However, my son had other plans. Having been told that all his classes were cancelled on Friday, he hopped into his car and drove the six hours to surprise me. And boy was I clueless!

Knowing that I wouldn’t be comfortable with him driving all the way down to see us without a midway check-in call, he calls me to chat it up about college life. He asks how I am feeling, asks what the doctor had to say about my illness (as I had laryngitis due to all the phlegm in my chest), tells me that we need to move closer so that his drives home wouldn’t be so long and boring, makes a comment about having to wash his laundry, asks what’s playing at the theatre this week-end, then asks if I plan to stay up until his dad has to go to work.

At one point during the conversation, I ask him what’s playing on the radio (not even thinking that he doesn’t own a radio in his dorm room) and he says, “I don’t know it’s my roommate’s radio”. Finally, his phone kept cutting out and when I asked him what was up with his phone and where he was, he says, “This new phone you got me is crappy. It keeps cutting out. I can’t get a good reception out here. I’m not even moving around.” And he was so convincing. Either that or I was just really sick.

A few hours later, my husband leaves for work. A half hour after he leaves, there’s a rattling at the front door. I think to myself, “Why is my husband back? What did he forget?” I walk over to the door to let him in. But first I look out the window to make sure it’s him. It’s dark as we don’t have a porch light. I see a huge head in front of the door, but I can’t make out who it is. The person is much taller and bigger than my husband so I know it’s not him. I jump back and close the curtain when I realize that hey, “that looked like my son’s figure.” I look back out the window where I see my son waving and laughing.

Yes, he got me! Yes, I have the coolest son!

I was so excited. What an awesome birthday gift.

The next day, his dad returns home from work and says, “Whose Honda Civic is that in front of our house? It looks like…is our son home?!” Yes, he surprised his dad, too.

Friday was spent hanging out on the couch and playing cards with my kids. Friday night, my daughter treats us to the movies with her report card money (Can I say impressive and self-sacrificing?) and my husband treats us to dinner.

Normally, I choose a “chick flick” because it’s the only time of year the whole family will watch it with me without a single complaint. But this time there wasn’t a chick flick available so I chose Jennifer’s Body. The kids get a kick out of me screaming and talking to the screen in horror/suspense movies so I thought it would be a nice treat for them. (I really did not like the film and found it far less suspenseful and far more “gross”.)

Saturday arrives, and as much as I want to have a family day of games and laughs, I just couldn’t shake the cold, the cough, or the headache induced by all the coughing so spend most of the day sitting on the couch dealing with my cold.

When my husband arrives home from work, however, my son says, “Okay what movie do you want to watch?” I say, “We already went to the movies.” To which he replied, “It’s your birthday. We are getting out of the house. Pick a movie. We’ll order Burger King and eat it in the car on the way to the movie.” So I picked White Out. It wasn’t a bad film. I enjoyed the murder mystery part, but it was long and drawn out and I’ve kind of gotten used to fast paced action films.

Sunday arrives and I wake up to find my husband has cooked me a nice breakfast of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. Sadly, it didn’t turn out well and I couldn’t really appreciate all the effort he put into it. A few card games later, we say good-bye to my son and my birthday weekend ends.

Yes, I still missed my mom’s “Happy Birthday” song. (Before she died, she’d call every morning and sing to us.) Yes, I still wished my out-of-state friends could have been here to celebrate the day with me. But oh, did I feel blessed.

My birthday was spent with the people that matter most to me: my daughter, my son, and my husband. And I couldn’t have asked for anything more!

Give thanks…

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I'm a mixed media artist and freelance writer. Need web content? Want to commission or license art? Let's Talk.

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