The Baby Of The Family

From the folder titled “the grass is always greener” comes this recent revelation.  Maybe it’s not such a curse to be the oldest in the family, no matter how many studies confirm the first child absorbs all the unrealistic expectations of the parents.  I’ve spent my entire life feeling disadvantaged by my birth order when its really the baby who deserves the greater sympathy.

Sure, I got the new clothes first, but I never thought it worth the price.  I was all by myself in leading the way for Karen and Susan.  I had to go to school first, had to take piano lessons first, had to step forward and politely greet my parent’s friends first, had to speak for all three of us in fact in any formal circumstance since I learned how to speak before my sisters did and was therefore the expert, and I had the first and earliest curfew in the history of curfews; 10:00 pm as an 18 year old.  By the time Susan was 18 my parents were more interested in getting sleep than wondering where she was. But how would I know?  I was stuck being the first of the kids to have to go away to college.  Poor me.

Maureen, Karen and the Baby

Now that I’m a parent I see both sides.  Natalie had the first and best of everything, but she had that first expectation thing placed upon her too.  We thought she could get into Harvard and we worked the system, pushing the grades, hiring tutors, visiting campuses.  She didn’t get into Harvard and she’s none the worse for it, so Christian has a different life.  Wherever he wants to go that “makes him happy” is good enough for us.  Score one for the baby.

On the other hand, a dear friend of mine has three boys in their teens and early 20s.  Their father addresses the older two by name but the youngest who isn’t younger by much doesn’t get to have a name, at least not in the company of his father.  Dad changes the inflection of his voice, almost like he’s talking to a girl and says “Hi Buddy”.  It’s hard to be taken seriously when you’re considered the mascot of the family, one small step above the dog.

When Natalie was in high school she used her wiles to squeeze every available penny from the family budget.  Even some pennies that weren’t available.  Christian?  Poor kid.  The well is dry and if he wants something new, he first has to sell something old.   All that practice and discipline gives him an entrepreneurial bent rare for a kid his age and his friends and friend’s parents tell him so.  The  family doesn’t seem to appreciate this very much.  Everyone chuckles at him like he’s still in diapers and just keeps being adorable.

Even when the children were real little and people inquired if I had boys or girls, I said I had a girl, two boys and a baby.  Our infant production was ending at four so I couldn’t bring myself to assign any permanent gender for the last one.  Christian was not considered anything besides a baby for years.

Charlie, Harry, Natalie, the Baby, Mom

Was it being treated like a baby that had the antithetical outcome of producing perhaps the most mature?  Or was it all those years of exposure to the interests and actions of the older siblings?  The first three had hours upon hours of child-centered music in the car; Raffi or Sharon, Lois and Bram.  Just as Christian was getting old enough to enjoy this stuff too, the dial turned to Top 20 hits.  Natalie, Harry and Charlie wouldn’t be caught dead listening to music for babies anymore so  I had the choice of having anarchy thrust upon me by the older three, or the lone toddler with no rights rocking in his car seat and belting out at the top of his lungs the rap lyrics of raunchy love songs.  The only reason I now admit to the option I chose is I believe the statute of limitations on charges of contributing to the delinquency of a minor have passed.

Back to my beloved sister Susan, who absorbed the more relaxed parenting style to grow into a funny, personable and easy going 50 year old; a 50 year old who is still described by Karen and me as such a “great kid”.  Karen is 51.  I am 52.

Perhaps I was wrong all my life to assume the oldest carries the birth order baggage.  Maybe the baby of the family bears a special burden too.

Tagged as: birth order, Parenting