About sisters and hugs and buckets of blood
My sister is coming back! After living and working in Botswana with her husband for the past 10 billion years (rounded off to about 30 months) they are returning to our most beautiful South Africa. They have been travelling quite a bit over the last few years and although I am sure it enriched them and helped them grow as a couple I really just want them to come back now and have a boring predictable life staying in one place. Hopefully really close to us. Obviously I am sister of the year.
Speaking about the annual sister of the year awards… my own two girls are certainly not finalists. Our eldest was 2 years old when her sister was born and honestly, when I imagined them as little girls I only saw mental pictures of matching dresses and flower crowns as they skipped hand-in-hand through the meadows. Yes, I will excuse you now for a few moments while you finish laughing your head off. In the real world they point blank refuse to wear matching outfits and they are much more interested in their digital devices than skipping through meadows.
At the moment my biggest issue with them is to try and make them understand that hugging one of them will not leave less hugs in my body for the other one. The same goes for praise and laughs and cuddles. On the contrary, the more love I give to one of them, the more love there is available to the other one. It is not a bucket with 100% love that they have to share 50-50 or 60-40. They each get their own bucket. It’s a mommy-miracle in fact. I got quite excited as I was telling them about love and buckets and these ratios yesterday. Then the conversation went something like this:
- 7-year old: *frowning* So where is the love in your body? Is it in your blood?
- Me: Uh, yes I guess you could say so.
- 9-year old: *raising her eyebrows* So we each get a bucket of blood??
- 7-year old: Euw! That is so gross. I don’t want buckets of blood.
- 9-year old: *laughing her head off* Me neither. You can have my bucket! I love you so much I will empty my bucket over your head!
- 7-year old: *crying* Noooo. I don’t want blood in my hair. Mom! Linneke is going to empty her bucket in my hair!”
- 9-year old: Oh, don’t be such a baby.
- Me: Please don’t fight with your sister.
- 7-year old: Whaaa. I won’t ever get the blood out of my hair.
- 9-year old: Why are you telling mè to stop fighting! See you love her more than you love me. Her bucket is bigger than mine!
As I was trying not to have an accident and stop little-sister crying I silently cursed myself for having these conversations in the car. But just before I found a spot to pull over and give them lots of hugs I could swear I saw big sister wink at me in the rear-view mirror.
So enough about that. Back to my own sister. She is 5 years younger than I am so we were not really close as kids. I loved her beautiful little squishy cheeks but she was still a little girl when I pretended to be all grown up. It was only when we were in our early twenties that I realised she was actually the grown up and we connected like it’s not even funny. Now there is nothing squishy about her cheeks and she is my best friend in the entire world. Between our travels and their travels we even had a few magical years where we lived about 3km from each other in the same city. She was the reason I started running, she is my favourite dress-and-cardigan borrower and –borowee and she and her husband is also one of the best babysitting-partnerships this city has ever seen.
My sister is coming back! I literally can’t wait. The buckets of love-blood are full and waiting to be poured out all over her pretty hair.
We greatly appreciate all feedback and enjoy a good discussion. However if we find your comments offensive or abusive towards our writers or readers we will appreciate it all by ourselves and then delete it. We are looking forward to enjoying and sharing your open-minded and responsible comments.