Trials and Tribulations of the Oldest Child

Its not easy being the oldest child. The burden is heavy and I am too short and delicate to be tasked with such a massive load. The stress is unrelenting, but I do my best.

Unfortunately, almost immediately after birth the pressure was on. Mom entered me in some kind of a “Baby Royalty” contest. I was only able to achieve the status of “Duchess,” and all I got was a lousy pink ribbon. What a letdown! Even though I was eventually joined by 4 siblings who were able to share some of the spotlight, the expectations were still high and to this day, I feel an unresolved trauma when I think of my younger years. The pain is real, people.

Actually, a lot of my childhood memories have faded into oblivion but there are some incidents that still haunt me. Allow me to elaborate.

The Red Candy Heart Gang

In the “olden days,” kids were allowed to run loose. Sort of like feral cats. And my younger brother and I were no exception. We would spend full days roaming the neighborhood with a bunch of other “rebels”, looking for excitement. (I have to admit to being the Gang Leader…. I can’t help it. I’m a natural)

I think I was around 6 years when I was given the responsibility of picking up the neighbors mail while they were on holiday. Looking back, it seems ridiculous that I was permitted to do so, let alone actually given a key to their house! Apparently there were no responsible adults in the room.

Mom must have been too busy to monitor my activities because by then Middle Sis had arrived, and she now had 3 kids to keep track of. Little Bro and I were free and boy did we get into trouble!

For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to invite the neighborhood kids to join me in the neighbors house, and have a look around. As luck would have it, there was a bowl of red candy hearts on the mantle. They were irresistible. By the time we were finished, the bowl was empty, we had left a few muddy footprints here and there and when we left, I forgot to lock the door. Imagine the horror when the neighbors realized some uninvited guests had invaded.

You guessed it! When they returned, the jig was up. I don’t remember much after that escapade except that there was a lot of crying and angst on my part.

The Chocolate Milk Caper

It was my fourth birthday party and I was practically delirious! I had been forced to sit on the kitchen counter for an eternity while Mom painstakingly tried to put my hair in ringlets. And now I had on my new blue velvet dress and I was ready to “partay.”

We were having my favorite chocolate milk and cake and that was all I needed to know. Sadly, I was a bit too enthusiastic once the guests arrived. I was so excited that I spilled my chocolate milk everywhere including on the table, floor and two of the guests. What had started with such high expectations was now a frantic attempt to clean everything and everyone up. I don’t remember much of anything after that, except that Mom was furious and there was was more crying and angst on my part.

Wait, There’s More!

At this point I will give only a passing reference to the fact that shortly after I was born, Mom was advised that it was a good idea to bundle me up and put me outside in a pram, in the middle of winter. We lived in Edmonton folks. Temperatures in winter were consistently well below freezing! Needless to say I was the only one of my siblings to endure such treatment. To this day, I maintain that it was responsible for my short stature.

Finally, I will end this monologue pointing out the fact that Little Sis, being the youngest has never had to endure the pain of being the “experimental child.” If something worked for me, then my siblings were all treated similarly. If it didn’t work, I was alone in my misery. So by the time Little Sis arrived on the scene, all of the “kinks” had been worked out and she was the beneficiary of my years of trial and error. I will just mention that she also got her own TV and enjoyed several fantastic holidays…. even Disneyland for goodness sake!

And so my sad tale comes to an end. Fortunately, I’m not as bitter as I sound😉Through all of this trauma I have emerged stronger and more determined than ever, with courage to carry on in the face of adversity. In the famous words of Gloria Gaynor, 🎵 I Will Survive, I Will Survive🎵. But that’s a story for another day.