In case you don't know my family or haven't read far enough in the archives here, let me tell you that I am the oldest of six children. What this meant for me growing up was that I hardly ever wore hand-me-downs, I was spoiled with lots of attention by my parents, aunts, and uncles, and I had my own room for a while as I was growing up.
It all sounds pretty good, and it was, but there was one major problem.
I had no big sister.
-No big sister to push me on the swings.
-No big sister to pump me on her bike.
-No big sister to help me carry the sled back up the hill.
-No big sister to tell me when I should ask mom and dad if I was old enough to wear make-up.
-No big sister to console me when I wasn't asked to the Homecoming Dance.
I used to dream that my parents would adopt another child--a girl who was older than me, just so I could have a big sister.
I never told them, and it didn't happen.
It was probably for the best.
Thinking back, I don't remember doing too many of the things for my younger siblings that I would have liked my hypothetical big sister to do.
I did push them on the swings though.
I also made them spend their Sunday afternoons coloring paper chains for our outside tree every Christmas--and for all their hard labor, I rewarded them with 5-6 plain M&M's each.
----But that's another story.
So, Heather is the oldest in our family. We hope that she will eventually be followed by a younger sibling, maybe even two (we'll have to see I guess), but barring the kind of adoption that I dreamed about when I was young, Heather will always be the oldest. I feel for her, and hope she won't ache for an older sister the way I did.*
But wait! There is hope for my Heather.
If my dear friend Heidi can be trusted (and she can), her (year-old-and-then-some) daughter Eden just may step up to the plate at some point, and fill many of the roles of the big sister that Heather will probably not otherwise get.
Apparently, Eden adores Heather.
-To the point of taking pictures of Heather off the fridge and carrying them around with her all throughout the house .
-To the point of naming one of her dolls "Heather".
-To the point of making her mother sit at the computer several times a week to look at the same blog you're looking at, scrolling through all these boring words to find the pictures of Heather.
Now, there are some problems with this scenario-- the main one being that Eden lives in Alabama and Heather lives in Utah. It's entirely possible (I suppose) that this may not work out in exactly the way that I'm hoping that it will.
But it might . . . right?
I take considerable comfort in the fact that when Eden (and Heidi and Phil) came to visit us over the holidays, Eden spent quite a bit of time with one of Heather's toys, nearly to the exclusion of all the rest.
It was . . . the swing.
You might be wondering what Eden wanted to do with Heather's baby swing. Did she want to climb into it?
Not even once.
She wanted to push it.
and push it,
and push it.
Oh yeah little Heather. Your big sister is already in training.
Eden, these are for you .