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Three Sisters and a Funeral

Three Sisters and a Funeral


(They look pretty angelic in this picture, don’t they?)

You love ’em. You hate ’em. You adore their every move, you hit them with a hairbrush (not that I’d know anything from personal experience about this from my childhood with two sisters…ahem. Sorry, Suzanne.).

[sws_pullquote_right] Sometimes it’s just more than anyone can take being the middle child. [/sws_pullquote_right]

Sometimes my girls just can’t take it. The pressure gets to them. The little annoyances of living with each other occasionally just builds up to an aggression that no one but God could hold back. I don’t think my kids are violent, but I suppose if I kept records of the biting incidents, the pinching, hitting, and shoving that has gone on throughout the years, I guess I might change my mind.

Sibling violence is not a pretty thing, but this is exactly what happened with my middle daughter a few weeks back. My husband and I were very relieved that the incident did not involve actually hurting a sibling this time, but it was still pretty bad.

I understand. I really do. She and I share a bond as the middle daughters of our families. Bossy big sister, provoking little sister who gets away with murder because she’s “the baby” (by the way, how long can I use that? My baby will be five this summer.).

Sometimes it’s just more than anyone can take being the middle child.

This was just such a day, and it resulted in a crime of passion in our home. She really could probably claim temporary insanity as her plea. I recognized that look of rage in her eyes as a middle child, and the crime happened and was over with before she even realized what she’d done. It was like an out of body experience.

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It reminded me a lot of that stupid pink hairbrush I hurled across the room at my 4-yr-old baby sister way back when…

I don’t even really know what caused the skirmish, to be honest. I would imagine little sister was doing something small, but just irritating enough to make her big sister nuts. That’s all it takes, really. It’s like Chinese water torture. The steady drip, drip, drip of a pesky little sister can result in massive explosions.

All I know is that my middle child went storming out of her room and racing to the playroom. About five seconds later, the deed was done and there was no going back. The wailing began as the little sister became aware of the travesty that had just occurred.

Meet “Big Mama”.

big mamma

Leighanne has had the miniature version of this puppy dog ever since she was a baby. She loves that puppy, so I was thrilled to find the bigger version last year for Christmas. She was quickly dubbed “Big Mama” because of her massive size.

But on this day that will live in infamy around here, Big Mama met her match at the hands of my enraged child. I’m still not even really sure how she managed it, to be honest. I suppose anger works the same way as adrenaline and gives you super strength in the heat of the moment.

Poor Big Mama. She never even knew what hit her.

rip Final

A tearful four-year-old brought Big Mama to me in her arms. The poor stuffed animal had been literally ripped apart, stuffing falling out of her like entrails. Her big, plastic brown eyes looked at me mournfully. Her floppy ears drooped.

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It was not a pretty sight.

The damage was done.
The damage was done.

The accused, immediately repentant at seeing the death of an innocent bystander at her hands, tried desperately to make it right. She collected all the stuffing and shoved it back in, but it was just too late for Big Mama. Recovery was a hopeless cause (especially when the mother of this home is completely, 100% ignorant when it comes to sewing repairs). We tried to be sensitive in disposing of the mangled remains. It was all we could do.

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We mourned the loss of Big Mama, but none so much as little sister. It was a good lesson for both of them, though.

Pesky little sister learned what the term “the straw that broke the camel’s back” actually means.

Melodramatic middle sister learned what “that’s coming out of your piggy bank” actually means.

We’re still searching for a Big Mama look alike. Somehow I think she would be pleased to know she served this family not just as a snuggly toy, but as the object in an object lesson. It was a wonderful life she lived, but a noble death she died.

Ah, yes, siblings. Wouldn’t life be boring without ’em?

Sisters Final

What’s your sibling story? Please tell me I’m not the ONLY one who threw hairbrushes at my sister.


View Comments (12)
  • Ha! I am the mide child of three girls (all 2 years apart) so I can relate with this completely. Now, I have 3 children but the order is girl, boy, boy. There is still PLENTY sibling rivalry, but nowhere near the dynamics of 3 girls. I totally see my oldest acting like my older sister all the time – bossy, know-it-all. I have a special place in my heart for understanding my middle child. As much as I resented it growing up, the baby will ALWAYS be the baby (no matter what age).
    Trust me, throwing a hairbrush is the least possible bad thing I can think of that my sisters and did to each other growing up 🙂 NOTHING compares to the passion of sibling rivalry, except sibling love. You can do anything you want to each other, but someone else better not even try it!!

    • Loved this story! I’m the oldest of 4 girls and 2 boys and can remember breaking up a few of these, I managed to steer clear as a child and now i get to referee my 3 🙂

  • As the baby of three girls, I will just mention these items: tennis racket, canoe oar and croquet mallet. Enough said. (Great article!)

    • Sheri – we must have had very similar childhoods! My list has only one change: tennis racket, telephone (the old school heavy ones) and croquet mallet.

  • Reading this story brings back to many memories! 🙂 some good and some bad but it was a childhood well lived. I’m the middle of three girls and 1 boys but I felt just like your daughter at times and even in my adulthood( i’m only 27) I still do. Oh the joy of growing up as a middle child can make you a well rounded person. I wish luck on you and your husband. Cause even when we visit my parents house (all 4 of us) its never a quiet time and someone always leaves early, preferably me cause I like my peace and quiet. But I do know one things we will always be ride or die for each other. If you mess with one you mess with all. I love family.

  • I don’t remember throwing hairbrushes, but I sure remember fist fights. One in particular ended on the front porch with my shirt being torn off. I know we fought plenty, but we’re best of friends now.

  • Micah’s Mom, you are my new favorite best friend! Thanks! I will look up the puppy on Amazon (yes, it is by Gund).
    Thanks for the responses, ladies….so glad to know there are others out there who totally relate to sibling issues!

  • Oh how I remember the fights between my sister and I! My sister, the baby, had a certain scream she would do and no matter if it was my fault or hers, guess who got into trouble? That’s right, me! It’s ok now of course, because she is one of my best friends and the best aunt and referee to my two wild little boys!

  • I’m the baby of three girls. The older ones are close in age and then I came along as a surprise 5 years later. I’m here because the insurance wouldn’t pay for a vasectomy according to my Daddy. (Isn’t that what every kid wants to hear.) I know God doesn’t make mistakes. I was a surprise. I do remember they had a name they called me. I do remember eavesdropping on them and embarrasing them on purpose. Thank you to Sixteen Candles for a really good embarrassing comment. Haha 😛

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