It’s NaBloPoMo Day 14!
Today’s confession: I’m not bossy; you’re just not very good at taking direction. Okay, maybe I’m a little bossy.
I’m the oldest of four kids. I vividly remember my sister being born. I was three. Life was perfect until she came along. I remember being told that I’d have a new sibling to play with! I’d have so much fun!
Wrong.
You don’t play with babies.
They lie there.
They cry.
You can’t pick them up and try to “help” without being reprimanded.
This was not what I would call “fun.”
Life as I knew it was over.
Years later, my mom actually apologized for the way they handled the transition. “I’m so sorry we told you you’d be able to play with her right away,” she said. “We were new at the whole thing! You were our first! You were our guinea pig. We learned a lot through trial and error with you. If you remember, we never told any of the rest of you that when a new sibling came along.”
My parents were (are) great people, but I was also dropped or fell on my head a lot. (You think I take diligent notes as a perfectionist? My babybook is filled to the brim with all the sordid details, all in my mom’s handwriting.) Although that explains quite a bit, let’s just move on, shall we?
We are all two or three years apart. My baby brother, baby number 4, was born when I was eight. As the oldest, the responsibility to keep it all together often fell on my shoulders. Things had to be done a certain way in our house, and, as the oldest, a lot of the responsibility was mine.
Am I bossy because I was the oldest, or is it purely coincidental?
Claire is an only child, and I see some of my traits in her, so I’m leaning toward the genetics aspect of this condition. “Claire is a true leader,” one mom said at a play date a few months ago. “That’s so nice of you to say that,” I said, watching her lead around a group of kids. “In my day, we called that ‘bossy.’”
They all laughed, but we all knew the truth. I am what I am, and those proverbial apples aren’t very good at bouncing too far.
There are many times when I get into a situation that the next steps seem very clear. This, this, and this need to happen in this order. It’s obvious. It’s hard for me to not step in and start taking control. It’s hard for me to step back and let people do things a different way. And that’s if there’s already a person “in charge.” If it’s a free-for-all, look out! I do try not to trample anyone on my way to the front of the line.
Sometimes, I can let it go, but if I’m stressed or otherwise preoccupied, I slip into my true mode and start barking orders in the politest way I know how. I think I’ve gotten pretty good at telling people what to do without really telling people what to do, but I could also be delusional.
Were real life a game of Survivor, I’m not sure how long I’d last before someone voted me out.
It’s a good thing I have this immunity necklace.
My husband, on the other hand, is the spoiled little brat baby of his family. He’s also very opinionated, and our “conversations” can get rather spirited at times. When we get locked in battle, an outsider would be able to see our “original positions” come into play. Personally, I think it’s good for Claire to see people disagree about things, especially if they play by fair rules, which we do. I think it’s good for her to see how the problem solving works. I think it’s good for her to see people disagree but end up at the same place in the end.
It’s also good for her to see how to lose an argument gracefully. And, yes, those are lessons she learns from her father. 
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