“He didn’t sleep well last night,” my sister said, passing off the baby to my open arms.

She didn’t need to tell me. I could tell by the faint smudges under her eyes, the baby’s unnatural disinterest in his breakfast. He didn’t whimper at being handed to his auntie, but he didn’t greet me with his usual new-toothed grin.

Sister reached for coffee cups, one for her and one for my brother-in-law, who shuffled in with a similar face.

“I don’t think he’s been feeling well,” she explained. Mom came in after me, and reached for the baby’s forehead.

“He feels a little warm.”

“And it explains why he’s been such a fuss-bucket,” my sister clucked, reaching over to feel the baby’s forehead, too.

I handed Baby back to my mom, who with my sister jointly administered Motrin. Not wanting to hover underfoot, I took my coffee and granola bar to the living room, where I picked up my laptop and tried to catch up on the emails I’d missed since driving up to San Francisco for my nephew’s first birthday.

After a while, my sister appeared back in the living room with Baby in tow, cup of coffee in her free hand. His eyes seemed clearer, and he unleashed one of his megawatt grins at me. Sister set him down on the fluffy carpet, and sat beside me. Baby crawled over to his toy basket and promptly began pulling out plastic footballs and farm animals.

Sister had dressed for the day, jeans and a sweater. Her style hadn’t changed much over the years. She had always worn simple clothing and hardly any jewelry. However much her appearance hadn’t changed though, she looked different.

“It’s great that you guys are here,” she told me. “A lot of the time it’s just me, and I can’t even leave the room. When he was younger I could just pop him in the bouncy chair. Now that he’s mobile, that doesn’t work anymore.”

Baby got to the bottom of his toy box and, tired of the contents, crawled back to his mama, chortling to himself as he went. He was at that stage, the one of perpetual noise-making and cooing, even the occasional utterance of single-syllable words.

“Aw, you feeling better, pookie?” she crooned, scooping him up. “Let’s play with the cars Auntie got you for your birthday.”

They scooted to the floor, a single unit. Baby grabbed one of the chubby cars and stuck a bumper in his mouth. Sister scooted another car back, cranking it up, and released it. It skittered across the floor, and Baby beamed.

Mother and son. The mother bore no resemblance to the girl with the sheaf of yellow hair who told jokes with no punch lines; the one who would purposely give herself a milk mustache to irritate me, but would always play Barbies with me when I asked. This girl who drove me crazy with her sloppiness and then later grew into the neater one of us. This girl who flew with me to France, who kept me company as I dragged her from monument to monument and who shared gelato with me everyday.

When did my little sister become this mother and son?

“Look at him dance,” she said. She had been singing “Happy Birthday” to him, and he frantically bobbed back and forth with infant wiggliness as she commenced with another rendition of the song. After, she kissed the top of his head.

She had never looked more beautiful.


Way back when

Me and Sister


Mother and Son — 49 Comments

  1. Oh, darling, this made me cry. It’s a positive post, but I detect a certain reluctant yearning underneath the surface – a yearning I share. While I’m not in a spot where I can responsibly have children, and I’m not even certain that I want them at all, but when I see my loved ones with their little ones – well. Teary eyes.

  2. lovely

    I became an uncle about 1 1/2 years before I became a father. For some reason my niece would sleep as soon as she touched my arms. So, my sister and then brother in law would have me take care of my niece a lot, so they could sleep, too.

    I had the same reaction to my sister becoming a parent. Let’s just say neither she nor I were good candidates for parenthood before February 28, 2001. Now, we’re both so parent-like it’s kind of sickening.

    Great post. Happy Birthday to him, aunt Nat
    Lance recently posted…Halloween Parade – Twisted Mixtape TuesdayMy Profile

  3. This was really nice. Sometimes I wish I was closer like that with my brother. We get along, but I know it could be better. Maybe it’s because we see each other almost every day?

    Anyways, I’m glad you have this. πŸ™‚
    Ken recently posted…#174. or, The WedgeMy Profile

  4. This piece made me teary. I know so well the feeling of watching your little sister become a mother, and the love and wonder that comes with it. My little sister is now a mother twice over, and every time I see her with her kids, I can’t take my eyes off of her. She is such a beautiful mother, and I am awash in awe and pride at the way that she has taken to her new role, and I am so thankful that she has blazed this trail for me to follow.
    Samantha Brinn Merel recently posted…Sandy: One Year LaterMy Profile

  5. I’m fairly sure we just bought that same squishy car toy set at Costco for our friend’s child’s first b-day. I was playing with it after it was opened.

    One year old is a tough stage. At three, though, it all changes. No more dirty diapers, they sleep through the night…they get self-sufficient…it’s just so much easier.

    But this made me remember those nights. Good post.
    Chris Plumb recently posted…Cats, Cat Memes, and Crazy Cat Ladies.My Profile

  6. I love this, Natalie. I remember thinking about this when the first of my friends had a baby, about how she seemed like a totally different person, and I always wondered about how if she saw herself differently, too. Lovely post!

  7. This was such a lovely, sentimental post and really very well written. I especially liked these first few lines: “She didn’t need to tell me. I could tell by the faint smudges under her eyes, the baby’s unnatural disinterest in his breakfast.” You didn’t need to TELL this story either, as you really did such a wonderful job SHOWING all of the emotions through your fine imagery and figurative language. Just lovely. <3

  8. This was so sweet and sentimental, like a mouth full of candy. It is so wonderful to hear positive stories about siblings. My two girls are in their twenties and still struggle to make it through a weekend together without a tiff, but maybe one day.
    William Dameron recently posted…Reality TVMy Profile

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badge


Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers:

%d bloggers like this: