Diary of a Gen Z student: It’s difficult when sibling relationships become more adult
Cronin Student 2024 County At Her Irish College Cowan Dunshaughlin, Trinity In February, Meath 28th Photo:barry Home Jane Columnist Examiner And Photographed
There’s something funny about being the youngest child. You watch as your siblings become adults, while you’re still being told to brush your teeth before bed. With four children, our house was always noisy.
Mornings before school, there’d be a queue for the shower. Tea always brewed in batches of six. And an argument about who had to take the middle seat in the car. Being the smallest sibling meant the burden of the middle seat in the car usually fell on me.
Being the youngest also meant that I had five people acting like my parents, at times. My sister would remind me to pack my lunch box every morning in primary school. My other sister would make me an extra large hot chocolate in the evening.
I also have a distinct memory of falling into a river in France when I was about four years old — fighting for my life, in a pair of Lelli Kelly’s. Until my brother, who was 13 at the time, jumped in after me.
He dragged me to the river bank, and I was quickly brought into the house and put into a hot bath. In reality, I’ve since been told this ‘river’ would barely qualify as a stream. And I was only a bit damp from the shins down. I had a small army around me at all times.
We tormented each other in fair measure too. The zapper for the TV was a hot commodity and a constant point of contention. My SpongeBob SquarePants habit didn’t usually cut it for the older siblings.
Then there were other issues such as, who finished the last of the Coco Pops? Who used all the hot water? Who took my Nintendo? Who put the empty milk carton back into the fridge?
If you weren’t happy about something, it helped to blame a sibling. That was the main thing to remember. And remember, we did.
Maybe it was during the ad break between the news and the weather. But we all grew up a bit. The last of the Coco Pops didn’t matter. Piling all four children into the same car became a rarity.
It’s difficult to pin down the moment it happened. All I’m sure of is that it did happen.
I was in primary school when my brother first moved out. It was strange at the time. Now, my bother lives in London, my sister lives in Melbourne, and my other sister is still kicking around Dublin.
We’re not in school anymore. We’re 20, 24, 27 and 29; adults. Busier now than when we were kids. We don’t get to see each other as much as we’d like. Especially not for protracted periods of time.
At the moment, I’m seeing one of my sisters for the first time in over a year since she moved to Melbourne. Going that long without seeing a sibling was unimaginable a few years ago. But that’s the reality of growing up, I guess.
You have to make plans to see each other. It’s not just ‘I’ll catch you for our nightly fight over the zapper’.
During Covid, I was acutely aware of how much time we were getting to spend together, in the confines of our home.
Cutting each other’s hair when we couldn’t get to a salon, recreating our Nando’s order because Nando’s was outside of our 2km limit. It was fun.
But there was also a sadness in knowing that we’d probably never get that type of time together again. I didn’t appreciate it enough.
If you’re lucky, the longest relationship you’ll have in your life is with your siblings. It’s difficult when those relationships have to become more adult. That’s something I’ve been learning a lot about.
I won’t just run into them at dinner time. And as I’m writing this, I’m increasingly aware of how our relationships will continue to change as we get older.
When we have partners and families to think about. I probably won’t feel that happening either. Just something else that will happen between the news and the weather.
It’s been a while since I made six cups of tea.