I want my daughters to be best friends, but I also have to accept they might never be
I have two daughters, ages 4.5 and 1.5 years old.
I wanted one kid, but my husband felt we should give our oldest a sibling.
I want them to be friends and maybe I'm projecting the relationship I wanted to have with my brother.
"Can you hold your sister's hand?" I ask my oldest as we walk through the crowded airport.
I decided to fly solo with both kids for a long weekend. In doing so, though, I also put a lot of trust in my 4.5 and 1.5-year-old daughters to get through the airport as a unified team.
"Her hand is sweaty," Maeve said, shaking her little sister off.
"Please," I try again. "She's your little sister and best friend." It's hard to mask the pleading in my eyes as I roll two carry-on suitcases and have absolutely zero free hands.
"Ugh, fine," Maeve said. Gemma smiles when her big sister grabs her hand again. And I smile, too.
My husband and I disagreed on the number of kids we should have
My husband, an only child, had felt a bit lonely growing up, whereas I'd had a little brother and knew friendship wasn't guaranteed. While I was happy with one, he wanted our daughter to have a sibling. He figured they'd be best friends.
I told him we didn't know if that was the case. They could very well hate each other.
My brother and I are only 18 months apart. I remember being inseparable as little kids — we looked out for each other, spent hours riding bikes together, and would put on elaborate plays for our parents. Today, though? We have a fraught relationship. It was a divide that began when I was in middle school and has continued well into adulthood, thanks to a combination of differing personalities and the competitive atmosphere my parents unintentionally fostered.
I want my kids to be friends
Now that I have two daughters who are three years apart, I've made it a goal that they not only have a strong relationship but are also friends — maybe even best friends.
"You and your brother are best friends?" I once asked a coworker when I was pregnant with my second daughter. She'd told me she was traveling with her brother — something I could never imagine doing. "How did that happen?"
She said that her mom just kept telling them they were best friends, and so that's what they became.
Could it really be that simple? Almost immediately, I started telling my oldest that her new little sister would be her best friend.
As it turned out, it's obviously not that simple. When Gemma was born, Maeve was (understandably) upset that this screaming potato with eyes had come in and taken her mom's attention. It wasn't until the six-month mark that Maeve seemed to finally accept that Gemma wasn't going anywhere. And then, at around eight months, Maeve made Gemma laugh. Which seemed to give Maeve just enough satisfaction to try to make her laugh again.
Their relationship has ups and downs
Almost two years into being siblings, I watch their relationship ebb and flow — sometimes hugging and giggling, other times crying and screaming. The book "Siblings Without Rivalry" told me to set expectations low — they don't need to be friends, the goal should be for them to have a good relationship.
Still, I want them to be friends. I know that I'm projecting the relationship I wish I'd had with my brother onto them. But I can't help it — I don't want them to grow up and not be able to rely on each other. While I know I can't force them to willingly spend time together (they may very well end up like my brother and I), there are some things I can control.
So, for now, I try to plan activities they both like to do together. I occasionally remind them they're built-in best friends. And when something good happens for one of them (like my daughter's holiday recital), I make sure her sister cheers her on from the crowd.
Soon enough, I won't be able to dictate how they spend their time, and it will be up to them to decide their future relationship. Selfishly, I hope that relationship is friendly, and I have to hold on to that.
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