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elwenMy family is in the interesting situation right now that all 4 of my mom's sisters are in the area: 2 originally lived nearby, and 2 are here on independent visits from Taiwan. My grandma also lives in the area, so she must enjoy seeing all of her children minus her only son. Apparently these kinds of family gatherings translate to lots of home-cooked dinners followed by mah-jong (or however you spell it).
In general, I'm the kind of person who values friends over family -- although, I guess I really only mean that I tend to be closer to friends than family. Right now, it's kind of awesome to have such a large, close extended family. Listening to their banter is just so familiar and comfortable. And since I'm the oldest grandchild on my mom's side, they're all proud of me and always pointing to me as an example for my cousins. [And apparently also to their students, since several my aunts teach.] The pressure is scary.
Of course, being the first grandchild also means they all helped spoil and take care of me when I was little, so they have all sorts of embarrassing stories to tell. It occurred to me last night that most of the favorite stories about me involve me acting spoiled, whereas most of the ones about my sister involve her being dumb. (The former is almost definitely a reflection on me, but I don't think the latter reflects my sister now. Now, if it was my brother...)
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labeth's example, I will also now share a few stories from my childhood.]
For example, the number one favorite story about me is how, when I was 1 or so, I wouldn't let my grandma's friends leave when they came to visit. The moment they moved toward the door, I'd start crying. In the end, they'd have to sneak out by crawling behind the sofa while I was distracted.
Many of the runners up have to do with my refusal to sleep except under extremely specific and inconveniencing conditions. On the plane to Taiwan, I was fussy, so my grandma had to piggyback me the whole way; she could barely stand up when we got there. One of those first nights, I couldn't sleep unless my grandma and my aunt were rocking me in an improvised hammock. And personally I remember once when I fell asleep with my aunt patting my back, but only after I'd worked my finger into her buttonhole so she had to stay that way all night.
...yeah. I was quite the spoiled brat. I'd like to think that most of it wore off after my sister was born, but there's probably still a bit, not to mention that I'm still sheltered and privileged.
The favorite story about my sister is how she, my grandma, and I went to the park once, and I ended up pushing them around on one of those spinning disc things so fast that they fell off. My grandma got up, and noticed that my sister, instead of being upset, was serenely sucking on something in her mouth. Confused, and thinking that she hadn't brought any candy with her, my grandma scooped the thing out of my sister's mouth to discover that it was a piece of tanbark that she had picked up after she fell. To that memory, I can supplement a few of my own: the time she stuck bread up her nose, the time she jumped on the bed with chopsticks and poked herself in the cheek.
But I think those are the kinds of things all kids more or less do when they're little.
Strangely enough, there aren't too many stories about my brother, even though he was the first grandson. [One of my visiting aunts is now pregnant with the next. Who, incidentally, will be born in the year of the dog, just like my brother.] My grandma raised my sister and me, as well as my cousin who's staying with her family at our house, but my brother mostly had nannies and daycare. Last night my grandma was remarking how all three of the kids she raised were very well-behaved. And I add: however we might have been when we were younger. My cousin, whom my sister and I visited for a summer once, was quite mischievous and wild back then, but now she's so responsible and polite, I almost didn't recognize her last time we met in Taiwan.
Perhaps that's part of why my brother's such a monster, but there's probably a lot more to it.
ETA: My mom ended up telling a story about my brother. Unsurprisingly, it was about him being . . . fat. [I mean, both my sister and I are overweight now, but we weren't when we were little. My brother started that way, apparently.] The first day he was at daycare, all three of the teachers there tried to change his diaper but for the life of them couldn't get the new one on. So one of them had to drive to the store and get the super extra large ones. My parents hadn't known such a thing existed, and they started using those, too. Fortunately, my brother was potty-trained soon after.
In general, I'm the kind of person who values friends over family -- although, I guess I really only mean that I tend to be closer to friends than family. Right now, it's kind of awesome to have such a large, close extended family. Listening to their banter is just so familiar and comfortable. And since I'm the oldest grandchild on my mom's side, they're all proud of me and always pointing to me as an example for my cousins. [And apparently also to their students, since several my aunts teach.] The pressure is scary.
Of course, being the first grandchild also means they all helped spoil and take care of me when I was little, so they have all sorts of embarrassing stories to tell. It occurred to me last night that most of the favorite stories about me involve me acting spoiled, whereas most of the ones about my sister involve her being dumb. (The former is almost definitely a reflection on me, but I don't think the latter reflects my sister now. Now, if it was my brother...)
[Following
labeth's example, I will also now share a few stories from my childhood.]For example, the number one favorite story about me is how, when I was 1 or so, I wouldn't let my grandma's friends leave when they came to visit. The moment they moved toward the door, I'd start crying. In the end, they'd have to sneak out by crawling behind the sofa while I was distracted.
Many of the runners up have to do with my refusal to sleep except under extremely specific and inconveniencing conditions. On the plane to Taiwan, I was fussy, so my grandma had to piggyback me the whole way; she could barely stand up when we got there. One of those first nights, I couldn't sleep unless my grandma and my aunt were rocking me in an improvised hammock. And personally I remember once when I fell asleep with my aunt patting my back, but only after I'd worked my finger into her buttonhole so she had to stay that way all night.
...yeah. I was quite the spoiled brat. I'd like to think that most of it wore off after my sister was born, but there's probably still a bit, not to mention that I'm still sheltered and privileged.
The favorite story about my sister is how she, my grandma, and I went to the park once, and I ended up pushing them around on one of those spinning disc things so fast that they fell off. My grandma got up, and noticed that my sister, instead of being upset, was serenely sucking on something in her mouth. Confused, and thinking that she hadn't brought any candy with her, my grandma scooped the thing out of my sister's mouth to discover that it was a piece of tanbark that she had picked up after she fell. To that memory, I can supplement a few of my own: the time she stuck bread up her nose, the time she jumped on the bed with chopsticks and poked herself in the cheek.
But I think those are the kinds of things all kids more or less do when they're little.
Strangely enough, there aren't too many stories about my brother, even though he was the first grandson. [One of my visiting aunts is now pregnant with the next. Who, incidentally, will be born in the year of the dog, just like my brother.] My grandma raised my sister and me, as well as my cousin who's staying with her family at our house, but my brother mostly had nannies and daycare. Last night my grandma was remarking how all three of the kids she raised were very well-behaved. And I add: however we might have been when we were younger. My cousin, whom my sister and I visited for a summer once, was quite mischievous and wild back then, but now she's so responsible and polite, I almost didn't recognize her last time we met in Taiwan.
Perhaps that's part of why my brother's such a monster, but there's probably a lot more to it.
ETA: My mom ended up telling a story about my brother. Unsurprisingly, it was about him being . . . fat. [I mean, both my sister and I are overweight now, but we weren't when we were little. My brother started that way, apparently.] The first day he was at daycare, all three of the teachers there tried to change his diaper but for the life of them couldn't get the new one on. So one of them had to drive to the store and get the super extra large ones. My parents hadn't known such a thing existed, and they started using those, too. Fortunately, my brother was potty-trained soon after.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-13 07:36 am (UTC)Personally, I would tell the stories about how I cut holes in my mom's bedsheet with scissors, and how Super Mario traumatized me.
All of those stories are very inaccurate reflections of current-day me. =D
no subject
Date: 2006-07-13 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 10:20 am (UTC)Well, after the picking was done and everybody came inside the house, it was time to feed the baby, but somehow my sister refused to open her mouth. My mom was confused since she was pretty sure my sister must be hungry, so she finally decided to pry open my sister's mouth to get the bottle in.
Turns out my sister had managed to pick and eat an orange tree leaf without my mom ever noticing. I guess little kids like to copy the adults, and since my mom had been picking things, I guess she decided to imitate her and pick something too.
Incidentally, all of the stories about me are about how dumb/innocent I was. I hope they aren't reflections on me right now either...