Brother and Sister

Emma is four and a HALF (she says with emphasis) and in my opinion, going on 35 or 80. Wise beyond her years, yet still a little girl. She is also claims her place as Ryan's "big sister" although she is three years younger than he. I sometimes worry about her tendency to take care of him and wonder whether Down Syndrome is robbing her of something. I've decided to quietly observe, as though I were on an intergalactic mission on the Starship Enterprise, dutifully resisting the temptation to interfere. Their Mom and Dad have those harder, more complex decisions to make.

My intuition tells me to focus on my self-assigned role: a lumpy and imperfect combination of unconditional love, safety monitor, source of fun and laughter and comfort, repairer of minor toy and body mishaps, impartial referee, and a conscious example of living the best life I know how. And everything I say or do is being observed and absorbed and reflected back or judged aloud (Grandma, you're supposed to add the water FIRST).

I used to suggest to Em that she gets to act like a little girl while I am on board -- that she doesn't need to work so hard at watching over her brother ("Grandma, you forgot his book;" "Grandma, he doesn't like that shirt"), but I've given that up. She seems to keep a good eye on her own needs as well as his.

In addition to the bear hugs and obvious love they share, there is, of course, sibling rivalry! One of my biggest challenges when taking care of them both at once is to be attentive to each of them, without playing favorites.

It's flattering to be so wanted, but not at all easy to share my focus or even my lap with them both! They have two opposite styles of playing most of the time. Emma is interactive and wants to be in the spotlight, and she's constantly pushing at the edges ("Grandma, watch this!" as she twirls perilously close to the lamp). Ri lights up  and squeals with delight when I arrive, gives me a big hug, and invites me to play quietly with him ("Grandma, build house.") He tends to step back when Em wants the limelight, which is most of the time. If I sit with Ry, Em wants to sit right in the middle. If Ry is using a toy or a book, it's suddenly the one she wants.

I've always had a soft spot for the underdog, so I have to remember to be  neutral: she's doing exactly what she's supposed to be doing -- honing her survival skills! She has learned to ask for what she wants, even remembering to say "please," yet there's a certain passiveness in Ry that she counts on, with only an occasional "hey!" of protest from him when he's feeling especially strong. I step in sometimes and remind her that the toy/project/snack she wanted so much just a moment earlier is still hers. And sometimes I just let it go, hoping that he might be learning to be a bit more assertive, and knowing that I will not always be there to soften the world's demands.

The hugs, the wide eyes, the silly giggling, and the cries of frustration and skinned knees - I love my Fridays! I am often bone-weary when I make the two-hour drive home, singing along as my internal radio plays the "Hokey-Pokey" or "Slippery Fish."

Has Down Syndrome made a difference between the two of them and the three of us? Definitely, but so far, I can't create neat columns of what's good and what's bad. It's all part of the mix that binds us together as family. And I get to be Grandma! Slippery fish, slippery fish, swimming in the water...