IT’S all about girl power in my household.
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Not exactly surprising considering we are three strong-willed people of the feminine persuasion.
Which is just how I like it.
As a highly independent woman, I love teaching my daughters about the importance of self-reliance.
They’re not quite there yet – the girls still expecting their dirty clothes strewn across their bedroom floors to magically transport themselves to the laundry.
But we’re getting there.
However, Ayla seems to think there might be something missing from our liberated lives.
A male.
She thinks I should find a boyfriend but not, as you would hope, for her dear mother’s own happiness. Oh, no. Nothing like that.
No, I need a boyfriend because Ayla wants a brother.
And her shopping love list is even specific about what kind of brother that is – he must be a big brother.
Ayla, it has transpired, is sick and tired of being the big sister and so her only hope of an older sibling is through me finding a man with older children.
As a first-born myself, I can relate to Ayla’s longing for an older sibling.
While I loved bossing around my younger sister and being a second mum to my baby sister, I hated having all the pressure put on me.
As most firstborns would agree, our parents were stricter with us than any subsequent siblings – and expected more of us because we were the eldest.
It was the cause of many arguments and tempestuous tantrums in my childhood (thankfully I had plenty of artwork that conveniently covered up the holes in my walls).
But as much as I despised my parents for giving in to the whims of my younger sisters while I bore most of the punishment, I guess it made me who I am.
Because mum and dad pushed me to do my best, I became an over-achiever (and my competitive nature was born) but at the time, all I saw was my sisters getting off easy, while I got the “we expected more from you Ivy”.
Those guilt trips were the worst. Give me a smack any day. Anything but the “we’re not angry, just disappointed” retort.
Because I was the oldest, I was the one who was grounded after having the out-of-control house party, complete with cops and angry parents.
By the time my sisters did anything wrong, my parents – and their punishment scale – had softened significantly.
When I was younger, I promised myself my parenting style would be completely different to my upbringing.
Yet, here I am; the mother of a daughter who accuses me of being much tougher on her than her younger sister.
As much as I want to disagree with that, I can’t.
Maybe that’s her reasoning for wanting an older sibling?
Someone to take the heat off her?
Looking back to my childhood, I dreamed of having a big brother too.
With my dad being the one and only man in the family, the gender scales were definitely skewed to one side.
While my sisters, our mum and I all got along like a house on fire, it could also very quickly become an inferno.
Possibly another male in the house could have provided a bit more balance to the household; but it was not to be.
And after having two daughters myself, estrogen rules my household too.
So, while Ayla starts scanning potential suitors for me, the addition of ‘must have a son older than 13’ has been added to my growing ‘perfect partner’ wish list.
In fact, the list is so demanding, so detailed and so exact, I am pretty confident in saying a man this good is probably too good to be true.
Don’t tell Ayla, but if she does pin down my man of her dreams, I might have a few wishes of my own to be fulfilled.
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