Sisters are a prize

I have not won much in my life. It’s very rare I will enter a contest because I don’t want to face the disappointment of losing. When I was about eight years old I mustered up the courage to enter a competition sponsored by a cereal company. It entailed writing a commercial. Mine involved cavemen, a time machine and a box of cereal. To my amazement I came in second place. I won money and my very own camera. I was overjoyed. That camera was a treasure. I took it everywhere and held it in the highest esteem.

Without my realization I had already won a prize that exceeded that long forgotten camera: It was my little sister. When I was six years old, my life changed forever. It was the day my sister was born. I can’t remember being very impressed with our first meeting. But my apathy soon turned to affection. This new addition to our family was just what we needed. Much like my youngest daughter, my sister was spirited and stubborn. She was tenacious! You must need these qualities to thrive as the baby in the family.

For the first time, I felt a bond that I would only feel again when my own children were born. It was a protective, maternal love. I worried about her, I tried to discipline her, I watched over her. At the same time she drove me crazy. I felt my parents let her get away with more than my brother and I could even think about.

Then we grew up. I moved out and our relationship changed. I would come to visit and we began enjoying spending time together. We had the same perspective, came from the same background and had inherited the same sense of humor. What more could you ask for in a friend? To this day, my sister is my closest ally. It’s hard to find a better companion than your own flesh and blood.

When I was pregnant with my third child, I hoped that it would be a girl. I wanted my daughter to have a sister. They too are six years apart, and my oldest has taken on the same motherly role. We let our youngest get away with more than my first two could even think about. They fight, they laugh, they cry … in short, they’re sisters. I hope that someday they realize how valuable they are to each other. Because a sister is a prize of the highest esteem.

I wish I was more like my father

My dad was exceptionally smart: he avoided my teenage years. He was a kid at heart, which made him a much-desired father until I reached the age of about ten and his crazy antics started to embarrass me. We had many good times and imaginary adventures. I only saw the good side of my dad. That can be an advantage of not living with one of your parents.

After I had my first daughter, our relationship changed. Here was a man that I had not seen more than once a month, but who was now at my house almost every day. He adored his first and only grandbaby, and I got to see a side of him I never knew. He was a natural grandparent, fun and silly, despite his silver hair.

A good father will provide their children with strength and security. An excellent father will couple this with tenderness and playfulness. Their children know they have nothing to worry about, they enjoy themselves, they have fun. They experience the true meaning of childhood.

My father may have failed in other areas of his life but being a dad wasn't one of them. He possessed qualities that I will always envy. He had the ability to make others shine. To make them feel as if they were truly special. He was strong, but his strength never overshadowed his tenderness. Despite heartache his playful spirit never evaporated. Laughter was always his antidote. These are gifts not all possess, myself included, which is why I can tell you with all my heart that I wish I was more like my father.

I am just like my mother

My mother is amazing! She is generous, creative, industrious, loving, determined and independent. I am thankful that she has raised me to have some of these same traits. When we were young, she always stayed at home with us, when most moms were working. She was my world and I adored her.

Then, around the time I became a teenager, my parents divorced. As many of us know, divorce changes our perspective on everything. And that included my mom. I saw that she was not perfect after all. She made mistakes. Yet, despite these trials, I somehow managed to survive puberty with our relationship intact.

I am still unsure of the day it happened, but I know from experience that most woman reach an age when one fact is unavoidable: they are just like their mother! This is not on purpose. It is probably not even conscience. These are the things you do when no one is around, the decisions you make on a day-to-day basis, how you handle stress, how you treat your children, how you talk to your husband. Yep, all learned from good old mom!

Then you have your own daughter, and it starts from the beginning. She learns from you. You are her role model, and all that you know is what your mom taught you. That is when you turn to Motherhood for Dummies, many self-help books and possibly years of counseling.

Unfortunately, it all comes back to this simple fact. You are just like your mother! Go ahead say it: “I am just like my mom.” Cherish it, embrace it. Take all those good and bad qualities she gave you and build on them. They are the foundation, and each mother is a stepping stone for the next generation.

Dysfunctional is the new functional

Growing up, I was pretty sure that my family was abnormal. I have read the books, and know for a fact that I fall into the dysfunctional category. Denial is pointless. The truth is that even the ones who seemed to have perfect functioning families were only illusionist. They knew how to put on an amazing performance. Those in my family are not entertainers, they are the real thing.

When I was a teenager, a friend encouraged me to go through counseling. She said, “You don’t know how dysfunctional you are until you see a counselor.” For some odd reason, that didn’t sound appealing. I did understand I had some issues, but counseling would not have changed the family I was born into.

What are some characteristics of the dysfunctional person? You’re impatient, you judge yourself and others harshly, you fear failure, sabotage your own success, have low self-esteem, are afraid to trust and unable to let go, play or have fun. You take yourself very seriously, you’re a perfectionist and crave validation from others. As you know by now, these are some of my strongest qualities.

So, to stereotype, I am dysfunctional! My family is dysfunctional! You would see our photos on the recall list at Wal-Mart if it were a possibility. We have impaired function, but we have adapted. As the body will compensate in times of injury, so has my family.

What they lack, they will make for up in other areas. They are far from perfect, but I now realize they are normal. They are just like 99.9% of all other families. There still may be a handful who fall into the “functional” category, but I have never met them. So if you have been given the “dysfunctional” label, pat yourself on the back. It’s a big accomplishment. If you haven’t, you are either a small minority or are in complete denial.

Let them value you

Many small, life long events led to my loss of value. Because I battle feelings of worthlessness, I manage to sabotage my own efforts. I never feel like I deserve the best. I wonder if I am worthy of the affection I am given. Am I worthy of the many blessings I have received? Feelings of unworthiness are like rust, they slowly and corrosively damage even the best relationships.

These feelings usually start in childhood. From birth, children need to know how valuable they are. If the parent tells a child by word or action that anything is more important than one of the strongest bonds in the universe, it will cause permanent damage, that may take years to show up. All the child will understand is that they have come in second place to a new relationship, work, alcohol, drugs, or any other item the parent chooses over them. They will always feel they are not important enough to be a priority, this makes them incapable of appreciating their own magnificence.

It is extremely difficult for the unworthy to accept that they may be valuable to others, that what they say matters, that they are needed and cherished. If we don’t let others appreciate us, we are limiting them. They want to express their gratitude, but we deny it. They want to show us adoration, but we ignore it. We are cheating everyone involved. We might not feel like a work of art, but to someone else we may be the Mona Lisa. So the next time you are fortunate enough to have someone realize your true value, let them.