Sibling disparities

When forming opinions about people, we usually base our conclusions on generic factors such as their upbringing, their nationality, whatever they happen to be wearing that day.

But what most people don't take into account is the number of older or younger siblings a person has, one of the biggest factors in shaping an individual. It isn't just a matter of nationality or education, but also where you fall in the family line.

No matter what the chemistry is between members of the family, the first-born child always bears the mark of their parents' inexperience. This can go to one extreme, where the parents constantly fuss over the child's every hiccup and celebrate it every time the kid drops a deuce by camcorder-documenting the event.

The inexperience can also fall to the other extreme, where the child has to pull himself up by his own bootstraps immediately following birth. My friend P.J., whose mother had him at 15, came out with a briefcase and a portfolio. He was treated like a neglected house cat, so by the time he was 16 months old he had already taught himself how to walk and talk.

I'll admit though, I fell more into the first category. Being the oldest of three daughters, I was worshipped like an Egyptian cat before the other two came along. It had its benefits, but after being sheltered for so long it was intimidating to step out into a world of dishonest people and dirty jokes. I was scared to leave the house until my mid-teens.

Either way, one of the biggest responsibilities for the oldest child is breaking all the barriers. In fact, first-borns spend much of their mid-teens trying to hack their way through parental safeguards with a machete. They set precedents for warriors to come.

Middle children usually have it a little easier, as the shock of raising offspring has worn off. They oftentimes play the peaceful mediator between the oldest and youngest ones, linking the age gap. Sometimes, as with my cousin Carl, they use the older one's stuff to beat the younger ones.

Being the second child can also be just as frustrating as being the first. My friend Karen suffers as a result of her mother's "First-Born Son Syndrome." The oldest boy is infallible in her eyes and Karen can do nothing right. It's unfortunate when parents pick favorites, because the ones who are snubbed bear the scar well into adulthood.

Parenting can become pretty casual by the time you get to the third kid. Instead of receiving dozens of roses in the hospital, you're lucky if you get a single carnation.

The youngest child can sometimes bear the brunt of their parents' hopes and dreams (especially if the first few children turn out to be deadbeats), but with being the youngest comes the added bonus of having older siblings to lay out the land. My sister Claire has a very sarcastic, worldly view for being only 13 (compliments of myself and Becky), and stays out of the house whenever possible. Of course, this also makes it harder for her to do anything new or shocking.

My friend Peg, the youngest of three in her family, says that she's learned what not to do from her brother and sister as well. Granted, her older brother committed 12 felonies and 33 misdemeanors before becoming a minister, and her sister had all five children taken away by Child Protective Services, but it still stands to reason that any baby of the family will learn what one should avoid doing in life.

Being an only child is by no means terrible, but at the same time I look at my single-serving friends and wish they had had the experience of brothers and sisters. The responsibility of acting as all three falls on their shoulders in absence of another kid. Not to mention, siblings are fun. They give you a much richer perspective.

Most college students have separated their own ambitions from the ones that their parents have for them, but the way they were perceived as children stays with them through life, going as far as to affect their career choices and their own children. Even their housecats.