I'm a contributor too

I was changing some settings in Google and noticed that I'm a contributor to this blog as well. Imagine that. So I thought I'd assert my blogginess here to keep our blog going in some continuous fashion (this is heavily inspired by the fact that our friends, the Barnes, arealways updating their blog, and it's so good that even my sister follows it... *sigh*).

This last weekend was Laura's Senior Recital. The whole event has made me rather reflective (much, I'm sure, to Jaimie's annoyance). The bottom line of my reflection: a big family is both a massive blessing and at the same time full of heartache. Who among you have an instant 9 friends to call up and talk to, 9 people to visit and invite to your house for a good time, 9 people to blame for your childhood woes, and 9 people to blame for the best times of your life? (Not to mention their spouses/significant others and kids).

But that's 9 people you forget to call every week, 9 people whose birthdays you do little more for than send the (often late) card, that's 9 more people's feelings you have to worry about when making Christmas plans, and 9 more ways for your family to get mad.

Being the 6th child, I have had the odd position of being actively involved in the lives of all my siblings. I've watched Jessica go from my super-(second)-mom to her two kids' (first) super-mom. I learned the great ninja ways of mountain lion traps and eucalyptus leaf teas from Jason. I don't know how many 3D puzzles I helped Don with or how many nights he kept me awake kicking my bed from his bunk below. Sarah and I were the (obnoxious) shrimp duo. Barbara and I were bitter enemies until high school, when she was the best older sister known to humankind. Laura and I searched the car seat-cushions for enough money to buy Taco Bell after our weekly piano lessons. Ammon went from annoying to tender. John changed from moody to helpful. Dallon's just Dallon and that's great. He's probably a little too much like me.

Watching Laura deal with the enormous stress that culminated before her recital was such an eye opener. I realized how little I could help, and how little I was there for her when things were hardest. I suppose every older brother one day wishes he'd done more. I think about Jason and how often he was there to give me advice, and yet how little advice I can give him now. Who was Jessica's second mother? I never taught Dallon how to catch mountain lions. I don't include Don in my 3D puzzles. And nobody was looking out for Barbara in high school.

But then it's not all bad. Sometimes we're lucky and have the opportunity to give back. The night before the recital, Laura was so stressed she began to cry. I didn't know what else to do but give her a hug and let her stain my nice white shirt with mascara. I don't think it did all that much for Laura, but at least I got to tell her what we all need to hear sometimes: you're doing a great job, and you'll keep doing it.

I've reached the end of my reflective-ness with nothing to conclude. I guess it's where I started: big family = big blessing = heartache. That's 9 people who, without explanation, provide a full and rich life. It's 9 people I worry about. It's 9 people I see make good and bad choices, and 9 people to watch me make mine. But I suppose, most importantly, it's 9 people I wish I could tell (without feeling embarrassed or cheesy) how well they really are doing in life, how proud I am of them (if that matters), and how much I look up to them.

But then again, that would be 9 more phone calls I don't know I'll ever make.