Stuck in the middle with you - Ode to a middle child
Posted Monday 2nd April 2012 By Ericka Waller
The husband spent the night downstairs with the baby, so I could get some sleep... (did not work)
Next morning, twenty months came downstairs and saw the baby's moses basket on the floor. She promptly removed her nappy and did a massive poo, right where baby's head goes (Baby was not in the basket at the time)
I have often likened my middle daughter to a dog. It's due to behaviour like this.
She is jealous, isn't she? of the baby? I was a selfish, mean mummy to have a third child so quickly, wasn't I? To have one at all? I have denied twenty months the chance of being a baby. Instead she is "the middle one". Neither big, nor little, first, nor last.
I found the following information on middle-child-syndrome.
The middle child, unlike the others, is not given much attention. The following are just some characteristics that define middle children.
Middle children have low self-esteem.
They need support for anything they do, sometimes talents are wasted when they do not pursue their dreams. Middle children have a feeling of emptiness.They are always lonely and are jealous of others. This is a very broad trait, since it affects every aspect of their lives.
They may be a little weird, unfriendly and even worse, psychotic because of this feeling of emptiness.
And that's her. That's my middle one. She will do anything for attention. She pulls hair, scratches, bites, screams, poos in baskets, wees on high chairs. She shouts and stamps and smashes and shrieks.
And this is her too. She stands at the side, suspicious, watching. She clutches her charlie cloth. She wraps herself round my leg. She shys away from stranger's smiles.
When she is not in sight, I know just where to find her. Behind her bedroom door, hidden under a pile of blankets, humming. A safe, warm, world she has created for herself.
And this is her too. The loudest, the funniest. The fastest. The one who will always wear a silly hat for a sad sister to make her smile. The one who always pulls the happiest face for the camera. The one who won't rest till we five are all crammed on the sofa together.
She "rolls all her strength and all her sweetness up into one ball, And tears her pleasures with rough strife, Thorough the iron gates of life." (poem)
She is the one the school will phone me about. She will turn my last hair grey.
There is a tiny piece of my heart, carved out just for her. From the second I first saw her, blue and unbreathing (cord round her neck) I felt my heart sink and sag and stretch and grow and bleed and break all at once.
She can still do this to me with a look. Tread carefully baby, for you tread on my dreams.
One day when she is older, I will show her this blog.
Till then my girl, I'm stuck in the middle with you