When two people
really love each other, I mean really love each other, they can’t contain their
love and they decide to start a family. They start out as a very tiny family. A
one-room-apartment sized family. A relatively small grocery list sized family. A
we-can-live-on-just-our-love and still pay our bills, sized family. And then,
eventually, their love can’t be contained in just two bodies. And they decide
to add to their numbers. It’s kind of like starting their very own love army.
Or sports team. Or assembly of
International ambassadors. Whatever. (Team Kimmel is currently a few
players short of a batting lineup.)
When
this happens, something beautiful follows. There are tiny representations of
love crawling into the cupboards, tossing their sippy cups in Wal-Mart,
squealing on the swings at their local playgrounds, learning how (or how not
to) swim at the downtown Y. These representations are generally causing chaos
and random adorable acts in their little wakes. When the two (now three) people
decide to expand their family, another beautiful thing is created: Siblings.
One
day when I was in the car, probably listening to the sounds of my children
tandem crying, I wondered why it was so important to me that my children love
each other. And not only love, but also LIKE each other. If they were best
friends, I wouldn’t complain. I would be so thrilled I would probably brag to
anyone who would listen. But why is it so important to me? I think there are
several reasons.
The first is based on one of my original
intents of having children. Our love could not be contained. We had so much
love to give we decided to create more of us. That was Jack. After that, we
decided that we didn’t want to stop with one child, so we had another: Finn.
Now, if my love progeny showed hatred or even indifference for one another, of
course that would drive my heart to sadness. I want this love that started with
us to expand and pour out into the world as a beautiful radiant light. Granted,
I had boys, so my thoughts weighted with sentimentality will probably be
mocked. But, brothers can have a very incredible deep love for one another.
Even if they don’t say so.
The
second reason it is important to me is for their sakes. Surviving childhood is
remarkably difficult. I want to know that they are looking out for each other
up through their teenage years and beyond. And not just from outside factors,
but even from their very own home. There will be no other person in the world
that will understand what it was like growing up in our home. Ned and I will
try our hardest to be loving, wise parents. But we will make mistakes. We will
do things wrong. Our children will think we are unbearably awkward to have
around. And when they feel this way, I want them to have someone else to commiserate
with. When Finn thinks I am being overly protective of him, Jack can come to me
and be his advocate. When they have differing opinions from ours, they won’t
feel so alone.
I
hope that my children are a treasure to each other. I hope my boys go on adventures
together. I hope they build forts in the woods. I hope they climb trees, play
football, catch fish and explore the world together. I hope they strengthen
each other’s faith. I hope when my boys grow up that their families stay close.
I hope their children can have adventures.
I
guess that’s why I get a little giddy when I see how much Jack adores Finn now.
Sure, sometimes he thinks his brother is a pony, and sometimes he thinks it’s a
good idea to poke him in the eye, but the overall intent is adoration. I hope
that only continues to grow as they grow up together.
