Brothers.

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.