Sharing

People always assume that the only child is spoiled rotten. I will light the way and show you the truth. Children with jillions of siblings are the selfish ones. They grow up fighting and finagling for their fair share of affection, quality time, new shoes and sometimes food. As adults, they tend to hang on tightly to what is rightfully theirs.

I find only children to be the opposite. We didn't have to share in our childhood so our parents drilled the importance of giving and sharing into us. Need a car? Borrow mine. Need some books? I'll put a box together for you. Need a shoulder to cry on? I always have time. Are you in trouble or scared? I'll put clean sheets on the guest bed and tuck you in.

Being an only child is supposedly very lonely but that's not reality. I have this posse of friends, aunts, cousins who make me feel like siblings. Plus, I have my pseudo sister and especially my goldies.

Entitled to a Vacation

"Cross check and call forward" is one of my favorite phrases. Lately, it hasn't been for happy occasions. I've been on more planes and in more rental cars than I care to count.

Yes, I'm being selfish. Go ahead. Label me. "She's an only child. She's used to getting her way." I'll laugh at that one all the way to the bank. Then I'll take my quarter and throw it at you.

My January escape is Phoenix. I didn't go. The Belle was ill and I wanted to be here. My next escape is Florida in March. I went, knowing Hangdog was facing surgery. I went knowing the husband was on the opposite coast. Then, I learned the brothers were coming in to support their father. I had two days in glorious sunshine before I cut my trip short due to his death.

The airlines must love me. I've paid to change flights and rearrange plans. Somehow, in the midst of these plans, I've missed my vacations.

When the Belle died, the husband and I schlepped Hangdog to Mississippi for the funeral. You cannot consider yourself a veteran traveler until you've arranged for wheelchairs and taken someone with a pacemaker through security. Twice we propped him at the gate and ran -- RAN! -- for a Bloody Mary.

This trip was just the two of us. No security snafus. No need to stop in the men's room nineteen times. However, we did deal with plane changes, missed connections, luggage due at another time, changing rental cars in a different city, tracking down luggage at 5:30 AM and more.

Hangdog took every offered item (useful or not) that he might be entitled to have. I have a sh** load of stuff in my basement to prove it.

Selfish Sheri wants a vacation.

Fighting over the Dog Pillow

Houseboy and his family took great care of my dog while we attended to family matters. He and his wife brought Gabby back today and the first thing she did was head for my office and her pillow. I suspect their dog gave her a little run for her money.

I am still weepy and emotional. I am also one of those weird people who likes dog smells. Puppy breath? Bring it on. I wanted to curl on the dog pillow and wallow in my sorrow.

So, I decided I would just put my head down for a second and reflect on the last few days. Like me, the dog is an only child (in this household) and she doesn't do the sharing thing well.

She pawed me and I kept saying, "Move over Fungus!" Then we fell asleep for 10 minutes or so.

I am used to sprawling with Big Daddy and griping about pillows and covers. I have reached a new arena. Gabby and I are wrestling for the dog pillow.

Watching Sibling Love

My life, although stressful, is pretty cushy. As an only child, I never realized the power of a sister or a brother watching out for you. (But now I do have my sister to boss around.) My childhood was damn cushy.

I wish the same could be said for my parents and their siblings. Reminiscing is fun and I love most of the stories. There are many that cause a belly laugh. Luckily, both of my parents and their sisters have amazing senses of humor.

They also all had different versions of bad childhoods. Sometimes I can't listen to those stories. I go into Sheri's World because it hurts my heart to hear them.

No one dwells on the negative. Each person has dealt with it in his or her own way. They've managed to go on and create stable and loving families. (The jury's still out on my stability.)

The oldies did their best raising four boys but in my uneducated opinion, the brothers aren't very close to the oldies or their siblings. It seems to me that it's more duty and obligation.

On the other hand, my parents have this close and bonded relationship with their siblings. My mother talks (or emails) with her sisters almost every day. They disagree, they get frustrated and yet, it's a lifeline.

My father and I went to the airport yesterday to pick up his sister. He was giddy with the anticipation of seeing her. And they both lit up like neon signs when they spotted each other.

They've survived their storms, although there are more to come. Seeing a face that looks a lot like yours and knowing this kind of love is precious. And heart warming.

Trading Cars

At my request, the husband and I traded cars today. Even though it was my idea, it makes me nervous. I ride with him a lot and I think he is an agressive driver. Also, he will not let me take him through the tutorial so he'll just be pushing buttons and I will have to reset everything.

I don't even particularly like my car. It's way too complicated. Still, some only child gene rears its ugly head and it's MINE! Be careful with it.

The oldies don't have this issue. He's legally blind and she is the only driver. The blindness must come and go because he's always playing navigator.

The only qualm Big Daddy has about me driving his car is dog hair. He didn't want the dog in the passenger seat. I couldn't make this promise so I had to swear to have it vacuumed. I don't know what the big deal is. His car is a mess and I am usually the only one to sit in the passenger seat.

So, he took my car. The one with all the dog hair in it.

The Oldest Child

There was a study released last week about intelligence differences between siblings. What I took away is that there is significant evidence that the eldest child often has the highest IQ. Then the debate began again.

Is it nature or nurture? Is it because parents spend more time with the first born? Are these first born people smarter intellectually but maybe less savvy because they've been more overprotected than their younger siblings?

My IQ is a mystery to me. I suspect my parents know it; we were all tested as kids. I don't want to know. I'm pretty sure I won't be getting an invitation from Mensa.

My status as an only child is secure. Que sera sera ... it's not going to change now.

The oldies had four children. The oldest is very smart in an IQ type of way. I'm not convinced that he has the best street smarts.

The oldies labeled their boys: the athlete, the brain, the fun one, the baby. (These are my words; not theirs.) Those tags tend to stick around.

Caregiving

I hope there's a special spot in heaven for people who have been caregivers. I also hope you get to spend some time alone there.

I know people who have and/or still are caring for aging parents. I know people who care for siblings. Unfortunately, I know people who have become caregivers for their ill children. (They deserve the penthouse.)

As an only child, I had my own room and a lot of privacy. I still crave that.