• My Life As The Middle Child


    I was born with an older sister.
    A self-centered, charismatic sister.
    She jumped in all my baby pictures,
    Played with all my toys,
    And I couldn’t do anything.
    Up until my younger sister was born.
    Then I was old enough,
    To say “No” and push.
    But it didn’t exactly matter,
    That I was old enough, I mean.
    Because the older still got the attention,
    And so did the baby.
    So where did that put me?
    Somewhere in the middle.

    We all grew up together.
    Older did everything first,
    And I had to watch,
    And get the crummy hand-me-downs.
    Younger was cute,
    And got anything she wanted.
    Where did that put me?
    In the middle,
    With crummy hand-me-downs,
    And refusals.

    I tried telling my parents,
    “It wasn’t me”,
    But that never did exactly fly.
    Older was born to be an actress,
    And Younger was too cute anyway.
    So where did that leave me?
    Somewhere in the middle,
    Always taking the blame.

    Sisters got older,
    Some things changed.
    A lot didn’t.
    Younger had ADHD,
    So more excuses for her,
    And Older was, well, older,
    Apparently, “wise and responsible”.
    Where did that leave me?
    In the middle,
    Overlooked and quiet.

    Youngest was finally born.
    And now she got the cute pass,
    But Younger still had that ADHD card,
    And Oldest was still oldest.
    Where did that leave me?
    In the middle,
    Unnoticed,
    And forced to do everything.
    And by everything,
    I mean take care of myself.

    Older got older,
    And still got excuses for just that.
    She went to college.
    Now, where did that leave me?
    Still, in the middle.
    Because somehow,
    She sent the havoc home.

    Younger got older,
    And was in the middle with me.
    But she still got away.
    Youngest got cuter,
    And soon tested for ADHD as well.
    Looks like I was,
    Stuck in the middle.
    Again.

    So there are times,
    When I ask:
    Why am I the middle child?
    Why do I put up with these things?
    But then there are times like these:
    Mom is crying in her room,
    Because Oldest was impossible,
    Like always.
    And I was the only one to comfort her.
    So she thanked me.
    For being:
    Sensible, rational,
    Emotional, sensitive,
    Patient, and kind.
    And it’s moments like those,
    That make me love being the middle child.
    And make me realize:
    I was born this way.