Parenting Insights
It had to be Oliver’s Lego spaceship that met its demise. The curious four-year-old decided it sparkled, or looked fun, or whatever whimsical thought crossed his mind when he decided to tinker with his brother’s creation. He started by prying off one piece, followed by another, until he had a colorful pile to scatter around the house.
When seven-year-old Ethan discovered the wreckage, he erupted in tears of fury, despair, and a hint of heartbreak. After all, it was his prized spaceship, painstakingly assembled over three days with Dad’s assistance. It was as long as his arm, and his little brother had just turned it into chaos.
I comforted him as he sobbed. His father quietly gathered the scattered pieces and began the painstaking process of reconstruction, as once you’ve built a spaceship, its design is etched in your mind. We offered gentle reassurances: “I understand, and Dad will fix it. You have every right to be upset.”
Because he was upset. And we must remember: the burden of being the eldest is significant.
We must acknowledge that we place high expectations on such young shoulders. I can relate. I was the oldest sibling, albeit only sixteen months ahead of my sister, and even that felt like a huge responsibility. My sister constantly mimicked me, just as Ethan complains that his younger siblings follow his every move. If he builds with Legos, they suddenly want to join in. This has led to us purchasing junior Lego sets for Oliver, yet he still insists that Ethan help him assemble them—because it somehow feels more special that way. Ethan is a patient older brother, often indulging Oliver’s requests, but the constant stream of advice and critiques can wear thin.
Both of Ethan’s younger brothers love to join in his games. They’re particularly fond of what they call “mini-soldier battles,” a chaotic mix of Revolutionary War, pirate skeletons, and plastic soldiers with makeshift barriers. The rules are elaborate and baffling for anyone over ten.
Inevitably, something goes awry, and one of the younger siblings starts to cry, rushing out of the room in tears. More often than not, it’s Oliver or the six-year-old, who plead to join in only to get caught bending the rules. Ethan is left with an empty battlefield, scattered soldiers, and the realization that he is the only one responsible for the cleanup.
Being the eldest means taking on the role of chief cleaner. When we’ve had enough of the swords lying in the bathroom, Legos strewn across the living room, and toys piled high in their room, we often shout some variation of, “YOU WILL ALL CLEAN THIS UP OR I WILL, AND I WILL BRING A TRASH BAG.” The brunt of the cleanup usually falls to Ethan.
We don’t intend for it to be this way, but his brothers are younger and, despite their best intentions, often end up just playing instead of tidying up. So, Ethan takes on the cleanup duty while they gleefully continue their antics, oblivious to the mess.
“I don’t like Oliver and Simon very much when it’s cleanup time,” Ethan admits. I can’t blame him.
I went through a similar experience as a child. My father often attributed the messy shared room to me, despite my protests that my sister was just as guilty. The shouting continued, while she smiled innocently behind him. Eventually, when I moved to my attic room, it remained tidy, while the shared space stayed chaotic. My father even apologized.
As the eldest, additional responsibilities and expectations are placed upon you without the perks of being younger. Ethan watches as his brothers receive extra hugs and cuddles—they’re both smaller for their ages, and I often carry them around or hold their hands when we cross the street. Meanwhile, Ethan is expected to walk behind or support a brother’s hand. He no longer rides in the shopping cart or gets bedtime stories read to him now that he can read alone.
Sure, Ethan receives plenty of love, but it’s different. He doesn’t snuggle up in our bed anymore. He’s an active kid, and I can tell he misses that physical closeness from his younger days. Just the other day, he reminisced about being carried in a baby wrap, telling me, “I don’t remember what it felt like, but I know it was nice.” My heart broke a little.
We strive to make it up to him by including him in more grown-up activities. I tried to involve him in training our dog, but he lacked the patience for it. Now, as he’s expressed interest in sewing, we’re working together on a patchwork quilt, piecing it together square by square. I buy him books meant for older kids that his brothers won’t ruin, and we let him indulge in video games that don’t interest the younger ones. We aim to provide him with little extras to acknowledge his unique challenges.
Because being the eldest can be tough. To truly appreciate and connect with our firstborn, we need to remember their struggles, to see and understand them as they navigate their role. It’s a significant part of who they are and who they will become. We wouldn’t change a thing about him—he is our firstborn, the child who made me a mom. After hours of labor, he came into this world with an unexpected cry that filled my heart with love. I try to honor that moment and the journey since then. Sometimes, being the oldest sibling isn’t easy, and as parents—especially those of us who were the oldest ourselves—we must keep that in mind.
For more insights on parenting and related topics, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination, or explore how to navigate family dynamics with tools from Make a Mom.
In summary, being the eldest sibling comes with its own set of challenges, from taking on responsibilities to feeling overlooked at times. It’s essential for parents to acknowledge these struggles, support their oldest children, and appreciate the unique role they play in the family dynamic.
Keyphrase: Challenges of being the oldest sibling
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