My Favorite Gift

Unlike most people, I did not get to be a carefree child for long. Even though I always said that I could not wait to grow up, now I wish that it all did not happen so fast and early in my life. From eleven to twelve years old—that would be the period I describe as the time I had to put my big-girl pants on and face the real, cruel and unwelcoming adult world. In that time period, I can specifically pinpoint two major events that ended my childhood: my move from Russia to the United States and the birth of my baby sister Toma. To some those might not seem significant enough to change someone’s life to the extent that they changed mine; however those events molded me into the person I am today.

I remember on my first day of preschool, my mom told me, “Abby, don’t tell your teachers about your family.” Sitting in my car seat, at the age of 4, I was starting to become overwhelmed with confusion. This confusion bubbled up inside me for years. I had so many questions that I wanted to ask my moms, but I did not have the courage or the strength to ask. Then I grew up. My perspective on the world changed, and I realized that my parents were seen as a calamity to society. That was my perspective though. I wondered what my mom’s was. How did she grow up in a world that only saw her as a flaw in the system? So I asked. Beth Shaffer’s perspective on her past, the present, and the future is an astonishing story.

This memoir has made me realize how much easier my life is than children who live in poorer countries, with many siblings. It has made me realize how lucky I am, because I was never told to watch younger siblings and take care of them. I never had to fight over clothes because we didn’t have very many, and it was a once a year event to get used clothes from family.

I had been an only child for eight years so when my parents told me I was going to be a big sister I was shocked. I thought I was going to be an only child my whole life. It was normal for me to do things alone and I’m normally not thrilled about change but I was excited. We decided to name him Houston Michael Peters. He was originally supposed to be born on the thirty first of January, the same day as my dad. But he was born 2 days early on the twenty-ninth of January two thousand and fourteen and that's the day my life changed for the better.

We had just celebrated the new year, a sign of new beginnings. The past fall my mother and I had a fight and were only communicating on a need to know. I had a boyfriend at the time, we had been dating for almost two years. I loved him and he loved me and I felt like nothing could ever go wrong, boy was I wrong. It was a cold morning, I woke up feeling strange but I could not quite figure out why. Jacob, my boyfriend, was the one who put the idea in my head. A couple hours later my life had went from just a normal nineteen year old, to being a nineteen year old facing being a mother. I was pregnant and there was nothing I could do to change that. Telling my parents, especially my mother was nearly impossible, “[a]nd after seeing my mother’s disappointed face once again, something inside of me began to die” (Tan 321).

On January 29, 2001 at around four o’clock in the afternoon, a beautiful little girl named Leslie Arreaga was born. It was the first time I was able to hold and see a baby so up close. When I saw her for the first time I didn’t know what to say. All I told my parents was “ I love her and she is perfect.” My parents laugh at me because I was only four years old when she was born. I just couldn’t believe that I was finally an older sister. I remember that every time a person would come in and try to hold her I would give them a look saying “ If you hurt her, I will hurt you.” Leslie was the most precious little baby I had ever seen in my little four year life. She was so chubby, with big brown eyes and a little heart shaped mouth. The day my

Bills began to pile up once again and eventually stress took over. My father demanded all of the income made in the family in order to pay for the bills.”Where are your salaries?!” he would yell outside my bedroom door. Of course, my mom and siblings gladly obliged. By this time my older sister’s were in their early 20s and I and the sister before me were still little children. I was still young to understand everything, but as I look back, I realize we weren’t exactly the happiest

In fact, our differences lead to unity in times of outer conflict. According to the article “Theoretical Perspectives on Sibling Relationships,” “as siblings mature, they become more responsible to the needs of one another” (Whiteman, Shawn D., Susan M. McHale, and Anna Soli). That is true for me and my sister. As we’ve grown older, we have learned to resolve our differences and focus on building our relationship as adults. We may be opposites in interests, but our polarity draws us closer together. Though our conversations still resemble those of Laura and Lizzie--“Lizzie with an open heart, Laura in an absent dream” (209-211)-- we now confide in one another with secrets that we would not dare tell anyone

The weather was warm yet brisk at the same time as I walked from my grandparent’s new house to the car. As I attempted to squeeze into the backseat, it finally sunk in just how much stuff my sister thought she had to bring with her. I moronically asked her, “Why on earth would you possibly need all of this stuff?” All I got in return was a menacing glare from my sister Erin and a quick “STOP” from my mom. I thought to myself, “Just a few more hours and she’ll be gone forever, peace and quiet will finally be mine.” I could not have been more wrong.

My life changed when I traveled for four days across the world to Ganzhou province with my family to adopt my two-year-old sister. My family status rose and my responsibilities increased as I was one of the people she idolized. This new role taught me to take initiative and become a leader to positively guide her. The responsibilities of being her older sister became a second nature; I was always there to support, motivate, care, and love her. As I embraced sisterhood, responsibility meant something more to me. I learned to put others before myself and make sacrifices to keep my values of family, balance, and success in line. These life lessons I learned built the foundation of my lifelong relationship with my younger sister. Being involved in my family shaped me into a responsible young adult, while pushing me become the best version of

All the lights, beaming, burning down on the shy 10 year old, frozen in the sudden spotlight, unsure whether to sing, or to run off the stage. Expectations all of a sudden changed from just a part of the choir now to leading the choir, through this unexpected solo. In a sense that’s what it felt like, I was thrust into the role of man of the house after my older brother went off to college and later medical school, and I wasn’t quite ready for it. There was only time to learn on my own and take what my older brother taught me to be responsible in the household. All of a sudden, everything was put in a stronger light, and it felt as if I was watched, and critiqued more than I used to be. For me to be the man my family wished me to be, it was either grow up, or give up; there was no time to be a baby, there was no time to take my time. The edge to do the right thing was mightier than it may have been for another 10 year old. From watching over the house when my mom wasn’t home, to taking care of my brother everyday, my days now consisted of homework, housework, and a daycare role for my brother. Yet given the circumstances, this 10 year old persevered. He disregarded the new “spotlight,” the new intensified responsibilities, and instead of running off the stage, embraced the role, and embodied the new responsibilities instead of shying away from them. Seven years

Since this essay seems to be getting a bit more personal, I might as well discuss the role I play in my family. I am the oldest child in a family of six children: five girls and one boy. The age differences range from one and a half years old to eighteen years old. I love children, but in a way I really don’t have much of a choice. It is only natural to be somewhat of a second mother to my

Catherine's older sister Karin was the same age as me, 12 years old. Her parents had the latest 'mod cons' shipped out from the USA and her bedroom was decked out with hot pink shag pile carpet and a white fourposter bed with gold trimming and pale pink floral fabric, which flowed delicately in all the right places. My bedroom had the bare necessities, which was all I really needed or wanted. My bedroom was very basic with no signs of femininity and I was okay with that. I also didn't like wearing frills or lace. I thought it was rather 'lame'. What I initially found very fascinating about Karin was thatshe had 'boobs', which she was particularly proud of, and I was very flat chested. I'd never met anyone my age with 'boobs' before. She convinced me that that's what boys like, and also emphasized the greatimportance of being liked by boys. She persuaded me to wear one of her old training bras and stuff it with tissues. I was so in 'awe' of her that I complied. There were only a couple of older boys on the mission station and they were actually teenagers, so their approval of our maturing young bodies, well... hers in particular, was very important. Before Karin had arrived the thought of attracting the attention of a boy didn't even register in my mind seeing as I was just one of them, mostly. I grew up with two brothers and mostly all male cousins so taking part in 'boyish' activities

My parents took custody of my sister’s children, which then began the chaotic day-to-day home life that usually left me in tears by bedtime. I was in middle school at the time, as a middle school aged girl I felt a whirlwind of emotions. I wanted to do things that other kids my age were doing but that wasn’t always possible. With very mentally handicap children in our home it wasn’t easy to just invite a friend over to come spend the night, not only would my mom say no but also I was far too embarrassed. I wanted to go out and eat in a restaurant like I heard my friends talking about, but no, going out to eat with my sister’s children would be very difficult because they couldn’t sit still or refrain from making loud noises in public places. I wanted my mom to take my friend and I to the movies rather than always going with a friend and their mom, but my mom was always tied down to caring for my sister’s

The day I woke up to this soon to be life changing turn of events, I thought it was just going to be a normal day with my mom, not doing anything out of the ordinary or particularly special. I woke up late in the morning, like I always did on a morning in the summer time, and did nothing all day. I was just doing the usual things a twelve year old girl did in the summer: watch television, eat junk food and play on my phone. I was at my mom’s that day, but I was going to my dad’s house later that day to stay for the weekend. Mom and dad usually met up somewhere later in the day around four or five in the afternoon.