The Third Wheel

When people ask me about my kids, I tell them I have a girl and a boy.

“Oh, perfect! One of each!”

They always look a little alarmed when I tell them I’m expecting another. Why would I need another? I have my girl, and I have my boy. I just shrug and tell them I love babies.

The truth is, I’ve always known I wasn’t “done,” no matter how balanced everything is with that even denominator. I know I want another.

Now, I must tell you this: I will be happy with whatever the Lord gives me.

But if I’m honest, I’ll tell you I secretly hope for another girl.

Why? Because I want Coco to have a sister.

I come from a large family. We have four boys and two girls. My sister is one of the greatest gifts God ever gave me. No joke. My brother who came right before her was greeted with wrath.

“Send him back!” I shrieked to my parents.

My sister?

She was like a fluffy, cotton-candy, angel-scented gift from up-above. I loved her instantly. Fiercely. And I’ve never stopped.

We’re five years apart, my sis and I. She was my baby doll. The person I could boss around and bribe. She literally would do anything I told her to do. That was both fun and dangerous. {I actually got her tipsy about fifteen years before her legal age–but that’s a story for another time.}

She was my third wheel. Always lingering around my friends and I. Oh yes, I would get annoyed when she would camp out in the closet during my slumber parties. Her ear glued to the door.

My husband and I started dating in high school and once again, my sister was the third wheel.

She positioned herself as his other little sister and demanded attention, consideration, and respect. I would wait for my 16 year old boyfriend to complain about the third wheel.  I agonized over what would happen should he ever complain.

You know what?

He never did. Kirsten made it more fun. She charged right through our hormonal, twitter-pated love-feast and demanded that we have fun. With her.

She was my wingman, chaperone, and responsibility–all rolled into one. What she thought about my boyfriend and me mattered a great deal.

Somewhere along the way, I got cold feet and broke up with him.

“He was perfect for you!” she blubbered through bitter tears. My sister was only twelve years old and yet, she knew me almost better than I did. She made a point to pray–out loud–that Matt would take me back.

Sisters are the best of friends because they’ll tell you the truth without worrying about your feelings. Kirsten let me have it for getting rid of such a good guy. Fortunately, I did get him back.

I have to stop myself in what could be an endless chronicle of memories. I guess my point here is that I want my daughter to have a sister.

I want her to have another girl–another woman–with whom she can be honest, vulnerable, and strong–all at once . I want her to have a friendship that knows no bounds. A friendship that grows with years and expands in understanding.

I want my daughter, and my son for that matter, to have a third wheel. People throw that term around as if its a bad thing–the third wheel. But in my case, my little sister always helped to balance me out. She kept me from being completely self-absorbed and selfish.

I truly believe that I “put up” with my third wheel because she made me a better version of myself.  Was I hoping to live up to her standards? Yes, always.

Whatever we end up having–boy or girl–I pray that they make my boy and girl better for knowing them.