Mother in Law: Hell hath no fury like a sibling scorned

'Can I have two Dutch braids going into a ponytail?' Deceptively Angelic Child no.2 asked me on Tuesday morning. I did a double-take. It was the first time she had asked for this hairstyle. Why? Because DALC1 regularly asked for this hairstyle. But as of today, DALC1 is no longer at her school. DALC1 was, at that moment, straightening her hair to within an inch of its life ready for Big School. DALC2 can now officially own the rights to the Dutch braid/ponytail hairstyle.

You see, DALC2 will never do the same things as DALC1. If DALC1 plays tennis, DALC2 will not. If DALC1 is good at maths, she will focus her efforts on English. If DALC1 has Dutch braids, she will categorically, definitely, only ever have French. She doesn’t want the direct comparison, or to be accused of copying. For my part, I am always comparing them. I can’t say 'DALC2 eats quite a lot of vegetables' without saying 'DALC1, on the other hand, only eats carbs'. I can’t say 'DALC1’s hair is getting darker' without reflecting that DALC2’s hair isn’t. This, I think, is simply because I am endlessly fascinated by them and how I could have grown two humans who are so different from each other. I don’t mean anything by it. But I am going to stop.

Recently I have dealt with so many disputes between siblings and they are the most vicious, deeply hurtful and entrenched of all disputes. Hell hath no fury like a sibling scorned. The standard level of courtesy and respect that humans show other humans is not present, and probably was never present - even before the dispute. Whose is the only house my brother would walk in and say loudly 'Not had time to clean recently then?' Not my mum’s, not his friends’, not his boss’ house. My house. And not only does he say it, but he says it because he knows I would prefer my house to be cleaner, and it bothers me that it is not, and that I will ruminate over the comment for months. He lulled his babies to sleep for years with a massively exaggerated and added-to bedtime story about 'that time Aunt MIL’s feet really smelled' and blames me entirely for his hatred of women’s feet. If he finds a dead animal, he saves it until he sees me and then chases me with it. He’s an utter moron, and for the avoidance of doubt is in his mid-forties.

So let’s say we fall out over a legal issue. The boundaries are different, if existent at all.

And, of course, whilst your sibling might tell you your toilet is dirty, if you were born before about the year 2000, he or she is probably unable to say 'it really hurt my feelings when [insert childhood memory which your parents are probably to blame for]'. If my younger colleagues are anything to go by, in the future we will all be told precisely how we have hurt each others’ feelings, and (I think) I’m all for it. Imagine- saying what we mean straight away and getting it off your chest. Articulately. Without punching someone. And that person having the chance to say 'I’m sorry it made you feel that way, I didn’t realise'.

So, as I regularly say to my clients, all we can do is try (and we can only try) to be more enlightened and not give our children anything much to put in those square brackets. Maybe it is as simple as there being nothing more visceral than needing your parents’ love and therefore there being nothing more challenging than perceiving that love to be shared unequally. I don’t know; it must be part of it at least. As parents we can try to avoid that being the perception. I desperately want the DALCs to be close when they are older, and there are so many good things about having siblings. I just can’t think of any right now.

Some facts and identities have been altered in the above article