Water cooler talk at work this week turned toward birth order. A bunch of software developers and data analysts gave free rein to their childhood baggage. Most topics with any potential for discord are off limits at work, but somehow “who has it better - oldest sibling or youngest sibling?” slipped past HR. It’s a spicy question!
“The youngest child gets to do whatever they want! Parents just give up on enforcing rules.”
“The oldest gets a big deal for all of their birthdays & milestones! The youngest gets an ice cream cone.”
“The baby of the family never really grows up! They forever wait to be taken care of.”
“The firstborn tries to be the parent! They always think they know what’s best for everyone.”
“Helloooo? Does anyone even care that some of us are middle children?? Of course not.”
It got heated. The other firstborn and myself fanned the flames because we were up against five baby-of-the-family nemeses, and the temptation was irresistible.
“Just look around. The oldest children are the team leads around here. What does that tell you?”
Fourth of July fireworks got nothing on the nerd explosion that followed. Lights and colors rained down in smoking arcs from lofted bombs of engineer outrage. It was beautiful.
To be honest, no one actually got offended. All the teasing fell just shy of real insult. I was surprised by the passion, though. The emotional response of boring engineers at 6am on a Tuesday was telling. People feel strongly about the claim they had it easy. I kept one tiny detail to myself throughout the melee - something I didn’t want the other camp to know and I hesitate even now to admit. The hoard of babies made great points.
My kids have had more time with their grandparents than my younger brother’s child has. That’s just a fact. I threw our daughter a private concert for her high school graduation, and for our son’s I got yard decorations. To be fair, she was (and is) a musician so renting an event hall and hiring a back-up guitarist wasn’t that extreme. And he graduated in 2020 at a time when we thought someone arriving in the night to stand up plywood letters in our lawn might actually kill us. So it’s not exactly apples to apples. I carry serious mom-guilt over that one though.
I do tend to think I know what’s best for everyone. Frankly, you could strike through “I do tend to think” in that sentence and it would still hold. I do push for my ideal state to become reality. I do get frustrated when my altruistic plans meet obstacles, especially in the form of dissenting opinion from less aware or less invested parties. That means I spend most of my life frustrated.
But I’m not a control freak, dammit. I’m not! I only drive toward what I think is best because I want to protect the people around me. It hurts me when they get hurt. I feel their anger, their fear, their sadness, and I can’t shield myself from it because I’m a big sloppy empath. People share their problems with me. I feel their pain, and I try to prevent any more. That’s the pattern of an advocate not a control freak! Right? Right??
If you’re not convinced, don’t worry. I’m not either. You also need not worry I’ll unpack four decades of family dynamics in this 5-minute read. Well-meaning micro-management is nothing new, and there are countless verses & adages that speak to it.
What’s new(ish) to me is that the ones I’m “protecting” may not want my help. My coworkers made it abundantly clear that oldest-child-junior-parenting is annoying at best and destructive at worst. So if God doesn’t need my helpful assistance and its presumed beneficiaries would rather protect themselves, then the only person I’m really looking out for is myself. Hmm. Sounds like a control freak.
Proverbs 3:5-6 must be popular for a reason.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
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