Who are you and what did you do with my baby sister?

As I’ve mentioned before, I have a thirteen year old sister, whom I refer to as Auntie here on the blog. I was 14 when she was born, have often been mistaken for her mother, and yes, we have the same parents. She is one of the Munchkin’s absolute favorite people in the world.

This last year has been one of change for her – and I’ve been forced to change my perception of her. She has gone from being a tomboy of a girl to being, well, a teenager. And a pretty darn good-looking one at that! Who told her that she could get a figure and start wearing makeup?

Actually, my sisters and I were allowed to start wearing makeup at twelve, with parental approval on what we had (and none of us ever went for the “goth” look or shocking blue eyeshadow or anything like that). For her twelfth birthday, I actually gave my middle sister her first “set” of makeup. It was simple stuff, like clear mascara, light pink blush, light pink eyeshadow, and an eyelash curler. Still, I remember how thrilled she was. “Did you get Mom and Dad’s permission?” she asked me at the time, to which I reassured her that I had. She now is more choosy about her makeup than the simple compacts that I gave her years ago, but it was fun to give that to her.

She and I did the same thing for Auntie when she turned twelve. She was, well, kind of nonchalant about the whole thing. My sister and I were thinking of it as a “rite of passage” – she saw it as stuff that she had no interest in.

In the last year, that has really changed. I don’t know why it struck me last night so strongly. Maybe it was the new shirt and camisole that she’d bought at Old Navy when we went shopping together there. Maybe it was her sparkly, plum-colored eyeshadow that just accented her eyes without looking overdone. Maybe it was her purse hanging off her shoulder.

But there she was, with her friends, looking strangely grown-up. And I felt sad. This was not the little baby who I’d seen my mother give birth to. This wasn’t the little toddler who used to play tea party with me. This wasn’t the four year old who cried with happiness when I came back from Japan. This wasn’t the seven year old who had been my flower girl. This wasn’t even the same kid who cried with joy when I told her that I was going to have a baby nearly three years ago.

This girl has been growing up before my eyes, and I feel old.

Of course, then she made a smartmouth comment and I was compelled to swat her and remind her that I drive her to the mall. So, despite the makeup and the figure, she’s still my little sister. And she owes me big-time. I can’t remember for what, but I’ll think of something. It ought to be worth a free baby-sitting job at the least.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 16th, 2006 at 12:46 am and is filed under Family.
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