First in Line
September 30, 2024
Writer: Sydney Holzman
Editor: HY Editors
My earliest memories are a collection of attempts to reclaim my status as the only, and by default, favorite child. Inspired by the Flat Stanley books my mom would read to me, I devised a plan to flatten my infant sister and ship her to a far-off destination, convinced this would reestablish my status as the center of attention. When this scheme failed, I resorted to more direct methods of reclaiming my spotlight. Whenever my mom turned her back, I would give my sister a little push down the slide, a playful yank on her hair, or a not-so-gentle shove off the swing. But her inevitable crying only earned me time-outs. My quest to be the majority shareholder of parental attention was doomed.
A few years later, I experienced an ultimate betrayal. The best birthday party I had ever attended, a Hannah Montana-themed cooking party, was abruptly cut short when my brother made his premature debut home from the hospital. As I walked into the house, I felt like a ghost, my new blonde wig and purple apron unnoticed. All eyes were on the new baby. He’s not even that cute, I thought bitterly.
These early frustrations became a defining part of my identity. As new parents, mine enforced strict rules and high expectations with a cautiousness only first-timers could understand. I learned to follow the rules and ensured my siblings did, too. If I had to follow them, so did they
One such rule was the ban on gum before the age of four. For years, I eagerly counted down the days until my fourth birthday, imagining the bliss of inserting a quarter into the machine, turning the knob, and watching a neon purple gumball spiral around the center pole, ricocheting off plastic walls before dropping into the dispenser and landing in my mouth. Alas, the day arrived, and with it, a gumball machine in my room. I watched wide-eyed as my piece circled down the machine and into my hand. Its sugary surface’s burst was everything I had hoped for– until my two-and-a-half-year-old sister followed my lead. My excitement instantly soured into irritation and envy, marking the beginning of my understanding that life as the eldest came with rules, rules I had to accept whether I liked them or not.
But being the oldest hasn’t just meant navigating unfair restrictions; more meaningfully, it has instilled in me a deep sense of responsibility. I naturally became the unappointed leader, guiding my siblings through each stage of life. I was always the first to venture into unfamiliar terrain– starting a new elementary school, navigating middle school, and tackling the challenges of high school– and I took pride in my role. My leadership wasn’t driven by control but rooted in care. I wasn’t just a sibling; I was a protector. This nurtured my type-A tendencies and gave me purpose, anchoring my identity in protection.
In conjunction, having the unique privilege of growing up alongside my parents as they navigated parenthood for the first time taught me the value of perseverance. With three kids, all born within three and a half years, my parents learned on the fly, often using me as their test subject. Every challenge they faced with me was uncharted territory. Whenever I encountered a problem for the first time, it was also their first time dealing with it, and they improvised their way through each situation (quite impressively). Their trial-and-error approach didn’t just shape them; it shaped me, enhancing my resilience and patience, qualities that are now cornerstones of who I am. While the expectations placed upon me were high, they fueled my ambition and drive. They taught me to take pride in setting high standards, not out of obligation but as a testament to my internalized values.
The lessons I’ve absorbed as the eldest sibling are woven into my character, goals, and way of engaging with the world. What began as (and continues to be occasionally) a rivalry for attention has become the foundation of my character.
My rehearsed response often feels incomplete whenever I am asked about my most meaningful experiences. In truth, beyond any accolade or achievement, the experience that has most profoundly shaped me is being the oldest child in my family.