It’s been less than ten minutes since my kids returned home from school, and I can already feel my throat sore from yelling. I know that resorting to shouting isn’t the best way to handle things, and it leaves me feeling awful—but their incessant squabbling drives me to it.
It feels like a never-ending marathon, exhausting for everyone involved. You might think they’d tire of it, but they seem determined to break some kind of record for sibling rivalry. It’s like they’ve entered the World Championship of Not Letting Each Other Be.
They’ll actively seek each other out just to stir up trouble. You’d expect that anyone with a modicum of sense would steer clear of conflict, but no, they intentionally instigate it. One will grab a toy or gadget that they know the other is eager to use—not because they want it, but simply to annoy. This is the same child who opens doors for strangers and leaves extra coins on gumball machines for the next kid. I just don’t get it.
It’s always the same. A staggering 95% of their arguments revolve around the most trivial matters—like who can burp the loudest or who can sprint up the stairs faster. Or they’ll hurl seemingly harmless nicknames at each other that somehow spiral into all-out wars, like when my oldest calls his brother “Silly Goose” (seriously??), and suddenly it’s World War III. Naturally, the more frustrated it makes his brother, the more often he uses that name instead of his real one. Because, of course.
They make annoying noises, throw around insults like “You’re such a dork!”, and jab each other unprovoked as they stroll past in the hallway. It’s just part of the daily chaos around here. My frantic suggestions of, “Just go to separate rooms!” seem to fall on deaf ears. Even if one manages to escape to another room, the other will follow closely behind, poking at whatever issue sparked the fight in the first place. Doors slam. Voices rise. Tempers flare. I’ll admit, I’m not the best at keeping the peace, but staying calm amidst their emotional tornado is easier said than done.
One of the reasons I wanted multiple children was so they could grow up together as siblings. I envisioned them laughing, learning from one another, standing up for each other against bullies. I didn’t foresee the constant competition, the petty squabbles that make me want to hurl a pork chop into the living room and scream, “Fight over this!” before I hop in my car and drive away.
Scrolling through social media, I often see pictures of other kids getting along, and it makes me question whether I’m doing something wrong. Logically, I understand that most posts reflect the highlight reel of parenting—the brief moments when their kids aren’t fighting. Yet, the nagging voice in my head insists that there must be a reason mine don’t get along as well, and I find myself wondering if it’s my fault.
I worry about the future, when they’re adults living separate lives. Will they still reach out to each other? Will they make time to see one another? That’s what I hope for—the strong sibling bond that endures into adulthood, with the knowledge that there’s always someone in their corner. Will their families know each other? Will their kids grow up together, or will they just be distant acquaintances?
But then, reality hits again, and I notice the calm that has settled over the house. There they are, snuggled together on the couch under one blanket, engrossed in a game on a tablet, just moments after their previous chaos. My oldest cheers on his younger brother as he scores high points, and I can’t help but marvel at how quickly their anger dissipates. My heart swells knowing this is their dynamic, despite the bickering.
And just like that, I snap a photo because this moment is definitely Instagram-worthy.
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In summary, sibling rivalry can be exhausting, but amidst the chaos, there are moments of connection that give us hope for the future.
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