DISGUST

The boy is teething and his sharp screams of pain are the epitome of frustration.

There’s so much he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why his mouth hurts. He doesn’t understand why I’m not fixing it. He doesn’t understand why his mother slapped his legs for just playing.

Neither does his mother.

He was pinching and pulling at the light tuffs of hair around my neck. The pain was excruciating but he didn’t understand. Still, I snapped. I always swore I wouldn’t be this kind of parent and now I’m disgusted with myself. It was just one short, sharp slap but he went from laughing joyously at my repetition of “no” to the most horrified face I’ve ever seen.

That’s a look I don’t ever want to forget.

Perhaps it will remind my why I was so against hitting as a form of punishment. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be the kind of adult that lashes out at a child because they’re frustrated.

I always saw hitting as a sign of incompetence.

Parent’s are only human, I accept that. But we are supposed to be adults. We are supposed to be restrained and controlled. I can’t say I won’t do it again – be it from exhaustion, frustration, fear or plain and simple anger. I am, after all, only human. Like any animal I am prone to momentary lapses in control.

But the self-loathing and disgust I feel will well up each and every time.

ABSORBED

Each day with little boy just gets better.

No longer is he a tiny lump of babiness but he's turned into his own little character and I am totally wrapped in him.

For he past 12 months that's where my dedication has been. I have done nothing but watch him change. At times I've been upset and angry at all I had lost - my creativity sapped, my Independence obliterated, my privacy non-existent, my strength tested.

But be damned if it doesn't take just one belly-laugh from the boy and it's all forgotten. One hug and I'm completely his.

Today his chubbiness played in an empty wading pool with a 4-litre ice-cream container of water and some little plastic animals. We'd set the mini-water world up in the loungeroom because it was too hot to go outside.

He splashed, the water spraying finely across my face each time and I didn't wipe it away. I didn't want to move but instead just laid there watching him.

He was so amazed and fascinated by the way the water felt and how it flowed across the crumpled plastic pool's floor. His eyes lit up with surprise each time the water splashed into his face and then he would laugh joyously as if it were the greatest experience of his life.

Laying on the carpet I was wrapped into his little world. Each splash a discovery of something I'd long forgotten. And I couldn't have had a happier moment then to be there with him while he discovered this.

The funny thing is, all of my life I've been so afraid of losing myself to someone else. Why? What's so frightening about giving yourself over to the people you love?

In many respects, nothing has changed. I am still who I am. But for right now the lives of those around me have me hypnotized; absorbed.

And it's not frightening at all. In fact, it's exhilarating.

Well, except for the eye-watering nappies.

OH BROTHER

Even since I was little, I have imitated my big brother.

I wanted to play the sports he had outstanding skills at - soccer; martial arts; archery. I listened to the music he listened to and we fought over who liked them first. I wanted to go where he went. I wanted to do what he did. I wanted the friend he had.

He was my idol.

He still is.

No doubt he saw me as nothing more than a pesky little sister who got on his nerves but the truth was I would intentionally goad him just for a little attention. I used to untune his guitars just so he'd spend and extra 30-minutes in the loungeroom tuning them. I would "borrow" his music just so he would have to come looking for it.

Little changed when we go older. Only the methods of trying to get his attention became more sophisticated (at least I thought so).

I worked hard in a job I loathed, bought a unit I didn't need, travelled the world to extricate myself from a family dispute and . In doing all of this all I've ever wanted was for him to see that I was a success just like him.

Over the years I've speculated as to why he wants little to nothing to do with me. I've told myself lies that I know aren't true. I've fomulated theories about his situation. But I can't hold onto them anymore.

I'm a dissapointment to him.

And it doesn't matter how old you are. It doesn't matter who you are. There will always be a link between siblings that goes unsaid.

Little sisters will always look up to older brothers, in the hope one day they'll look down and see them.