Middle Child

I was reading in some magazine or e-news item about birth order and how it affects who you are.

They said first born children become CEO's and are conservative but good at excelling. And the youngest children take more risks. Even if they become CEO's they manage differently and they are more likely to try new ideas and they're more likely to crash and burn but are really good at get up afterwards because they're used to it.

Middle children. Middle children...are a conundrum. They can go either way and nobody can predict middle children like they can the first child and the last child. They're a mystery. The nut scientists and sociologists would like to crack.

Nice to know...since I'm surrounded by 'em. Both siblings and both parents are or were scientists/engineers. **hee hee** But also very odd since there are probably more middle children out there than first and last children. What are we? Invisible? [inside middle child joke ;)] Yes, yes, invisible.

And what of only children? Or children who are of a different generation than their siblings? (My friend Will is the fourth [I think] child of his mother but the first for his father.) Curiouser & Curiouser.

I'm especially curious to see my new upcoming nephew grow up and adjust to the world. How he interacts with his older brother. How he behaves being the youngest. And possibly, how he behaves as an older sibling if another little one comes along. And then, if he does have a younger sibling--how he develops into the mystery of the middle child.

Letting Go

"When do you know that you're in a healthy place?" I ask a friend. "When you don't care if you're in a healthy place any more and you're just living your life."


Have you noticed that it's true for so many things in life? With parents and children; with relationships; with health...


It's Fall and I'm climbing in Red Rock National Park. The next hold is just out of my reach. I reach for it...slip, and miss and scramble to keep hold of the rock with the tips of my toes and my other hand. It's hot, I'm sweating, and all my muscles are tight and straining to finish this climb.


"Buck up, Alice, Buck up," I mumble to myself. (Okay, so maybe I don't mumble it so much as yell it at myself to keep myself for turning hysterical and bumbling mass of fear.)


Look up and not down. And a fellow climber tells me to relax and hang from my bones instead of my muscles, turn my hip in and reach again. I do...and miraculously the hold is within reach--with a few centimeters to spare. I'm amazed.

It reminds me that sometimes struggling to get what you want is more work and less effective than relaxing and relying on the core of who you are or what you've built. Relying on your skeleton and just choosing to change direction--and leaning in sometimes brings a goal within reach with an ease that is surprising.


"It's actually a skill," my friend says, "learning to let go."

Practice makes perfect right? But practicing isn't very fun. As a child my mother had to chase me around the house to get me to go practice. I'm known as the "I don't want to practice!" child.

Ironically, I'm coming to realize that someOne out there has me practicing a lot because this letting go thing is becoming a re-occurring theme.

I just have to remember there's a point to practice, right? A little improvement every time until you have what it is you're practicing down and you can move on to something new.



It's funny isn't it? That sometimes we clutch so strongly at something it slips through our fingers. Only to find that those points where we keep our hands open allow the thing we're clutching for to come for and stay awhile, even if it's not forever--but long enough to enjoy the stay.


With the sun on my back I climb on and tap the top hold.
"Okay! Ready to Lower! Sit back!"

I let go sit back and kick my legs out. "Lower me!" and the wall flies past as I kick away from the wall. My hands free and clear. Letting go.