Within less than four years, my mom found herself the overly sleep-deprived parent of three children. I was the oldest at three and a half. My sister was two years of age and my brother was a newborn.

(Yes, I don’t know what she was thinking either. But she’s a pretty brave woman, wouldn’t you say?)

She managed to get through those crazy years but it didn’t seem to get easier for her. My poor mother must have felt a bit ripped off when my little brother transitioned out of diapers. Little did she know she was trading a diaper-free existence for at least 10 long years of refereeing her children’s arguments. Oy!

In fact, sometimes I think the biggest reason she went back to work wasn’t so much for the paycheck as it was to interact with other adults, enjoy a quiet 30-minute lunch break, and give her voice a rest. She knew that as soon as she got home, endless screaming matches would quickly ensue if, God forbid, two children happened to be in a particular room at one time.

Looking back on all of those years, I realize our behavior was a result of a vicious circle. All three of us were instigators. We loved to aggravate each other. And we were always vying to be “the golden child.” If one child perceived another to get extra attention or love? Resentment would build. There was always some sort of retaliation and well, the cycle would start all over.

By the time I was half way through high school, my siblings and I had figured out how to fight sneaky – and away from the gaze of mom and dad. By the time I was in college (I lived at home through those four years) an unspoken truce of sorts had developed. We all just stayed out of each other’s way for the most part. This worked, inciting only the occasional kerfluffle.

Little did my mom know, that when my sister and I left the nest, she’d finally get a chance to regain her sanity. With the two of us gone, she had only my much neater and good-natured brother to deal with. For the first time in her life as a mother, she finally took up a hobby.

I “flew the coop” back in 1995. And over the years, I rediscovered my siblings. At first we bonded by laughing about our parents’ oddities, sayings and reactions. Now, as adults, I’m very close to my siblings. We have become close friends and confidants. I don’t just love them, I LIKE who they are. I enjoy spending time with them. They are a blast to hang out with. (And lucky for us, they chose wonderful spouses too!) I know they’ve always got my back. And I’d like to think they feel the same way about me.

My parents see this closeness and are thrilled and thankful. I’m pretty sure that they worried we’d never be close. (Especially that time I kicked my little really hard brother in the nuts when he said something that angered me. Sorry Matt! I’m sure that hurt.)

Years ago, I told my brother, “You know? I like you so much better now that I don’t have to live with you.” He laughed and said, “Yup. I know what you mean, Lisa. I feel the same way.”