Day 11 - Your siblings
Oh, hello diary. I didn't forget about you. What I did was, I started a new quarter in the big kid school and promptly shit my pants over it.
I'm still having a little bit of a freak out, but for now, right this second, I feel OK. OK enough to tell you about my sister.
My mother says that when we were little, we were very close. I don't remember that, and that's a painful truth. I remember that she and I were often at odds. "Often" is putting it kindly because my memory makes it seem more like "always" but that can't really be true, can it? The memory, as I've been learning in college, is a malleable thing. What we think we remember isn't necessarily the accurate truth. In fact it probably isn't.
Wait, hold that thought, it's time to put my duck to bed.
Ok, I'm back.
As a little girl, my sister loved pigs and the color pink. She has always had this long flowing red hair. Not the brassy kind of red hair but almost auburn-red. It's hard to describe. She has apricot colored skin and brown eyes, like me, like my mom, like my Grandpa Harold had. My mother would always do her hair pretty before school, and pick a flower from the yard to arrange in it.
My sister also had problems with her tendon development. They didn't grow as fast as the rest of her legs, and she spent her first three or four walking years on her tip toes. Lydell used to have a cute name for her, for this reason. Tippy toes? Twinkle toes? I can't rightly remember. She was always at the doctor having tests and x-rays for this condition and she endured a lot of stuff that a little girl really shouldn't. She spent a long time in double casts, too - in an attempt to stretch those tendons. I remember her lurching for the bus, crutches and two casts, trying not to miss it. Poor kid.
We played a lot of Barbies and we rode our bikes and we roller skated a lot. Dad built us a dollhouse which was pretty awesome really. It was divided in two and we each had a half, like a duplex, except we shared a front door, which was the source of many rows. My bike was red, and then later Dad painted it yellow, but I remember Joy's as being baby blue, with a plastic basket with colorful flowers on it. When I learned to ride, I had the benefit of a cul de sac but by the time my sister was old enough we had moved and she had to practice in the bumpy, mustard and rock ridden vacant lot next door. She was determined. She fell off the bike all the time but she always got back on. Once she fell off a neigbor's skateboard and broke her arm, and Mom forbade us from having or using a skateboard. I think I unfairly blamed her for that.
In high school we didn't get any closer. There were a lot of rivalries and subterfuge and secrets. I drove her to school and we had epic battles in the car. I drove her home and had more epic battles, generally because I was amped out about starting my job at 3:00 and she wanted to visit with friends after school. At least this is how I remember it. She can chime in and correct me anytime. We were both given old Camaros by our parents. I had to fix mine up, but hers was cherry when she got it. I was jealous, I admit. But you know what? She still has hers, but mine was totaled years ago (not by me).
After we both married, just before I had Tristan, we became housemates, us two couples. We shared the house we grew up in and split the rent. I think maybe it's a life lesson that siblings living together as adults just isn't such a good idea. We did have some good times, like the New Year's Eve we stayed up all night playing Bomberman on Nintendo and drinking "funky monkeys." "Funky monkeys" were a cocktail that her ex-husband had invented, Bananas 99 and chocolate liqueur and ice cream. Goddamn they were awesome. I could go for one right now. There were also good times especially after Tristan was born; it was nice to have her near. But also, there were less good times, toward the end, which I think is normal. I really do think that's normal, having witnessed many friends go though similar situations.
She also lost so much weight it staggers me and inspires me. A few years ago she lost something like 125 pounds. Even now every time I look at her, she looks like a new lady. I'm really proud of her for that.
As we've gotten older, we're still very different. Maybe even as different as two sisters can be. I'm liberal, she's conservative. I'm an introvert, she's an extrovert. I drive a 21 year old Volkswagen, she drives a kick-ass Dodge Magnum. She's not afraid, I'm always terrified. She's confident, I'm a self-doubting wreck. Her makeup is always perfect, I can't remember the last time I put some on. She's stylish, I'm a thrift store reject.
But also, we have some important things in common. For one thing, we share the same parents. If not for this fact I worry that we might never see each other. We both love to garden. She's more of a flower and herb gardener, and I'm all about the hippie-like food growing. We both love the booze. And we like bars, although she's a karaeoke bar person and I'm more of a townies-sitting-around-bar type of person. We both love candles. Last Christmas, we drew eachother's names in the gift exchange. And do you know what we did? I'll be damned if we didn't give each other the same damn thing: glass hurricane candle holders and tall pillar candles.
We are about to have something new in common, too.
She's pregnant.
This will be her first baby. She's had a lot of challenges in her adult life, and she didn't have the right guy, or the right home, or the right financial situation, or the right health, or whatever other right thing people wait for. I don't think it's possible for everything to be perfectly right but I do know this: she definitely has the right guy. I think her boyfriend is the perfect man for her and I can't think of a better compliment. He's just different from me as she is, but she's crazy about him and I'm kind of crazy about him too. He makes me laugh every time I see him. I'm really happy they are together. I was happy about that even before I knew she wanted a baby.
I'm very excited for her. It's hard to describe the change that happens in your life as you transition from having no children to becoming a mother. I'm sure it's different for everyone, anyway. I've never had a niece or nephew and I'm very stoked about that!
I'm really looking forward to watching my sister blossom in this new part of her life. I think the rest of her life is going to be wonderful.
I used to assoiciate a Monie Love song with my sister. Do you know the one?
My sister, my sister/Tell me what the trouble is/I'll try to listen good/And give the best advice that I can give
This isn't how I see my sister anymore. I got a new sister song for her now, Miss Celie's Blues:
Sister, you've been on my mind
Sister, we're two of a kind
So, sister, I'm keepin' my eye on you.
I betcha think I don't know nothin'
But singin' the blues, oh, sister,
Have I got news for you, I'm something,
I hope you think that you're something too
Scufflin', I been up that lonesome road
And I seen alot of suns going down
Oh, but trust me,
No-o low life's gonna run me around.
So let me tell you something Sister,
Remember your name, No twister
Gonna steal your stuff away, my sister,
We sho' ain't got a whole lot of time,
So-o-o shake your shimmy Sister,
'Cause honey the 'shug' is feelin' fine.
I'm still having a little bit of a freak out, but for now, right this second, I feel OK. OK enough to tell you about my sister.
My mother says that when we were little, we were very close. I don't remember that, and that's a painful truth. I remember that she and I were often at odds. "Often" is putting it kindly because my memory makes it seem more like "always" but that can't really be true, can it? The memory, as I've been learning in college, is a malleable thing. What we think we remember isn't necessarily the accurate truth. In fact it probably isn't.
Wait, hold that thought, it's time to put my duck to bed.
Ok, I'm back.
As a little girl, my sister loved pigs and the color pink. She has always had this long flowing red hair. Not the brassy kind of red hair but almost auburn-red. It's hard to describe. She has apricot colored skin and brown eyes, like me, like my mom, like my Grandpa Harold had. My mother would always do her hair pretty before school, and pick a flower from the yard to arrange in it.
My sister also had problems with her tendon development. They didn't grow as fast as the rest of her legs, and she spent her first three or four walking years on her tip toes. Lydell used to have a cute name for her, for this reason. Tippy toes? Twinkle toes? I can't rightly remember. She was always at the doctor having tests and x-rays for this condition and she endured a lot of stuff that a little girl really shouldn't. She spent a long time in double casts, too - in an attempt to stretch those tendons. I remember her lurching for the bus, crutches and two casts, trying not to miss it. Poor kid.
We played a lot of Barbies and we rode our bikes and we roller skated a lot. Dad built us a dollhouse which was pretty awesome really. It was divided in two and we each had a half, like a duplex, except we shared a front door, which was the source of many rows. My bike was red, and then later Dad painted it yellow, but I remember Joy's as being baby blue, with a plastic basket with colorful flowers on it. When I learned to ride, I had the benefit of a cul de sac but by the time my sister was old enough we had moved and she had to practice in the bumpy, mustard and rock ridden vacant lot next door. She was determined. She fell off the bike all the time but she always got back on. Once she fell off a neigbor's skateboard and broke her arm, and Mom forbade us from having or using a skateboard. I think I unfairly blamed her for that.
In high school we didn't get any closer. There were a lot of rivalries and subterfuge and secrets. I drove her to school and we had epic battles in the car. I drove her home and had more epic battles, generally because I was amped out about starting my job at 3:00 and she wanted to visit with friends after school. At least this is how I remember it. She can chime in and correct me anytime. We were both given old Camaros by our parents. I had to fix mine up, but hers was cherry when she got it. I was jealous, I admit. But you know what? She still has hers, but mine was totaled years ago (not by me).
After we both married, just before I had Tristan, we became housemates, us two couples. We shared the house we grew up in and split the rent. I think maybe it's a life lesson that siblings living together as adults just isn't such a good idea. We did have some good times, like the New Year's Eve we stayed up all night playing Bomberman on Nintendo and drinking "funky monkeys." "Funky monkeys" were a cocktail that her ex-husband had invented, Bananas 99 and chocolate liqueur and ice cream. Goddamn they were awesome. I could go for one right now. There were also good times especially after Tristan was born; it was nice to have her near. But also, there were less good times, toward the end, which I think is normal. I really do think that's normal, having witnessed many friends go though similar situations.
She also lost so much weight it staggers me and inspires me. A few years ago she lost something like 125 pounds. Even now every time I look at her, she looks like a new lady. I'm really proud of her for that.
As we've gotten older, we're still very different. Maybe even as different as two sisters can be. I'm liberal, she's conservative. I'm an introvert, she's an extrovert. I drive a 21 year old Volkswagen, she drives a kick-ass Dodge Magnum. She's not afraid, I'm always terrified. She's confident, I'm a self-doubting wreck. Her makeup is always perfect, I can't remember the last time I put some on. She's stylish, I'm a thrift store reject.
But also, we have some important things in common. For one thing, we share the same parents. If not for this fact I worry that we might never see each other. We both love to garden. She's more of a flower and herb gardener, and I'm all about the hippie-like food growing. We both love the booze. And we like bars, although she's a karaeoke bar person and I'm more of a townies-sitting-around-bar type of person. We both love candles. Last Christmas, we drew eachother's names in the gift exchange. And do you know what we did? I'll be damned if we didn't give each other the same damn thing: glass hurricane candle holders and tall pillar candles.
We are about to have something new in common, too.
She's pregnant.
This will be her first baby. She's had a lot of challenges in her adult life, and she didn't have the right guy, or the right home, or the right financial situation, or the right health, or whatever other right thing people wait for. I don't think it's possible for everything to be perfectly right but I do know this: she definitely has the right guy. I think her boyfriend is the perfect man for her and I can't think of a better compliment. He's just different from me as she is, but she's crazy about him and I'm kind of crazy about him too. He makes me laugh every time I see him. I'm really happy they are together. I was happy about that even before I knew she wanted a baby.
I'm very excited for her. It's hard to describe the change that happens in your life as you transition from having no children to becoming a mother. I'm sure it's different for everyone, anyway. I've never had a niece or nephew and I'm very stoked about that!
I'm really looking forward to watching my sister blossom in this new part of her life. I think the rest of her life is going to be wonderful.
I used to assoiciate a Monie Love song with my sister. Do you know the one?
My sister, my sister/Tell me what the trouble is/I'll try to listen good/And give the best advice that I can give
This isn't how I see my sister anymore. I got a new sister song for her now, Miss Celie's Blues:
Sister, you've been on my mind
Sister, we're two of a kind
So, sister, I'm keepin' my eye on you.
I betcha think I don't know nothin'
But singin' the blues, oh, sister,
Have I got news for you, I'm something,
I hope you think that you're something too
Scufflin', I been up that lonesome road
And I seen alot of suns going down
Oh, but trust me,
No-o low life's gonna run me around.
So let me tell you something Sister,
Remember your name, No twister
Gonna steal your stuff away, my sister,
We sho' ain't got a whole lot of time,
So-o-o shake your shimmy Sister,
'Cause honey the 'shug' is feelin' fine.