My little bother….

16 Jul

That’s what Dally calls her little sister. And I tend to agree.

See, I had a little bother growing up….and she turned 29 today.

Not so little anymore, she’s a beautiful five-foot-eight with thick, dark hair and deep dimples. She looks just like my mom’s family. I am a blonde, light-skinned version of my dad’s family.

And she’s not so much a bother anymore. Well, sometimes she still is, but don’t tell her I said that.

There couldn’t be two more different sisters. Unless you count my kiddos. They spent all morning fighting over who owned the pet fly loose in the house. Until I found the fly swatter and we had a nice little fly funeral. Now they are arguing over whose fly it was…

Let’s just say, my sis and I have argued about that fly a time or two.

We are on the opposite side of most arguments, from politics to instant mashed potatoes. She hates that I feel the need to be a bit “Martha Stewartish” and I hate that she feels the need to check to make sure that the meat she eats at my house came from a grocery store (which requires me to go to the grocery store before she visits). There have been plenty of Thanksgivings that the Cowboy and her Rocker Hubby beg to run to town or fry a turkey outdoors just to avoid her being upset about my history of silverware lecture and my being upset over her suggestion of instant mashed potatoes. My poor mom. She’s learned to tune it out.

But as we’ve grown up, we’ve come to realize that there is only two of us that could ever understand growing up in our family. Which, was….a bit….unusual. To say the least.

Let’s just say that we’ve read every book ever written to fill the void of growing up with very limited television. We’ve also camped in every KOA between Mississippi and California. Dad got lost once and refused to turn around and retrace where he took the wrong turn until we realized we were in Kansas and forced him to stop and get a map. We were supposed to be in Louisiana. My dad growled at my boyfriends and frequently brought up the neutering of the dog when her boyfriend came over for dinner. Our neutered dog loved to violate the cat in the driveway so that when a boy brought you home, it was right in the headlights. Because our Mom still worries if we are out after dark. She considers anything after four o’clock in the afternoon to be after dark.

Because my parents thought it was hilarious to leave Christmas lights up all year long. If you were late getting home, they’d turn them on. Thirty minutes late, there would be white lights on the house. One hour late, there would be multicolored lights on the house. Ninety minutes late, those lights would flash. Two hours and the lights would chase each other around and around.

Yeah. I didn’t date much.

Sis and I share the need for weekly therapy session.

Happy birthday Sis. I would have sent you flowers today, but I forgot to order them yesterday. Then the kiddos hid the phone. I still haven’t found it yet. I thought about sending you a card, but they used all the stamps to send letters to the Toy Story characters. After going to wally world this morning to get you a nice card, the kiddos got into a fight over who you belong to as an aunt. I got frustrated, forgot to stop and buy new stamps and somehow found myself at Sonic drinking a Route 44 Dr. Pepper and wolfing down a foot-long chili cheese coney. I came home and felt guilty for eating that junk food. Sat down at the computer to write a funny and witty blog about you, but realized that you may not want the entire world to know about how you used to bite yourself and tell mom and dad it was me. Or about that time I forced you to skip school and you begged me to take you back so you wouldn’t get in trouble. Or about that time I ditched you in town and you had to find your own way home. Or how you told everyone after I went off to college that I’d moved to the big city to become a stripper. Which wasn’t helped when I came home from college with green hair. Or how you were once a small town Strawberry Queen and now you are a high-powered executive with your own assistant.

Enjoy this last year of your 20’s. Party all night. Stay in bed all day. Go buy another pair of red heels, just because you want to and because they aren’t on sale. Eat oreos out in the open without sharing them with anyone. Take a pole dancing class (hee hee). Come out to Oklahoma and spend some time on the ranch, where you can see the real stars in the sky. I promise you I won’t make you muck barns or watch the kiddos….more than once per day.

Happy Birthday. Next year you get to join the I’m 30, but pretending to be 23 as long as I can club. We’ve been saving a spot for you. If I don’t sleep through the night before then, I’ll be moving on to the I’m 30, but I look 45 because my kid’s won’t sleep club. I hear there is a waiting list for that one. It requires you wear makeup before you leave the house. For fear of scaring young children.

Thank you for listening to me ramble on and on. About things that don’t matter. Like the history of silverware…..Who would have guessed there is a bunch of people out there that actually read my ramblings? Maybe because I’ve not told them about the silverware yet…..

To visit my sis’s blog and find out what it is like to be a young newlywed in the city with no kiddos to wreck your house and keep you from creating amazing things….just click here.


2 Responses to “My little bother….”

  1. Sarae July 16, 2010 at 6:30 pm #

    Awww… I love you! I fully expect to see Christmas lights on your house as soon as Dally hits her teens. Maybe we can even kick it up a bit with one of those wacky-waiving-inflatable-arm-flailing-tube-Santas.

  2. Alanna July 22, 2010 at 3:04 pm #

    I love you guys! You make my life seem normal!

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