Sisterly Love. From 11/13/06.
Ok.... so... We've all heard of brotherly love. It’s a strong thing.
But I'm here to tell you about a little thing called Sisterly Love.
It's a completely different animal folks.
It all started out in... 1985. My sister found out she would be having a little person to play with, and this made her happy.
The "thing", which is me, was born in 1986... and it all went down hill...
She stopped liking me when she found out that they weren't just gonna leave me sitting in a corner somewhere, and that I had to have attention too. Not cool to her.
So what does she do? She tries to throw me away. Uh huh... that’s right... tries to throw little infant me away while no one's looking. But I guess she felt bad, and I was saved from the trash can. And then the unthinkable happened...
She tried to hold me one day, without permission or supervision and got busted... They took her Punky Brewster away. That did it. We were enemies from then on.
As I grew up, I guess the instinct for survival kicked in, and I became a very devious toddler. Seemingly innocent and cute things were actually just meanness...
Long car rides back from Baltimore... "Oh look... Heather figured out how to get out of her car seat..." Poor Celia's in the back of the station wagon lying down, her stomach hurts her... so what do I do? I decide she looks like a great trampoline/treadmill. The fun begins. .
I hated Desitin in the diaper days, absolutely loathed it. I don't know why, but I did... so every time Mama *I know that's not the correct spelling, but hey... my blog... so yeah...* wasn't looking, I'd grab it and hide it. And Celia would watch. Waiting for her moment. There would be the need for a new diaper... Desitin is nowhere to be found.... until Celia walks in the room holding it. She did it just to torture me.
Payback was coming.
When I was around two, Celia got strep throat and was laid out sick on the couch one day, well... I wanted to play. She was being mean and not cooperating... I had to fix this problem. I went and hunted up one of the bottles of Desitin, and now remember... in the 80's that had that nice metal strip at the end of it, with the edges poking out. I walked up to her and smacked her across the face with it, right across the eye. Scratched her good I did. But apparently, Mom's don't like you doing that kind of thing, and I got yelled at. Well, while she's over there soothing whiney butt, I go to the stove and get my favoritist thing in the whole wide world, except for my Care Bear pillow... this is my drum, my hat, my buddy, the best toy ever... the big heavy metal sauce pan... I sit on the floor and play with it for a little while, annoying Celia but otherwise escaping my mother's attention... I wait for my moment... and when it comes... I run across to the couch and *BAM* right on the back of the head. I would say that was one of my better moments.
Celia's 6.5 years older than me. She had the size thing going for her, and I had the devious mind. So when she couldn't trick me... what did she do? Threw me down, stuck my chest cavity between her legs and squeezed as hard as she could until I couldn't even scream for help anymore, let alone breathe. She found this funny. I had to share a bed with her when I visited... so what did she do? Pinched me with her toes! I can't do that... so I don't think it's a fair weapon. It's some genetic abnormality in her and my mom, I'm normal so I can't do it. It’s ok... I would usually hold my own in the fist fights though... I don't hold my punches, and to be the whole 3 feet I was until I graduated high school, I was strong.
So now that you have a glimpse into my traumatic childhood growing up with Sissy Dearest, I'll bring you into the present.
It is a family trait to laugh at people when they get hurt, I can't help it. You fall down the stairs, and nothing is broken... I will laugh for ten minutes, right in your face. I think it is the funniest thing in the world when people get hurt. I'm sick, can't help it.
My sister has my nephew, or as our Dad calls him, "The Boy Child". Well Dad had TBC for the weekend, and I had to head down that way to pick up something anyways, so Celia says "Why don't you just pick up TBC for me, so I don't have to waste the gas to drive down the mountain?" Ok... get there, eat dinner, pick up TBC, we are on our way, he passes out after maybe half a mile of driving, which is good for me. I call my sister to say I'm on my way... but she doesn't answer the phone... I call when I get to Black Mt. Left a message, left three messages on three different phones... I'll be there in 15 minutes, if you don't call me, I'm going home. No call. No one's home! This was about 6:30... my bed time these days, so I take the sleeping TBC to my apartment, which is currently roommate-less, thank God for her, Its been pouring down rain, I hydroplaned all the way up the mountain, I can't relax my fingers off the wheel, because I'm terrified of driving in that weather with TBC in the car. I have to carry this 40lb child up three flights of stairs in the pouring rain! He wakes up, he's cranky, he's yelling, my sister still hasn't shown up. When she finally does, I go out to the car to get his stuff; we load him and everything up.... I lean through the open window to kiss TBC goodbye.... and...
The next thing I know... I can't breathe, my neck hurts incredibly bad, and my trachea is, I'm sure at the moment, crushed.
My sister ROLLED MY HEAD UP IN THE WINDOW!!!!!!!
I'm sure you find this funny... but I however did not. Here I am with my throat being squeezed shut by the window, my arms are hanging through it, flailing about wildly trying to free my head, and all I can think is... I'm going to die... I'm going to die.... and then I'm free. I have to turn around and gasp for breath and lean against my car, facing away from my would be executor, because if I look at her, I'll kill her. And what is she doing? Standing in the middle of the parking lot, screaming with laughter. Jumping up and down, gasping, snorting, SCREAMING and in between peals asking "are you ok? Are you ok? I didn't mean to *insert laughter* I didn't mean… I didn't mean... HAHAHAH... to do that"
So, this is what sisterly love is, when there's an age gap, and sometimes I'm thankful for it, because we don't fight over clothes or men folk or makeup or anything. I couldn't take much else. I mean jeeze... I do this huge favor for her and what does she do?
She tries to decapitate me.... Well that’s fine... let them have cake.