Happy Birthday, Sister #3
Today is my sister’s birthday. I have four of them, so I call her #3 in my blog. That’s to protect the innocent and her (hee hee hee). Since there are five of us, that makes her the middle child. When she was little, she was obsessively attached to a stuffed lion named Leo. She also suffered from an obsessive love of chocolate, even at a very young age. We used to hide our holiday candy from her. I’ve never met anyone who loves chocolate like Sister #3. Seriously. One year for my birthday, Mom made me a cake smothered in chocolate frosting. After dinner, we pulled the cake out of the fridge to light the candles and sing “Happy Birthday.” When we got it all the way out of the fridge, we discovered the entire back of the cake was naked. She even carved the frosting out from between the layers with her little fingers. She may not strip other people’s birthday cakes anymore (at least not that I’ve heard), but she still does love chocolate more than anyone else I know. Here’s something else you may not know about her – she bakes a seriously wicked cheesecake. Any flavor. Any time. It’s sinful and world-class. Sister #3 is also the mother of two unique and wonderful kids. Chris (her son and firstborn) is a tatoo artist by trade and a trained artist and musician. He played the cello growing up. How many people do you know who play the cello? He has long hair and lots of tattoos, and is the best example I know of not judging a book by its cover. He is a sweet, funny, gentle, thoughtful guy. Amanda, her baby, is a senior in college and a writer. Like me (her favorite aunt), she grew up playing the french horn. All the greatest people played the french horn.
It's your birthday...have some fun!
She is a literature major and hopes to go into the book business (publishing and editing) when she graduates. She is a bright, sarcastic (a family trait), outgoing kid who loves books. I think that will serve her well in the publishing world. So today I say “Happy Birthday, Number 3.” You have always marched to your own drummer and done things your own way. Keep on keepin’ on. I wish you joy and happiness and everything good in the world on this, your special day. Love ya’, Sis.
Sister #4 - Cute kid, huh?
Happy birthday, Sister #4! You’re another year older, but you’re still younger than me. That takes all the fun out of mocking you for getting older. Thanks for sucking the jelly out of my donut. That’s the curse of being #2 in our family. I’ll always be older than three of them. Sister #4 was such a cute kid – friendly and outgoing. She used to like to tag along on my dates from time to time. She was the gymnast and cheerleader of the family. She could walk across the top of any swing set and could put both feet behind her head when she was little. We used to drag that trick out during family gatherings and make her show off. She was also great at hide & seek because she could climb all the tall trees or dangle from the eaves of the roof with ease. She was fun to play with.
That's some awesome 80's hair, Sis
She’s a registered nurse, the mother of one grown son, and wife to Captain Fireman. She’s also a grandma like me. I became a grandmother at 43, which sort of traumatized me, but I quickly got over it. Sister #4 has me beat. She became a grandma at 40, but she’s a spry vegetarian yoga-posing grandma and proud of it! Her little Zoey is a cutie patootie. So happy birthday, Gigi! You’re like fine wine and French cheese…you just get better and better as you age.
The Birthday Girl
Big Sis is turning ## today. Ha! Bet I made her heart race a little. I would never divulge that she’s pushing hard against a big number and that next year’s party should be a big blow-out with lots of champagne. Besides…age is just a number, even if it starts with a 5 and ends with a 0. Sorry, #1. I couldn’t stop myself. Besides, you’ve got a year to get used to the idea that 50 is the new 20, or purple is the new black, or two wrongs don’t make a right. I’m not sure. Now I’m just confusing myself. Back to my point – happy birthday to my big sister. The one who ate dog food as a toddler. The one who convinced me to eat a mud pie when I was a toddler to make up for it. The one who was forced to share her stuff with me. The one who was my partner in matching outfits for most of our childhood.
Big Sis and Her Posse
The one who let me tag along when she cruised Fort Smith, Arkansas listening to Foghat in high school. The one who’s married to Saint David (love you, dude) with two teenagers at home and a freshman at West Point. The one who inspired our annual girls only Hoegarden weekends and hosts them every spring. Three cheers and a hip-hip hurray on your big day! I hope all your wishes come true. Now try not to burn down the house when you light all those candles.