#181 He Loves My Brothers

It's National Siblings Day! 

We have Claudia Evart to thank for this fairly new special day. Evart lost both of her siblings to separate accidents early on in life. She recognized the eternal bond of siblings. Realizing that we have special days for mothers and fathers, she decided there should also be a day for siblings.

And I agree!

My siblings were my first friends ever. Even though now we are all grown, most with our own families and homes, there will always be an invisible line connecting us, drawing us together.

As the only girl, though I wasn't the oldest, I took the command of my siblings. As we got older, I found myself trying to impart in them the wealth of knowledge I had acquired. I wanted to save them from mistakes. I wanted to direct them towards the right path. In reality, I wanted them to be just like me.

It took me a while but the older I've grown, the wiser I've become. Thank God. Also, thank God I've learned quickly that the things that are different about us can either be used to distance us or to make us grow stronger together. There is no in between. We either accept that we are different and embrace it, or else we remain blind causing tension and strife amongst those we love.

Justin

Justin and I are the least alike. From day one we have had opposite viewpoints and emotions towards most aspects of life. Justin is laid back, docile, and forgiving. No one could dislike Justin. I am always raring to go, a little rough around the edges at times, and as bitter as Sicilians come. 

His mild mannered temperament used to drive me up a wall. I couldn't imagine how someone could sit back and not attack each moment of life with the aggressive force untamed within me. Then I realized how calming it was to be around Justin. He has a way of making everything seem right with the world, even though reality may say its not.

Joel

Joel and I are the most alike, but even so there are so many qualities Joel possesses that turn my head and get my brain going.

Joel envisions life in a very different way from me. He loves new experiences, and immerses himself into different situations and opportunities whenever he can. He is excited about living life to the fullest. Not to mention, he has enough personality for five people. He will make someone he just met feel like they have been friends forever, but most importantly, he makes those he chats with feel like they are valued.

Jonathan

I am who I am because of Jonathan.

Jonathan has a passion for people. While I would rather duck my head and avoid conversation, Jonathan craves it. He longs to be with people, to interact with people, to love on people. One of his common questions when we are together is, "Gaga, I help you?" He wants to be useful. He wants to contribute to things that are happening around him.

Jonathan is also a hugger. He will turn the least touchy feely person into someone who demands a hug from him. And his hugs are sincere. They are packed with emotion, love, and joy. The perfect anecdote to anything that has got you down.

If you have been so blessed to be born with siblings, don't allow your differences to separate you. Embrace what makes you different. Learn from what makes you different. Enjoy what makes you different. Don't take for granted what so many in this world wish they could have. Find your siblings, whether they be near or far, and love on them extra special today.

"Sibling relationships -- and 80 percent of Americans have at least one -- outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust." 

Erica E. Goode

#152 He Works Overtime

Weekend I’d Forget

I have had, yet again, another jam packed weekend.  I'm starting to think that ever since I began holding myself accountable for reporting one positive from my weekend, subconsciously, I've been making sure to pack my weekend with so much that I have to fight with myself over what to write about.*

*It's really been that good.**

**I dare you to take the challenge.  Find something good in your weekend and report back to me.

This past weekend my brother, Joel and his wife, Mallory, were back in town. You might remember my recent post about them and their new job.  We all have been so fortunate. They left in August expecting not to see family again until Christmas, maybe.  Their route has placed them in NJ for the past few weekends leaving them plenty of opportunity to visit immediate family.

Hubby worked a ridiculous amount the past two weeks, so the only negative of my weekend was that he was at work instead of with us.

After experiencing firsthand that no major city or state in their travels has pizza that compares to New Jersey, Joel and Mallory were craving the best pizza on earth.  Our original plan was to get some, then go apple picking.

If you were out and about on Saturday, you know that was a laughable option for the day.  It poured all night and into the morning, leaving us staring at the empty pizza boxes, bellies full, wondering what to do.

Mallory and I still had pie on our minds so to Johnson's Farm we went.*

Johnson's has recently opened a second location, and even though it is much closer to my house I couldn't risk that they would have the exact same experience I was looking for, in other words, the sweet potato pie I had been craving.

*Mallory had never been, and it was only when we arrived that Joel remembered having taken field trips there.  

No one can go to Johnson's Farm and simply go into the bakery.  It just feels so wrong.  They have their animal farm, Halloween shopping, a hayride, pumpkin picking and apple picking all going on at the same time.  Though stopping in the bakery had been our original intention, the hayride immediately took precedence.  The rain had stopped, but we still decided apple picking was a bad idea.  The ground was still wet and muddy.*  While most people get on and off of the hayride from the designated stops for pumpkin picking and apple picking, we stayed on and enjoyed the ride, taking in the corn fields, the pumpkin patch, and the rows and rows of apple trees.

*Naturally, Sunday was the perfect apple picking day and we had already made plans to do something else!

When we ended in their bakery, I had to look the other way from the apple cider donuts.  They were calling my name, but so was the sweet potato pie and I knew only one could* win.

*Not really could.  Both of them really could win.  Should is probably the right word.

I'd love to own a farm one day, but Hubby always tends to shoot this dream down.  Every time I talk about owning a farm he tells me that I only want to live on one, and have other people to do all the work.

I don't want to admit that he's right, but he has a pretty good track record of times he's been right vs times he's been wrong.  

#104 He is Older Than Me

For the first 27 years of his life, my brother, Justin, was always two years older than me.  A little under three years ago he became three years older than me.  Then four.  And as of this past Friday, five.  Five years older than me.

I feel so horribly sad for him.

Somehow I managed to stay 25 all that time.  And he...he has turned 30.

What a world.  What a horrible world it is where the number 30 can creep up upon someone unbeknownst.

He is tough though.  Tougher than me.  I think he'll survive it.

To celebrate this milestone, we threw him a surprise 30th.  I was a little worried that the shock of the party and the realization of his age might be detrimental to his health, but he carried through like a real trooper.

Me, on the other hand, I would have been on the floor crying my way back to 2010.  No, let's be honest, 2008.

While we waited for the birthday boy, I got to hang out with these awesome ladies.  My Gram, on the left, and my newest grandmother (Kristina's grandmother) on the right.  At the party she named me her other granddaughter.  I don't think there is a higher compliment I could have received.

I got to hang out with my brother's bestest friends in the world.

Is it strange that only the girls are posing for this picture?

And, of course, my favorite person in the entire world was there holding his spot as the life of the party.

Justin's wife, Kristina, sent me a text in the morning saying that Justin was trying to get to her mother's house (where the party was) early.  Somehow, she managed to postpone him so well that they were a half hour later than expected.

I love how Kristina's best friend, Chrissy, (up front in blue), is the only person looking here.  Everyone else is having fun waiting for Justin's grand entrance.

He had an inkling something was going on when he passed by my dad's army green Hummer on the street.  I think his face still reads 'SURPRISED'.

I thought Justin should have worn the Elton John birthday glasses all day.   But he was too humble for such stardom.

I love when these two get together.

Spaghetti sauce face and all, this picture makes me laugh.

So does this one.

I had to get a final jab in with Justin's birthday gift.

Then I felt bad and had to emphasize that he isn't 'too old', whatever that means...

The expressions of every face in this picture are priceless.  Let's start at the top of the stairs.  That's Kristina's mom.  She looks like the cat who swallowed the canary.  As if she knows what is about to happen with whatever gift Justin is about to open.  Anna, right next to her, looks like she's speculating about what the gift might be.  Kristina's grandmother is deeply concentrating on the card she's looking at.  Hubby, well, aside from his adorable smile, he's also got that huge caterpillar on his upper lip that is always a good laugh to be had.  Kristina is staring in bewilderment at Justin as if she doesn't know whether to laugh or be shocked by the gift he's opening.  And John, blue t-shirt on the right, I'm sure is in the middle of a comical rant on the mood of the room.

We had lots of desserts and...get ready for it...they were all chocolate.

In the background you see my delicious chocolate cake pops.

Perhaps I've been around too many birthday parties where there is only a single number on the cake...

But he blew those candles out far too fast for my liking.

Note to self: trick candles or a candle for every year of life are a must have for anyone over 20.

I think 30 looks good on Justin. 

I'm going to let him know he should hang onto it until my one of my other brothers is ready for it.

#97 He Has a Sister

This is my first time growing old.

What?  It's yours too?

When I was younger, I always thought that the older people had it all figured out.  Now that I am older I realize that no one does.  The younger ones just happen to be the more content because they are usually oblivious to the fact that none of us truly know what is going on.  After all, every person is in a first time experience of the stage of life they are currently in.  Some hide their confusion better than others, some are self deceived, some just follow modeled expectations, but we're all in this for a first and only experience.

In the movie, "Confessions of a Shopaholic" (personal confession, this is one of my favorites), Rebecca Bloomwood's father offers to sell the RV he purchased with his life savings to help pay off her debt.  She says to him, "I will kill you if you sell it.  It completely defines you.  Completely."

He responds, "Nothing defines me, except you and your mother."

Our family does define us.  It makes us who we are.  Although it might not always be good, I'd much rather be defined by people than by objects.

A family filled with children takes this idea to a whole new level.  Growing up (and still today) I was one of four children.  Wait, let me rephrase that, I was one girl with three brothers.  One sister to three brothers.  Three boys and a girl.

Yes, whatever way you say it cannot make it sound any better.

One girl against three boys...that was my life.

When my third brother was born my world collapsed.  I had convinced myself that it would be a girl.  Finding out the baby was a boy devastated me.  Children are resilient, and I was no extraordinary specimen of a child.  I soon got over it and somehow became satisfied with how life was playing out with my three boys.

My oldest brother, Justin, helped to define me from the start.  He was born two years before me, so growing up I walked in his shadow.

Note: I did not say lived in his shadow.  That would not have been cool.

Justin and I did everything together, played outside together, shared the same friends, and had the same house rules to adhere to; a two year difference did not give any cause to adjust house rules.  This continued well into our teen years.  When he learned to drive, I was learning to drive by watching.  When he got his license, I was the first he got lost with.  As we got older, and the fun of playing outside wore off, we spent a lot of time watching movies together.  One night during our high school years, I was sick and throwing up every half hour or so.  Justin sat up with me all night, and, between barfs, watched the entire first season of 24 with me.

Justin was my first friend ever.  During those years he made a deposit into my life that makes up a percentage of who I am today.

The years I was dating and first married to my husband drifted into a deposit of time and influence with my younger brother, Joel.  Oddly, Joel, who is five years younger than me, felt the need to constantly chaperone his 17-year-old sister and her boyfriend.  He clearly felt a little threatened.  Yet, this deposited in my life a clear admittance of his love for me which only grew into a relationship I never expected I would have with a brother, especially a bratty younger one.  Throughout the end of my high school years and until I married my husband, Joel, my youngest brother Jonathan, and I all slept in the same room.  We all had our own bedrooms and if we had been forced to share a bedroom, we probably would have wailed constantly about how unfair and cruel our parents were.  Yet, this situation was unique and special because we created it, and it was our very own.  During the week we would sleep on the bunk beds in my room and Jonathan would sleep on the floor.  Eventually we ended up sleeping only in the living room.

I'm sure this situation sounds out of whack.  In fact, you might question why my parents allowed such nonsense.  Children making their beds in the living room when they have their own beds to sleep in?  Preposterous, right?

For whatever reason my parents allowed it, when I look back on those bedtimes spent with my brothers, I wouldn't trade them for a million peaceful nights sleep.  We would slowly drift off to the sounds of "I Love Lucy", sometimes watch a late night movie together, and many times Joel and I would have late night conversations about life from our separate couches that we had fashioned into the perfect beds.    

No matter what happens in life, I'll always have that deposit of time and relationship made with my brother Joel.

That youngest brother, Jonathan, the one who should have been a girl, has made the largest deposit in my life.  Being born with Down syndrome did not hinder him from becoming a person who can inspire and influence those around him.  He has given me my focus in life, many of the good moral qualities I possess, as well as many of the goofy carefree ones.

I may not have been given the sister I had hoped for when I was growing up, but God still had a plan to bless me with sisters.  Three, in fact.  My first sister came through my marriage.  I didn't realize this at first, but through the years she has been everything a sister should be.  She has made fun of me, she has laughed with me, and most importantly, she has always had my back.  The biggest deposit she has ever made in my life is to love me unconditionally and for that I can never pay her back.

My second sister came to me when my brother Justin got married.  An only child herself, I never realized how important Justin's three siblings might be to her.  We are her only siblings.  She put up with a lot of sibling nonsense to get accepted into our family, but had I realized what having a sibling meant to her, I might have made an effort to make it easier on her.  She has deposited perspective into my life.  Until she came along I lived in the little world of my family and my family only.  Our way of life, our way of doing things, our way of seeing things.  I have learned to see and understand the world through other people's viewpoints because of her.

My third sister will be born on August 17th this year.  I know she will make deposits into my life that will continue to define me.  I can only hope to be the big sister to her that many, though not through marriage, have been to me.

I refuse to take complete credit for the person I am.  I am composed of the countless number of people and situations that have crossed my path during my lifetime.  My only goal is to weed out the negative influences that many have to offer and to allow myself to be open to the positive influence of those who deposit thoughts and motives that I value and want to shine through in my life.  

#58 He is Moses, I am Aaron

I often tell my family that my hubby is Moses and I'm Aaron.  If you are familiar with the Biblical story of Moses and Aaron, pardon me while I digress for a moment.

Moses had been chosen by God to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.  Yet, despite this divine appointment he felt unable to speak in front of others.  Therefore, the Lord chose Moses' brother, Aaron, to be a mouthpiece for Moses.

While Lance isn't afraid to speak as Moses was, I often find myself communicating feelings of his that he would not choose to express on his own, specifically to my family members.  Whether it be out of convenience or due to his laid-back-go-with-the-flow nature, the energetic bug-eyed personality of myself refuses to let my hubby's feelings go unheard, especially with his best friend, my brother, Joel.

I've recently realized that as Lance and I are like Moses and Aaron, Joel and I are like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday.  (I'm sure you are wondering the connection between these religious personalities and notorious westerners.  Stop wondering, there is no connection).  

First Day of School, 2002 (My senior year)

Joel became Lance's closest friend over the course of our five years dating.  When we first started dating, Joel was 11 and hated Lance.  

Yes, hated.

He would pester and follow us around, all simply for the point of being a nuisance.  In later years, I'd learn from Joel that deep down he was really just upset that this guy had shown up out of nowhere and taken his dear sister away from him.  

But somewhere in my growing relationship with my soon-to-be hubby, Joel grew up.  And he went from being an annoying brother to someone we both actually wanted to be around.  He  became someone my hubby and I could both call best friend.  

For me, he was someone whose personality meshed well with mine.  Someone who understood me, and even when he didn't understand me he still empathized with me.

Growing up, I had best friends and close friends like any typical child.  In high school, I had my circle of friends.  Yet, once I met my hubby the world shifted, a lot.  Some friends I lost, others got placed on the back burner, yet few in the end stayed true.   

Joel and Me, 2008

Joel became my Wyatt Earp during the first year I was married.  He had always been, I just didn't realize it.  For some time I had been feeling a little down on myself because I didn't have many friends.  I had "friends" but not friends like I'd once had before.  Lance was my best friend.  We would hang out with my brothers (but they were just brothers, right?) and that was pretty much it.  It had been fine in the beginning of our relationship, but I soon began to feel like there was something wrong with me for having my everything be only him.  (I now know better).

The first year we were married I worked as a merchandiser for Fossil, Inc.  It was an incredible job to have right out of college.  I set up displays in various Macy's stores and when I was done I went home.  

I went home a lot.  

My plan was to use the time I got home from work early to work on writing.  Yet, somehow every single time I came home I'd get a call from Joel asking to come over or go somewhere and I'd always cave in, decide I didn't really want to write that day anyway, and head over to be with him.

Looking back, I'm so much happier that I put time into us than into just me.

In the end of the movie, "Tombstone," Doc Holliday is dying of tuberculosis, yet, he is still running around with a gang of Earp's men to try and gain vengeance and defeat the gang that murdered Earp's brother.  One of Earp's men, Turkey Creek Jack Johnson (great name, right?) says to Doc after he has just hacked up a good amount of blood, "Why you doin' this, Doc?"

Doc answers, "Because Wyatt Earp is my friend,"

Turkey Creek says, "Well, hell, I've got lots of friends,"

Doc says, "....I don't."

I'm not so down on myself anymore feeling that I don't have friends.  Now I have  friends, but, truth be told, I don't have many Wyatt Earp friends.  There is an underlying bond to a Wyatt Earp friend.  Something that makes them a little higher than the rest.  Something that makes them worth giving anything for.

It's important in friendships to strive to be Doc Hollidays: friends willing to give up anything for their friends; but we also need to be Wyatt Earps: friends worth giving up anything for.  

Joel and Me, 2011

#48 He Makes Piles

For years I lived in the oblivion that all families make piles.

My brother's girlfriend recently informed me, that no, not all families make piles.

I was shocked. What a terrific, yet terrifying, sibling bonding experience the world has been missing out on!

Many a day growing up, as I was seeking relaxation stretched out on the couch, I'd find myself shaken from my comfort mode into alert mode as brothers piled upon me with the only thought in their minds being to replace my relaxation with discomfort.

And although it takes my breath away every time, making piles are childhood memories I'd never replace.

Here, dear reader, is a pile:

This is a purely perfect pile. The faces of the participants of this pile depict the reality of being a part of a pile. On the bottom layer, we have my brother Joel. He is playing the part of the one who has been piled on. Typically, a person in this position doesn't see a pile coming until it is already in the midst of happening. Then, they're stuck. Note the sheer pain he is going through is represented by the fat vein bulging out in the middle of his forehead.

My sister-in-law, Sam, is on top. I love Sam. She'll jump right into something crazy like a pile without questioning or wondering why. The person on top is always happiest. They also, for the most part, control how long the pile stays in place.

Those in the middle share a sort of satisfaction with the person on top by knowing that they are adding to the person on bottom's pain. (Notice the look of delight on hubby's and Jonathan's faces).

But all piles are not quite as neat and lovely as this one.

Here's an ugly one:

This is a pile gone wrong for so many reasons. Number one, look at how content Joel looks on the bottom.

The person on bottom should never look content.

Second, those blankets just don't add to the mix. They take away from the pure discomfort that a pile should cause.

Third, look at how twisted second layer Jonathan is. This kind of positioning helps to take away the pain from those on the lower levels.

Lastly, hubby, well...I have no words at the present moment.

Regardless if it's a pile done wrong or a pile done right, all in all, I love piles. They are a surefire bonding experience filled with laughter, discomfort, and love.