Happy Birthday Sister

My beautiful sister turned 30 on Sunday.  When some of my friends turned 30 I paid tribute with words as best I could.  Today I braved the snow to sit at Panera and try to do the same for my first and best friend.

I’ve known my sister all of her 30 years.  In fact, my very first memory is of meeting her.  I remember being in the hospital room with my mom and dad and brother.  They wheeled her in the room inside one of those clear, plastic basinets.  I could see her little head, topped with a fine layer of bright red hair.  She was tiny and pink and impossibly new looking.  She was magical.  Then my aunt’s friend took me to the vending machine and let me pick out whatever I wanted and that was magical too.  

Growing up my sister was a shadow I wanted to shake.  I hated when she was allowed to do the things I was doing.  I wanted her to earn it, as I had, to wait the appropriate amount of years to partake in whatever privilege I had.  We were a little less than three years apart and she was always right behind me, wanting to do all the things I did.  I may have been unnecessarily territorial.  

It wasn’t until high school that I began to really appreciate my sister.  Of course it didn’t start that way.  I remember being so pissed that I had to share my dad for the daddy/daughter dance the fall of my senior year.  I’d had him to myself all the other years and suddenly my freshman sister was there once again honing in on my territory.  But by the end of the night, after dancing and laughing and genuinely enjoying my sisters company she became a real, relatable person.  After that I liked seeing her at school, knowing her friends, sharing the peripherals of each other’s world. 

When I went to college I missed her.  She continued to grow into this interesting, unique, funny person that I wanted to be around.  After college I moved to New York.  She came to visit me one weekend and after I dropped her off at Grand Central to catch the bus to the airport I had the sudden realization that I was ready to move home.  Why the heck was I living a plane ride away from all my people?  I wanted to be flying back on that plane with her, seeing her more than just holidays and occasional weekends.

When I think about my sister all I can think of is “there.”  She is my ultimate go to gal.  She’s been there for me in every sense of the word.  When Tommy and I would get in fights during our dating years she was the one I’d call because I knew she loved him and me and she’d sort me out.  When I eventually married him she was right there next to me.  When Liam was born and everything was harder than I’d ever expected it would be my sister was there.  She lay in bed with me, Liam sleeping on one of our chests watching iCarly or some equally terrible show for hours on end.  Anyone who knows my sister will tell you, she shows up for her people big time.  She’s there.

My sister is funny.  And smart.  She has the biggest heart.  She’s devoted and loyal.  She knows how to connect with everyone.  In our family she is the lynch pin, mostly because she prioritizes us.  Being with family is important.  She’s everyone’s favorite sister (and I’m not even bitter because she deserves it.)  She’s used her tremendous talents to work for non-profits because she believes in the work.  Her friends will tell you she’s the one you want in your corner.  She’s loyal and loving and fierce.

It is my kids that are the luckiest when it comes to my sister.  She has loved them deeply and greatly from the moments they were born.  Finding a unique way to bond with each of them has given them all individual relationships with her.  She is playful and patient, loving and helpful and they love Aunt Ry.  

When I was younger I hated how much my sister wanted to imitate me.  Matching outfits made me grumpy and her treading into any of my supposed territories sent me into a rage.  Now though, I want to be just like my sister.  Truly.  When I grow up I hope I’m more like her.  

I’m not usually at a loss for words.  But when it comes to my sister all I can come up with falls short.  I will reread this essay a thousand times with a angsty feeling because it just doesn’t quite do her justice.  I don’t know if all the perfect words in the world with encapsulate all the things I love about her.  So I will end with this:  I love my sister so much I named my first daughter after her.  There is really no one else I would rather she emulates.  If she can inherit a fraction of my sister’s character, along with her name, she will be lucky.

Happy birthday Ryann.  I love you too much.

The Best Relationships You Never Asked For

Back in July my brother visited from Denver.  I’m one of four and my other two siblings live around here so anytime Tim is in town we all get to enjoy a reunion of siblings. 

I love my siblings and I love the relationships we have as adults.  Even more than that, I’ve come to love seeing my siblings as aunt and uncles.

It’s funny, that aunt/uncle/niece/nephew relationship.  It’s one of the few relationships in which you have no choice in the matter.  I chose to be a wife, a mother, a friend.  My siblings were thrust into this role because of decisions Tommy and I made.  They didn’t ask to be an aunt or uncle.  Didn’t have a say in whether or not they even wanted to accept that role.  The only other relationship like it, in this regard, is one of siblings.  (And believe me when my brother was thrust upon me at 20 months of age, due to a decision my parents made, I probably would have had a few things to say if I’d had the verbal skills.)

But my siblings are amazing with my kids.  Aunt Ry always has suckers in her purse and has more videos of my kids on her phone than I do.  Uncle Tim sends books from Denver.  Uncle Jack lets Monster crash his date when he asks to “come downstairs too?” and watch their movie in the basement.

Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest and not used to seeing them in the caretaker roles, but seeing my siblings with my kids never fails to make my whole heart happy.

They love my kids, these little creatures that, while terribly cute and endearing, are also sometimes (often) whiny, crying, obnoxious pills.  It’s hard to love a kid that’s not your own mid- temper tantrum.  And because none of them have kids of their own, I’m always a little surprised at their natural, easy love for them.

Somewhere along the way my siblings stopped being the obnoxious younger brother who stole my seat every time I left the room.  Or annoying little sister who copied everything I did.  My youngest brother was ten when I left home for college and in the 12 years since he’s become a full on adult who has a life of his own and still lets Monster pretend to play video games with him and has a weakness for Toot’s smile.  They grew up, became my friends and then became important people in my kids’ lives.  I still see pieces of the comrades I grew up with in them.  Watch as they teach my kids the games we used to play together.

Though they didn’t really have a choice in the matter my siblings have risen to the Aunt and Uncle occasion.  I’m thankful for this.  Thankful that there are so many wonderful adults in Monster and Toots’ lives.  Thankful that the three people who hold most of my memories are among that count.  Thankful that the three people I didn’t ever choose ended up being so perfect for me. 

Big Brother

When I was in kindergarten I so desperately wanted a big brother that I invented one.  I told all my classmates that I had an older brother who was in the army (to explain why he wasn’t around).  This was totally ok, because my best friend Jenny, also the eldest child, also created an older brother.  And from that point on I have always craved an older brother.

I don’t know what it was.  I may have been somewhat jealous of my younger sister and brother’s relationship.  Born only 13 months apart they were each other’s best friend and my brother looked out for her in a sweet way.  I also had an older cousin, Dan, who I was totally obsessed with.  He was cool and five years older than I and I would go to bed at night wishing he were my brother.  Weird.

At any rate I have always hoped in my heart that I would have a boy first to be that older brother to his younger sister.  And I can’t even begin to explain how happy it makes me to see Monster with Toots.

Monster is already the sweetest big brother to Toots.  He adores her and will randomly stop playing to give her a big hug or say “Hi!”  He always says good night to her and looks for her in her crib first thing in the morning.

Last week, while we were getting ready for our day, Toots and Monster were hanging out together on our big bed. I needed to run into their room to get clothes for them so I told Monster to keep an eye on his sister and not let her fall off the bed.  Truth be told Curious George was on the television so I didn’t really think that he had heard me or would follow through. 

From the other room I heard him say, “No, no, Toots!  No, no Toots!”  I come rushing into my room to find him holding his sister by the ankle.  She was nowhere near the edge of the bed and had maybe tried to move about an inch.  But Monster was determined to do his job and keep her from falling off the bed.  Oh my sweet boy. 

Add this to the list of things that make a mama proud.  I hope this is the kind of story that weaves itself through our family history in a way that helps to define their sibling relationship.  I hope Monster always takes care to watch out for his sister and she adores his love and attention. 

Monster is exactly the kind of big brother I always wanted.  I hope Toots knows how lucky she is.