My little sister, Jamie, was born the day before my third birthday. My mom has a picture of me at the hospital, beaming from ear to ear, and she says the reason I look so thrilled is because I believed Jamie was my birthday present.
My parents divorced when I was five, so for most of our childhood, it was just Mom, Jamie, and me. Mom and I had a very close relationship, almost more like best friends, while Jamie was like our baby. My poor sister, having to grow up with two mothers. And one of them (c'est moi) wasn't very nice to her.
Take our favorite pasttime, playing Barbies. I guess it's pretty obvious what we enjoyed spending our allowance on: we had several Barbie dolls, and TONS of Barbie clothes and accessories, but only two Ken dolls. The "old" dark-haired Ken, though at one time was more handsome, had become a naked amputee, while the "new" blond Ken had nothing but a pair of swimming trunks in which to wear. Every time we played, I'd be a good big sister and let Jamie use the better blond Ken, you know, the one with arms and legs. However, and this is where you can just maybe kinda see how having the knowledge as a child that your father was a womanizer can mess you up, her Barbie could only be married to the good Ken if my Barbie could steal him away from her. My Barbie was always the mean, manipulative, slutty, husband-stealing bitch. I was a Desparate Housewife at the ripe old age of 10. Yeah, you think I had some issues? Sweet little Jamie would always let her mean big sister have her way, though, even when it was just plain wrong. And, sweet little Jamie got her revenge eventually. I just happen to recall a certain Barbie doll belonging to yours truly who got into the hands of an angry little sister who chopped all her hair off Sinead O'Connor style and scraped the tips of her plastic boobies off on the sidewalk. Boy, you sure did show me, Jamie Elizabeth.
And then there was the fighting, good grief did we fight. Jamie played the part of little sister perfectly, picking, picking, picking, picking, until I would explode into a terrible rage. After I calmed down, she'd be in her room crying, and I'd go in and apologize and plead with her not to tell Mom. And she wouldn't. Of course, being the mean manipulative bitch I was, the minute she'd lay a hand on me, I'd waste not one second before running to Mom.
It wasn't all bad, though. We were both afraid of the dark and afraid of sleeping alone at night, so we'd often camp out in each other's bedrooms, one sleeping in the twin bed, the other in a sleeping bag. Or, on school nights, with our rooms next door, one of us would knock on the wall to let the other know she was still awake, and then if the other was awake, she'd knock back, just as a way to reassure one another we weren't alone. And despite the evilness with which I'd conduct my Barbie playing, we would have her entire tiny bedroom (we always played in her room, for some reason) decked out as one ginormous Barbie castle and we'd play for hours upon hours upon hours. And boy, did we master Mario Bros. 3 together on the Nintendo!
If one thing can be said about Jamie, it's that she definitely has a forgiving heart. After everything I've done to her, and believe me that wasn't even the tip of the iceburg, my little sister yesterday asked me to be her matron of honor at her wedding. Part of me feels overwhelmed that my baby sister, my lifelong birthday present, who is freaking getting MARRIED, wants her big sister by her side during this huge step in her life. Then there's the mean, manipulative bitch part of me who is pissed that I'm going to have to give a toast at the big event. Gosh, Jamie, don't you know public speaking is like, one of my biggest fears? Seriously, it's right up there with the fear of needles!
Really, though, I am honored. And I am scared. I don't know what the hell I'm going to say. It'll probably be some sort of rambling nonsense similar to this post. I do know what I'm giving to Jamie after the toast, though...
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My sister and niece have FINALLY come home from Virginia for a visit! We hadn't seen them since Thanksgiving - which is way too long to go without seeing your sister and niece, if you ask me. This had been the longest amount of time I've ever gone without seeing either Jamie or Ella, and I didn't like it one bit. When you've been apart from most people for that long, I always think it's kind of awkward at first when you see each other. But nope, not with them. Ella came barging into my bedroom and started yapping away to me like she just saw me yesterday, and Jamie and I acted as bored as usual to see each other. That's the great thing about family - you don't have to pretend.
Asher was SO excited to be around Ella. They arrived by train SUPER early on Saturday morning (around 5 a.m.), so Asher and I were still in bed when they got to our house. They came in and woke us up just before eight, and usually Asher is a total grumpersaurus if you wake him up. But the second he flopped over and saw Ella's face, he sat straight up, got a huge cheeky grin, and started kicking his crazy legs like mad. And that's pretty much how he was the whole time around her. 
We have lots of fun things planned for their visit home. This Friday, we're going to The Children's Museum, next Thursday we're going to the zoo, and next Friday we're going to make some pottery and go to Chuck E. Cheese. I love it when Jamie and Ella visit. Not only is it awesome to see them, but we all actually go out and do activities as a family. Who knew I'd miss doing things together as a family so much? Ten years ago, going to Chuck E. Cheese with my parents and sister would have sounded like cruel and unusual punishment. 
