Missing My Sisters
There’s something about sisters. No other bond like it on earth.
If any of you know my sisters Stephanie and Julie in real life, you’re lucky. They are a couple of my very favoritest people on the planet. Smart. Funny. Pretty. Spunky. Spontaneous. Quirky. And we all carry the same brand of emotional damage from being raised by our parents (love you, Mom and Dad!).
I talk to each of them about once a week, give or take. Stephanie lives in Utah and Julie lives in Arizona. They are both too far away. I always nag them about blogging more, but it’s just because I miss them so much and want to see all that they are up to and read their thoughts and just feel closer to them.
When we all get together, craziness happens. Like when we had a family reunion a few years ago and compared bra sizes. That’s probably pretty normal for sisters. We took it too far when we decided to go a step further and compare the, um, firmness of Steph, who had nursed four children, Julie, who was currently five months pregnant with her first child, and me who hadn’t experienced pregnancy or nursing. Our husbands are still scarred.
I always idolized Stephanie. She has always had a very caring spirit and was a second mother to me. She’s just so sweet. I loved brushing her hair and helping her get ready for dates. I remember when she went to Rick’s College (now BYU-I) and I spent a few days with her. It was awesome! I felt so mature and loved every minute of it, although I am sure I was royally obnoxious and probably embarrassed her in front of all her roommates and FHE brothers. Being the youngest child, I didn’t have a lot of experience with babies. Stephanie was brave enough to let me discover that world with her children. We all still laugh about the time one of her twin boys began peeing while I was changing his diaper. She told me to catch it with the clean diaper, so I held open the clean diaper like a baseball glove and tried to get under the arc of the pee from about a foot away instead of just throwing the diaper right on top of the baby.
Julie and I had a love/hate relationship. Being the closest sibling in age to me, and also a girl, we shared rooms a lot when we were little. We even shared a bed. There was often an imaginary line down the center of the room and we were forbidden to cross into enemy territory. We fought. Physically, at times. And sometimes we played. I loved tagging along with Julie and her friends. She, of course, hated it. I often borrowed her clothes when she was in high school without asking. She would get so mad. She left for school before I, so I got in the habit of asking her empty bedroom “Can I borrow this?” And then at least I had asked, even if she wasn’t there to respond.
Julie is currently ready to pop with baby number three. She’s been given so many due dates, it’s hard to keep track, but I think October 13th was her first one, so I am anxiously awaiting news of a new little nephew. With three kids age 3 and under, I don’t think she’ll have a moment for herself until her oldest starts kindergarten, but I am happy for her.
My mom also has a fun relationship with her sisters. My mom and two of her three sisters (and their husbands, of course) all moved to southern Utah when they retired. They now play cards together all day, go to the theater together, and go camping together, and lots of other fun things. I really hope in 40 years to be in the same situation with my sisters and their husbands.
Love you forever, ladies!