Holiday Parties

For someone with a life in shambles, I've still managed to attend quite a few Christmas functions including lunches with friends and card parties. You can take the party out of your life but you can't take the party out of this girl. I still have several get-togethers to go. My low-key Christmas has been a wonderful balance of relaxation and festivities.

Last night we went to my sister's house. I find most holiday decorations magical but it's even more so in homes with young children. (She and her husband have three.) I love asking the children which ornaments are their favorites and seeing the pride in their little faces.

My oldies hosted Christmas Eve for many years. When my sister and her real siblings were children, spending Christmas Eve at my parents gave Santa a chance to finish some last minute details away from prying eyes. All three children remember these gatherings and speak of them often.

As usual, life comes full circle. Although it wasn't Christmas Eve and we were missing a few people, the night was quite similar to those from years past. The menu had many of the favorites we've shared over time. Some decorations were familiar. The laughter was spontaneous and frequent. And three little children danced around in the true spirit of the season.

Sibling Love and Respect

Today is Cecily Crossman's birthday. She is someone I fiercely love and admire with an almost stalker-like zeal. She is also my aunt -- my father's only living sibling. They are crazy about each other and their devotion is admirable on many levels.

As an only child, my experience with siblings is through observation and of course, the siblings I have chosen.

Anyone who thinks it is easier for two sisters to be close would learn quite a bit from the brother/sister duo above.

Happy birthday Aunt Cess and thanks for always being there for my dad.

Homecomings

My sister and I went through the Christmas decorations yesterday. No blood was shed. In fact, we didn't even have to arm wrestle. We were in unison on several items as we turned to my mother and said, "You have to keep this." I took a few things. Like I really need more decorations.

Then I started getting antsy. I wanted to shout, "It's time to go to the neighborhood party!" I did not want to miss a minute.

Everyone should have an occasional day that includes hours and hours of laugh-out-loud fun. I think I've filled my quota for the year. Even my mother stayed until the bitter end. She must have been enjoying our antics and I know she enjoyed the stories. I liked it best when she would say, "Sheri, do you remember so and so?" With complete disrespect, I said, "No Mom, I only went to grade school, middle school and high school with this person. Why don't you introduce us?"

Then the photos started circulating. The stories got a lot more interesting. (That's the great thing about this age --what are they going to do, ground us?)

The neighborhood is right behind a naval plant. Well, I don't know what they make there now but when I was growing up (Cold War Years,) it was all very hush-hush. As far as I know, none of us are radioactive. The military underestimated a group of kids who ran along that strip. As we sat behind my friends' homes last night, the fence (with barbed wire) is still there. Many of us said, "I've scaled that fence." One said, "I could still do it." Thankfully, level heads prevailed.

We danced. We sang. We ate well. We told stories that no parent should ever have to hear.

I could write forever about this. Trust me, there's more to come. But I have another homecoming. The husband comes back today. He missed a great party.

Transfer of Power

For an only child, I have a lot of sisters. I have my goldies. I have my girlfriends. I have ny cousins and aunts. I also have the lady above who grew up, got married and birthed three children.

Like true sisters, we sometimes have to compete or compromise. She has her own parents but she has captured a humongous part of my parent's hearts. I am so grateful for their relationship.

My parents have decided to weed through Christmas ornaments and decorations. They're downsizing. My sister has three little ones; my little ones have flown the coop. I do not need more Christmas decorations. In my will, the Christmas stuff I have will go to my sister and our children.

But ...

I'm vacillating. Some of these might be important to me.

The last time I decorated a tree with my parents, I was 17-years old. My sister has been there for most of the decorating, candy-making, etc. for more than 30 years.

If I'm honest with myself, I know she can and should take whatever she wants. I want to be the monitor. It's the control freak in me.

We've picked a date to go through stuff. She invited me. You might think I would find this offensive. Instead, I thought what a gift she is to all of us.

But, if we disagree on an ornament, I will wrestle her skinny butt to the ground and I will win.

Sharing

People always assume that the only child is spoiled rotten. I will light the way and show you the truth. Children with jillions of siblings are the selfish ones. They grow up fighting and finagling for their fair share of affection, quality time, new shoes and sometimes food. As adults, they tend to hang on tightly to what is rightfully theirs.

I find only children to be the opposite. We didn't have to share in our childhood so our parents drilled the importance of giving and sharing into us. Need a car? Borrow mine. Need some books? I'll put a box together for you. Need a shoulder to cry on? I always have time. Are you in trouble or scared? I'll put clean sheets on the guest bed and tuck you in.

Being an only child is supposedly very lonely but that's not reality. I have this posse of friends, aunts, cousins who make me feel like siblings. Plus, I have my pseudo sister and especially my goldies.

Locks and Lots of Love

My sister has three children -- 2 boys and a girl. Like lots of young women, her life revolves around these babies. From an outsider looking in, she seems to have it all: a loving husband, healthy children, a nice home, etc. She's been through more than her share of adversity yet she didn't let it destroy her. She grew a bigger heart.

Her daughter, her baby, had long and luxurious hair, complete with the baby curls on the ends. She cut 10 inches off her daughter's hair and donated it to Locks of Love, an organization that helps children with cancer or other diseases that support children who simply want to look normal and fit in.

This girl -- my sister, not her daughter -- has put up with me for decades. I have a big, fat mouth. I have criticized many of her decisions. I have bullied her, hopefully in a loving way.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. I say it takes one decision, one sacrifice to make a difference. There's a girl out there who will fit in because of this donation. Way to go, Baby Sis.

And Yet, She Annoys Me

I try to be a faithful and dutiful daughter. I would gnaw off my arm for any person I love. That includes parents, children and friends.

What is it with mothers and daughters?

How can I spend an entire day anticipating time with my parents and then within 30 seconds, I want to strangle her with my bare hands? (Just maim her.) It takes less than five seconds for her to make a critical comment. In the next second, I begin making faces and rolling my eyes.

We spent the evening together Saturday night. I had the water mister out so the dog would behave. My mother spritzed the dog because she had the nerve to look at her.

My dad plays referee. He says things like, "Well, here we go. Fasten your seat belts, this should be fun."

Thankfully, my pseudo sister was here too. She's a great diversion, a good card player and she makes me laugh.

My mother only birthed one child. She repeatedly called me by my sister's name.

Family Photo Rules

My Uncle Ken had a rule about photos, particularly photos that captured the event. It could've been a holiday or a family reunion but the rule was this:

If you are not related to or married to someone in this family, please step away as we take the family photo.

The first time he ever met the husband, we were not married. My father had not seen his sisters together in decades. An aside: We don't go to many reunions and we get a lot of grief for it. My paternal grandmother's maiden name was Strange. It's a little jarring to be driving through the countryside, looking for a particular park or gathering place and watching for signs that say, "Strange Family Reunion." God does have a sense of humor.I think it was 1992. We have a photo of my father, his sisters, the husband (who was not a husband at the time) and me. My mother keeps this photo on her desk. I visit it in my mind.A few months later, my Uncle Ken came to our home and performed a wedding blessing ceremony for us. He loved us but I'm also convinced he was validating the photo.

Watching Sibling Love

My life, although stressful, is pretty cushy. As an only child, I never realized the power of a sister or a brother watching out for you. (But now I do have my sister to boss around.) My childhood was damn cushy.

I wish the same could be said for my parents and their siblings. Reminiscing is fun and I love most of the stories. There are many that cause a belly laugh. Luckily, both of my parents and their sisters have amazing senses of humor.

They also all had different versions of bad childhoods. Sometimes I can't listen to those stories. I go into Sheri's World because it hurts my heart to hear them.

No one dwells on the negative. Each person has dealt with it in his or her own way. They've managed to go on and create stable and loving families. (The jury's still out on my stability.)

The oldies did their best raising four boys but in my uneducated opinion, the brothers aren't very close to the oldies or their siblings. It seems to me that it's more duty and obligation.

On the other hand, my parents have this close and bonded relationship with their siblings. My mother talks (or emails) with her sisters almost every day. They disagree, they get frustrated and yet, it's a lifeline.

My father and I went to the airport yesterday to pick up his sister. He was giddy with the anticipation of seeing her. And they both lit up like neon signs when they spotted each other.

They've survived their storms, although there are more to come. Seeing a face that looks a lot like yours and knowing this kind of love is precious. And heart warming.

Airport Joy

My dad and I went to the airport today to pick up his sister. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. There's that moment when someone you love (and haven't seen in a while) comes into view ... it's bliss.

You always have to kill a little time wating for a plane. I'm anal so I kept checking on the flight and then when she called me, I started giving my dad little hand signals to start the car and get moving. I'm pretty sure he wanted to slap me back to reality but he didn't. (Seeing his sister was a great diversion.)

Tonight is their sibling time. Tomorrow her boyfriend will join us and the husband and I will dominate, even though we don't mean to do so.

With kisses and hugs, I sent my dad and his sister off to enjoy their evening. Then, I cried. But they were tears of great joy.

How Much Do You Weigh?

There are certain questions that are not polite to ask. At least, that's what I was taught. Politics and religion are tricky topics. "How old are you?" used to be taboo but that seems to have changed. I'll give you my opinion on current political situations. I'm anxious to hear what others think. I'll tell you my religious affiliation and I love a respectful debate. For years I was coy about my age but I'm over that now. If you ask, I tell the truth.

I won't tell my weight.

When my "sister" was 2-years old, she told anyone and everyone within shouting distance that she weighed 28 lbs. The baby used to tell everyone his weight. I guess we pay so much attention to height and weight charts when they're children, it's natural for them to be fascinated with these numbers.

There's a scale in my bathroom. The husband gets on it every day. Occasionally, he tells me the number. I rarely step on it. I know where I am by how my clothes fit. Sometimes I put my luggage on it to make sure I won't be charged for a bag that weighs more than 50 lbs. I've put the dog on it. Other than that, it's just one more thing I trip over as I stumble to the shower.

Sometimes the workout girls discuss weight. It's usually vague comments, "I feel fat," etc. (There is not a fat person in the room.) Rarely are numbers thrown around. I'm in safe territory because if someone asks me, I can honestly say I don't know.

I went to the doctor yesterday for myself and the oldies. The first thing they do is put you on that huge, ominous scale. Then, THEY WRITE IT DOWN! Another quirk, but this is not fun for me. Thankfully, my doctor is an honorable guy and a great friend. I'm fascinated with numbers but this number will remain our secret.

28 Pounds

Although I am an only child, I have a pseudo sister.

When I was twelve years old, a new family moved in across the street. I offered my services as a babysitter for their two-year old daughter and infant son. I was a safe option, with my parents right across the street. I babysat for them a lot. They also spent a lot of time with my parents. When my dad would come home from work, the daughter would stand on the sidewalk and scream across the street, "Paulie, I weigh 28 pounds."

My mother went through a tough time when I headed off to college. Luckily, my sister was there. She helped decorate the Christmas tree and she hung out. She loved (and still loves) hanging out in the kitchen with my mother.

When she was a teenager, we grilled her about everything. Boys, school, sex, politics, etc. I would've run away screaming but she put up with us.

She was in a horrible car accident in her late teens -- we honestly didn't know if she would survive. My mother went to the hospital and later the rehab place every day. No one (with the possible exception of her parents) prayed harder than my mother. She survived and thrived.

Today, she's married and the mother of three. She and my mother have lots of rituals and traditions that have nothing to do with me. They have standing dates for certain tv shows. She and my mother make all of the Christmas candy. They regularly go for gas station cappuccinos. I find it amusing that they have so much in common because none of this interests me. They invite me sometimes. I decline.

I pulled her aside once and said, "Please don't ever hurt my parents." I now realize how dumb that was. They're her parents too. She's my sister.