The Other Sister

Please enjoy this blog entry from my sister, the older sibling in our strange-but-true family.  I'm sure it will become obvious which one of us was the good child.  

I'll expect your full support later.

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I miss M.  Some of you who knew us back in the day may find this shocking.  We weren’t always close or similar - at all.  Every time our Dad informed us that we were “friends” we’d look at him like he was stealing milk from newborn kittens.  How could you?!

Can’t Live With ‘Em

Let me start with a little background for those who haven’t known M and I for our respective 27 and 29 (gasp) years.  Yes, I gave you our ages, and yes, we’re ok with it.  Well, M is anyway.  I think. 

M, are you ok with it?

(Who cares?  She isn’t months from her next milestone.)

The two of us have a roller coaster of a past.  I was stubborn, driven, and hyperactive, with little to no imagination, and loved nothing more than playing in the woods and getting A’s.  M was the artistic, pensive type who cared about everyone and everything (spiders and mosquitoes - yes), and was shockingly adept at pushing my buttons.  Have you ever tried to study while someone was singing in the shower using a nails-on-the-chalkboard, barely audible voice because Mom told her to quiet down and stop bothering you?  Ever rearranged your shared bedroom only to find that someone changed it back as soon as you were gone?  Ever had your sibling thank you for going away to college because the house is civil now that you’re not there?  Developed a gypsy moth caterpillar phobia because your sister kept them in jars everywhere and named them all Lisa?! 

At different points in my childhood I tried, allegedly, to kill my sister.  Can you blame me?  I tried to beat her with a xylophone (“sharing”), poison her with a couple bottles of cough syrup (playing doctor isn’t totally safe, admit it), let her fall off the foundation of the garage while doing gymnastics (4, schmore), break her shins, and generally put her in a continual state of emotional turmoil as I tried to cause constant environmental change despite her incessant protest and horror.  Somehow, we managed to make it to adulthood without killing each another.

Can’t Live Without ‘Em.

After college, M married C, and they moved around the Northeast for a few years.  Then she moved within 15 minutes of me.  Exciting?  I think so.  Granted, 15 minutes really translates into half an hour because you have to spot M at least 15 minutes under perfect conditions.  C generally shakes his head in disbelief whenever the two of us are together.  I’m pretty sure he wants to run screaming like a little girl into the woods on occasion or, more likely, on all occasions.  And really, can you blame him?  Have you ever watched the PSA from eons ago about getting your period?  Don’t do it.  (Now you’re curious?  Really – DON'T do it - we won't even give you the link).  Or spend hours taking pictures of yourselves with a webcam, using every special effect and composing ridiculous captions?  All we need is each other for constant entertainment.  

No, we don't do kids' parties.

M’s blog reads like our email dialogues, so enjoy this peek into our world.  We are most inspired as a pair, so watch out – one of these days we may team-write a post.  And yes, you should be a little nervous.  With our combined efforts, we’ll convince the world that in cases like ours, one child is definitely enough.