Even with 5 years between us, my younger sister and I have a good relationship and I’ve missed her terribly for the past few years being 1000 miles away.  Growing up we loved each other, although we fought as siblings do and made-up when my Mom always lectured, “She’s the only sister you’ll ever have.”  When Jackie entered first grade many moons ago, at the same private school where I was, I didn’t hesitate to protect her from the line of boys pursuing her.  Being older, I was my sister’s first line of defense against boys.  She always remained picture-perfect in her dresses, unlike me.  It took many years to finally see it, but when I did, I shook my head in disgust.  Maybe at myself for obtaining less mud and grass stains on my clothes than the boys while we played red-rover-red-rover/softball/soccer-take your pick or perhaps it was with my Mom for having high expectations of me coming home spotless like Jackie. The most likely scenario for my Mom was recognizing that the countless hours she spent sewing together pieces of fabric to create beautiful dresses like the following were completely irrelevant to me.

As hard as I tried as a kid, this broad-shouldered girl was not demure and I found myself rather confused by all the pig-tailed girls like my sister who were.  My goal at recess was to play and play hard, which included returning from recess with a sweaty red face, which equaled intense fun.  If grass and mud-stains could be graded at a private school surrounded by acres of grass, I was the valedictorian.  Grass stains on my dresses and holes in my tights were consistent.  I remember my Mom being horrified when she discovered (after many months) that I came up with what I thought was a grand idea to wear shorts under my dresses and over my tights.  For what?  To prevent boys from seeing my Underoos when I flipped upside-down from or climbed on top of the Monkey Bars.  While wearing a dress.  Duh.  Meanwhile, my sister likely spent recess with her friends picking dandelions and frolicking.  Another pastime at recess was locating who was in trouble and was pounding the chalk out of the erasers at the end of the building because I discovered those little piles of chalk-dust were tasty, or maybe I thought that a saliva coated finger dipped in chalk dust tasted just like Fun Dip.  Don’t judge.  It’s no different than eating glue paste.  I was a good kid and harmless, but I could find trouble or create it with some hair-brained ideas – like the self-made Fun (Chalk) Dip.  While I was at school finding shenanigans, my sister was being her teacher’s pet and very helpful passing out things to her classmates or playing the ideal daughter at home as she played with her collection of Barbies.

Through it all, my sister and I survived.  I mentioned Jackie’s survival also because I was almost five when Jackie was born and shortly after meeting my new sister, I attempted to help feed her a whole dinner-roll.  My Mom caught me ‘helping’ my sister and found it in her heart to NOT cease my breathing-habit despite my misguided efforts to feed my baby-sister solids way too soon.  I also ran over her on my bike – not to be mean, but she got in my way and I couldn’t stop quickly enough.  Speaking of bikes, I think we were one of the last generations to ride bikes sans helmets.  And lived to tell about it.  I think we were also one of the last generations who got away with chewing ABC (Already Been Chewed) gum that we innocently discovered on the ground or found stuck to the underside of desks in school.  Not to mention how many times lollipops were dropped on the ground, wiped-off and shoved back into our mouths.  We survived.  A little gravel in the diet was probably good for a colon-cleansing.   I would insert an amusing Saturday Night Live parody commercial here for Quarry Breakfast Cereal, but it seems that all links are blocked for copyrighted material on YouTube.  Even in the midst of our ignorance, I suspect our foolishness contributed to strengthening our immune systems and we didn’t even have antibacterial hand sanitizer.  Yet, somehow we prevailed…

My sister and I could not be more different.  I was athletic and therefore, a tom-boy   She was and still remains a girly-girl, although with my precious niece and nephew in-tow, ruffles aren’t nearly as practical these days.  I read her blog and I don’t want to say that I’m proud because I have no right to be, but I am impressed.  She’s a busy stay-at-home-Mom with a six year-old and a two year-old in-tow, creating meal-plans, running a successful blog about life as a Wife and Mommy, that is filled with pictures of her family, creative projects, and dishes she’s made, which includes the recipes.  Then there’s me who is not nearly as refined.  Me caveman.

Dress-up!

I have a great deal of wonderful memories that include Jackie – camping, putting-on shows for our parents with duds from our chest of props and accessories (wigs gowns, etc.), going to the theater to see The Lion King and being the Maid/Matron of Honor in each other’s weddings, scrap-booking… The list goes on and on, but obviously as much as we differ, we’re still bonded and have a great deal in common.  I love my sister dearly and am grateful for our relationship.

 Jenn