Posts Tagged ‘
girls for life ’
Wednesday, January 23rd, 2013
You probably won’t remember much of life before having a sister. It may be all you’ll ever know. I feel it paramount to tell you now, before life changes a bit abruptly for you, you’re going to be a great big sister. I know it. Deep in my bones.
The other night you cried out for me and as I rocked you and you drifted back to sleep, I whispered in your ear. I told you a lot of little things and I thought you asleep when I whispered, “you’re going to be the best big sister.” You surprised me with your softest, sweetest, raspiest, dreamiest reply of, “Yeah” as you nuzzled deeper into my neck. You are my girl. You are.
I know you are little. People ask me continually if you’re excited to be a sister. They ask me if you understand you’re going to be a sister. I know you’ll never quite be adequately prepared for the change of a new baby, but there is something in you that understands the importance of being a sister.
I feel this understanding comes because of the little soul that you are. The little soul that you came with.
You my girl are a feeler. A lover. An inquisitive little being who bounces through the day with excitement and tenacity. These traits make your sister lucky to have you in her life. There is so much she can learn from you.
You are continually interested in how people are feeling and are very perceptive at others’ emotions. You are gentle. You cry easily when others are unkind. The compassion you exhibit means everything in this world. I look forward to watching your tender soul with your new sister.
I wish I could impart some profound wisdom about what I’ve learned from being a sister but I realized, it’s not my wisdom to impart.
I want each of you, your sister and you, to be exactly whoever you want to be. Maybe that means you’ll be very similar. Maybe that means you’ll be completely different. But whatever, whoever you both decide to become, you’ll be uniquely wonderful and get to discover and create your sisterly relationship together.
I know that at times you’ll fight. I know at times you’ll get annoyed. I know at times you’ll say things that you regret. This is part of being a sister. Sisterhood is a lifelong class in discovering and becoming your best self as you learn to forgive, support, and love unconditionally.
I hope that she is your best friend like my sisters are to me.
As sisters, you’re bound for life. I pray that bond strengthens you and lightens you.
It’s big to become a sister, but you’re ready. We’re both as ready as we can be for this new adventure. Just know that I’ll always help you as the landscape of life changes. We’ll all grown and learn together. Let’s put on our brave wings, and fly into this new territory together.
Image: Loving on her sister aka a good foot rest
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Tuesday, December 4th, 2012
My #1 Christmas wish has been granted by Santa: Pregnant with a royal. As a celebrity news enthusiast, I consider this a Christmas miracle. My theory is it makes my baby royal by association, or at least increases her gestational cred (kind of like street cred) by being born in the same year as a royal.
I may have peed my pants with excitement (and in the spirit of pregnant lady solidarity) when I heard news of the royal baby. I figure this brings me one step closer to being Kate’s girl for life. There is nothing so unifying as the crazy miracle of growing a babe.
The happy stories, the horror stories, it brings ladies together. Kate, why can’t we be friends? Let’s share maternity clothes and rub each other’s feet, no? Restraining order, yes.
Really, I give a sincere congratulations to mah girl (I’m taking liberties here) Kate and his handsomeness, Will, on the baby heard round the world, his or her future royal highness.
The royal Palace officially confirmed her pregnancy yesterday, after Kate checked into the hospital for acute morning sickness. Please, it’s not severe morning sickness, it’s royal Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Everything sounds classier through an official Palace statement. And by me adding the word royal.
I knock on wood that it doesn’t happen to her, but when the Palace confirms her royal lack of bladder control and releases her royal dilation, it will all just sound a bit dreamier.
This Christmas, I’ve got visions of royal maternity fashion, royal baby names and royal onesies dancing in my head.
Some may think all the fanfare silly, but I think it grand. While I’m sure there will be plenty of nosiness surrounding the baby, I believe most of it is out of sheer joy. There is something about babies that just makes people ridiculously happy.
Regardless of blood, all babies harbor a bit of royalty in their angelic little innocence and chubbiness. The royal baby, along with all babies, deserve some speculating, dreaming, and congratulating.
I don’t live in a palace but my official homestead report to the couple declares, “My deepest regrets on the royal morning sickness, but my sincerest cheers on this amazing experience. Parenthood is the absolute best.”
Image: Her pregnant foxiness, Princess Catherine, and Prince William, via Featureflash/Shutterstock.com
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Friday, November 16th, 2012
When I was a young, lazy thing, loathing my daily chores, I was certain my mom had kids just so she wouldn’t have to do as much work (mothers everywhere are laughing at my stupidity). I envisioned the day I’d have a gaggle of whippersnappers to do my bidding while I sat on the couch, ate bonbons and watched my progrums. Not that my mom did any of that, but as a young lady who wanted to be of leisure, I dreamt big. Oh how much I thought I knew, but really did not know in adolescence.
One of the biggest motivating factors to have another child was to give our daughter a sibling. My husband might tell a different tale of my incurable baby fever with the only prescription being more babies, but this is my account and baby fever was only moderately responsible for our decision.
Really, it’s because with all my heart, I believe in siblings. But not because of the fictional Cinderella syndrome I had when I was younger. It’s because family makes you better.
It’s not that I think singletons are at a disadvantage. I know families come in all shapes and sizes but for me, family means siblings and chaos and noise. There are 8 kids in my family (pick your jaw up off the floor). I have learned from them that there is an unbelievable bond in sharing a childhood with others who were raised under the same roof and turn out so alike and yet, so different. I love my big, fat, crazy-opinionated family. Not to mention, it’s really comforting knowing there are others who share my idiosyncrasies and don’t judge me for picking my nose. Or at least have stopped calling me out on it.
I believe there are character building attributes learned best in the trenches of sibling-hood. I know my brother and sisters have made me a better person and I want to give my daughter the same chance of betterment from her familia. I have learned a plethora of things from my near baseball team number of siblings, but here’s a few of the more noteworthy lessons.
Things I’ve Learned from my Siblings:
1. Trust. Nothing teaches the value of trust like the battlegrounds of sibling rivalry. When you see one sister feeding another sister lotion, claiming it’s vanilla pudding, you learn very quickly what the word trust means. Also, a secondary lesson about the actual color of vanilla pudding.
2. Forgiveness. A good follow-up to trust, I learned quickly to forgive, and that perhaps forgiveness may not mean forgetting and possessing a wariness of vanilla pudding for the remainder of your life. In addition, I know I did things everyday to tee off my siblings. I am no saint, but to this day, despite the bickering, we’re all really great friends. Even the sister whose cheeks I grabbed in jest right after she had her wisdom teeth removed. It might have taken some groveling, and she may still keep her cheeks far from striking distance, but I’d say we’ve let bygones be bygones. Right? Seester?
3. Sharing. When 7 out of 8 of your siblings are girls, that means closets. Well, hopefully, if they’re sharers. Right now I force sharing upon my daughter because it makes her a better, more generous member of society, but also for my sisterly sharing clothes days of yore. I want her to be the one who generously opens her closet to her baby sister (my young teenage dream). I mean no one wants to be known as the stingy sister. I know I wasn’t the stingy one because I was the one forcing my sisters to say it was MY item of clothing if they got any sort of compliment about it. Yep, I was that sister. At least I shared?
4. Empathy. Heartbreak, breakouts, parental drama, siblings have been there. They get it. They know why curfew is impossible to keep and agree that your mom is the only mom sleeping in your bed until you get home from a late night out. Enter exasperated sigh. They feel for you differently than your friends because they have lived with your parents too.
Years later, they are also the same people with whom you’ll discuss how smart your mom was for sleeping in your aforementioned bed and you’ll simultaneously rack your brains to remember all of your parents’ other stellar tricks now that you’re a parent.
5. Unconditional Love. Perfect is most definitely not anyone’s middle name. Especially for me. I get a little too cutthroat at board games, I don’t always think before I speak, I sucked my thumb until I was 14, and I had 1980s bangs until the year 2000. Even though I wish my siblings had told me sooner about my bangs faux pas, I knew they unconditionally loved me for me; the big banged, bucked tooth, thumb sucking, awkward tween.
I am still honing the above characteristics, but I’m grateful for the jump start my siblings gave me. Learning and growing with those who share the same DNA and quirks makes life infinitely better. And if for some reason I totally flub these lessons for my girls, at the very least they’ll have someone else to complain to about me.
Image: My mama and some of my siblings
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Friday, September 21st, 2012
We’re having a girl!
All the old wives’ tales, witch doctor magic we’d been using to try and determine gender were wrong. I’ll be honest, I thought it was a boy. I was convinced, ready to start buying bow-ties and suspenders, envisioning my little nerdlet convinced. The Rands (my husband) knew better. He was in camp girl all along.
As I giddily walked into the ultrasound appointment, I was certain I was going to see some man parts. Even though I don’t know what to do with man parts (that’s what she said), I was ready to learn. But as the money shot made its way onto the screen, I knew I’d seen that shot somewhere before. No twig and berries to speak of. All lady. A legitimate, ankles crossed kind of lady (said the immature and repentant mother who just made a “that’s what she said” joke).
The gender reveal is a funny deal. Everyone says they’re excited either way, which they are, but in their heart of hearts, I think most people pine for a certain gender. Even though I thought it was a boy, I was pining for a girl. I need our daughter, Harper, to have a sister. I know sisters. I love my sisters. Once I got over the shock of how dead wrong I and the old wives were, I called up my gaggle of sisters to share the verdict. There is nothing like loads of sisterly estrogen love to multiply our joyous news.
I have four sisters and two-step sisters. Sisters come with major perks. Sisters are for clothes borrowing, sympathetic tear shedding, synchronized menstruating, inside joke sharing, late night girl talking, choreographed dance routine making, nonstop drama inducing fun.
(Is this a good time to mention I have ONE brother? Wha-wha. Don’t give him your sympathy; he’s better for being raised by a pack of women. Also, he always got his own room so I’d say he came out a winner. I’m not bitter.)
Peoples’ reactions are entertaining to say the least. Numerous people asked, how sure were they that you’re having a girl? I don’t know how to respond to that question. Uh, I didn’t see a penis? Try again, Bekka. How would a dignified, mature health teacher respond? The labia majora was present? Let me just say, I know they didn’t get it wrong. We saw plenty of business to know her business. Modesty was not an option at this ultrasound.
And then everyone worries about the dad. How’s he handling it? Like it’s some sort of devastation. Listen, even though I’m pretty sure all men pine for a boy, a little lady is not a devastation. Sure, he’s going to have to hear the word period more than he’s ever wanted to in his life, (which would be never for clarification purposes), but girls and dads, they love each other. They need each other.
The dad in this case is doing just fine. Better than fine, he’s very excited. And he’s also the guilty party so any gender disappointment he may be harboring means he only has himself to blame.
And how’s the current main little lady in our life handling the news? She’s ecstatic that seeing her baby sister on the screen meant giant, pink, sprinkle covered donuts at the end of the appointment. If food can buy a person’s love, she’s over the moon about a sister. It hasn’t really solidified in her mind yet, but I’m still trying to hold back the tears when I think of the future hand holding, smooching, and exploits that will occur between my two little girls. I just hope those exploits don’t include sitting on her sister’s head to “welcome” her to the family. (The sister I just threw under the bus shall remain nameless, but you know who you are and you know what you did.)
I am thrilled, WE are thrilled it’s a girl. A part of me thinks we knew it all along because we dubbed her “sissy boo” before we knew she was a sissy boo. I can’t wait for this sweet, maybe a tad raucous if she takes after her mother, lady to enter our lives.
Is it February yet?
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