Memory Recall Time!

If you read my blog the other day about Mother's, er, excitement at the bank, you know she can be prone to getting a little upset.

This memory keeps bumping around in my brain, so I figured, eh, hey, why not just go ahead and share. That's what blogging is all about, right?

Anyway, when Brothers were around age seven, Mother and Daddy were picking them up from school early one day for a dentist appointment.

They were parked across the street from the elementary school, waiting on my brothers to come out of the school.

In a moment, my daddy told me on the telephone that night (I was living away at the time), my brothers came out of the school. Suddenly, another little boy came out right behind them. He was a very big "little" boy, a head taller and  many pounds heavier than my brothers.  (He grew up to be a very big man, in prison now for murder. But this is now and that was then.)

The bigger boy walked up behind Brothers and shoved them both in the back, knocking their books out of their arms.

Daddy said he turned to say something to Mother about it, to find she was  no longer in the car. He then turned his head to the left, and there dear old Mom was, slappin' that boy up a side a da head.

What a family!

I was laughing so hard at the tale I could hardly breathe. Mother came on the line, hysterically crying. "I've hit another person's child! How could I have done that?"

Laughter. Me, Daddy.

"This is NOT funny! I've done a terrible thing!"

Laughter - me, Daddy.

Ahhh, good times.

At any rate, she called and apologized to the boy's parents. They weren't too happy, but they did accept her apology.

I think this story embarrasses my brother's to this day.

Mother, too.

Not me, buddy.

Not me.

Brotherly Love

I just got back from visiting Brother of Many Surgeries. (This is his Indian  name now.)

He looks like a one track railroad from stern to down below where he wouldn't let me see. Let's just say they cut him as fer as they could cut.

The staples are starting to pull at his skin, the drain holes are pulling at his skin. He is very uncomfortable.

Plus he is having wild body temperature changes, one minute burning up, the next freezing.

Do you suppose they took so much out this time he is in  menopause? 

Nah.

I am being silly because I am tired of being afraid.

Afraid that this time, he might not make it.

But he did, and I hope fervently it is the last surgery he ever has to have. I hope he can live many years and be healthy, finally.

I am so confident I made a batch of spaghetti and took it to them for supper.

If my cookin' don't kill him, nothin' will.

She has Personality!

There is a lot written on how children form their personalities. Only children, oldest child, middle child, the BABY.

My personality is that of an only child. Even though I am not. An only child, that is.

However; for the first decade of my life, an only child is what I was, and in many ways still am.

In the span of ten minutes, forty-eight years ago today, I became a big sister. Twice. Both boys.

There was an incredible amount of excitement at our house! First off, my mother did not think she could get pregnant again (hahahahahahaha). Secondly, twins were in no way expected from this expecting. (hahahahahaha).

But these fellows were more like my live baby dolls, then my own babies, as my mother worked full time after they turned a year old. And guess who helped raised them? Yes, that would be yours truly.

So, in many ways, I am their second mother as much as I am their sister.

And that's okay by me.

Happy birthday, brothers of mine.