Amy, Joe, Ben, Stephanie, Jacob, Elizabeth, Yours Truly with horribly long hair, Andrew and Becca
This is a picture of the last time my siblings and I were all together, two years ago. It is also the ONLY picture where I am not giving somebody bunny ears.
We were all together for my brother Ben's high school graduation and to see my brother Joe off on his mission to Spain. Joe is coming home in May! It seems unreal that two years has already passed. This event and several others have got me thinking back to "the good old days" when the younger half of us were in diapers, and the older half of us were complaining that the smell of said diapers was severely cramping our social and dating life.
Steph and I are only 13 months apart. I'm just going to guess she wasn't exactly thrilled with someone stealing her baby thunder so early in life because we had a rough go at this sister thing until she moved out of the house and went to college. I know Mom, that's not entirely true...I do have some fantastic memories of choreographing dance routines to "I think we're alone now" by Tiffany and "Hangin' Tough" by none other than The New Kids on the Block (I heart Jordon), out on the railing of the back deck that we treated as a balance beam.In my adolescent mind, Steph was fearless. When she was only 8 years old, she decided she wanted her own bedroom...in the basement. We grew up in a two bedroom house with an unfinished basement. At some point along the way, my parents put down carpeting and hung curtains from the ceiling to separate the basement into "bedrooms," dormitory style. Steph, however, was the pioneer. She just had Dad throw a bed frame in the back corner and called it good. I remember that first night she slept down there all by herself. I snuck down to the landing on the stairs and peeked around the corner. Steph looked SO far away, tucked in the deepest, darkest corner. I knew without a doubt that she couldn't possibly be afraid of anything!
Elizabeth is two years younger than me. Growing up she was Liz, Lizzy or when we were mad at her, Lizard Breath. Her elementary school years were tainted by a bad 80's perm, that she loved. Never afraid to talk to anyone or tell you what was on her mind, she often spearheaded many neighborhood clubs and if I remember correctly a Newsletter. Somewhere, a single edition of "6th Street Dudes" is still circulating. One of my favorite memories of Elizabeth includes her sitting in the front yard in some body's stroller with a drawing pad and pencil in hand. She was facing the house, drawing the mailbox intently. When I asked her what she was doing, she burst into an original song, "You're disturbing my concentration. You're disturbing my concentraaaation. Stop! Turn around and go away, 'cause you're disturbing my concentraaaaaaaaation."
Putting those mad leadership skills to use, Elizabeth held student government offices all through elementary, junior high and high school. My only claim to fame on this one was that I got to help make her campaign posters. She babysat for a family who was very germ conscious (dare I say borderline OCD) and it rubbed off on her. For a while we compared Elizabeth to the little elephant on Tarzan http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJrEiWsI4f8 If she ate a carrot, or a bread stick, she would hold the very tip of it, eat down to where her fingers touched and then throw that part away.
Amy came two years after Elizabeth. Apparently I named her, and while I have no direct recollection of this event, I used it as bragging rights throughout my life. I do remember, however, stealing little beads of frosting from around the cake they used to give the mom in the hospital after she had a baby. My parents often refer to Amy as their "flower child" with her airy voice and free spirit. As a little red head getting ready for kindergarten, big sister Steph asked Mom if she could trim Amy's waist long hair. Mom said sure. Steph cut a half inch off the bottom, but it wasn't even; so off came another inch, half inch, three quarters of an inch, all the way up her back until Amy had a very even bob. That was the beginning of Amy's hair adventures. I wish I had access to pictures of the variety of styles and abominations that she sported over the years. (What? There is no other word for a rat tail. Admit it.)
Amy and I used to take "The Twinkie" our yellow, twelve passenger van to the grocery store, Hy-Vee. We would order an obscene amount of their delicious home made bread sticks and on the way out, we would reach up and switch "off" the automatic front doors so the next people who tried to go in or out would run into them. Classic. Sometimes we went to Wal-Mart with a handful of quarters and bought useless crap from the quarter machines in the front of the store. Driving home from the store, we would roll down our windows and throw them at cyclists.Andrew was the first boy child and for that very reason we all concluded that he MUST be Dad's favorite. I remember when my Mom called from the hospital to tell us it was a boy and his name was Andrew, I kept asking what his name was again because I had never heard that name before. So for whatever reason, he landed the nick name Bug, and when we were feeling exceptionally silly, Bug-a-Rooster. With four older sisters, Andrew was never found wanting for attention. At age three my Mom brought him into the family doctor because the kid had never uttered a word in his life. The Doctor, knowing our family well, reassured her that there was nothing wrong with Andrew, he simply had no need to speak when he was doted on so heavily. Good news, the Doctor was right.
Andrew was all boy. If my facts are correct, he started eating baby food at two months old because he was always hungry. My Mom said she knew Andrew had male programming when one morning at breakfast he ate one corner off his piece of toast, picked it up and started using it as a gun, sound effects included. We picked on Andrew relentlessly. Often I would sit on his stomach and knuckle his shins until they bruised...because I could. One time I was unloading the dishwasher and Andrew kept running by and hitting me. So the next time he ran by, I pulled a plate out of the dishwasher and held it in front of his head as he ran by. Andrew cracked it in half with his face.
By the time Becca was born either my parents actually needed help coming up with names, or more likely they wanted to appease our endless desires to have a say in everything. My Dad gave each of us a 3x5 note card to write down our baby name suggestions. I desperately wanted to name her Dotty, after Pee Wee Herman's girlfriend. I was devastated when my parents wouldn't even seriously consider it. Becca was my first sibling to also have brown hair. She's kind of my mini-me. In fact, the other day she was showing her son pictures of me and he thought they were his mom. We are also very similar in personality, although I would venture to say Becca has more of a natural "stick-to-itivness" than I have. She was born with the determined personality that makes being a child very difficult, but pretty much guarantees your success as an adult. I remember on many, MANY occasions Becca throwing a fit if she didn't get her way. These were no ordinary fits. They would last for hours. On the other hand, she was quite the little joker. Even before she could speak very well, Becca liked to pretend she was asleep and fake snore. I am pleased to say this is a genetic trait that she has passed on to her son!
Joe spent the first several years of his life looking like the kid on "So I married an Axe Murderer" with a gigantic head http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJ8Rc98Xs20. Except instead of a fro, he had a bad 90's bowl cut. When Joe and Ben were probably four and three, we would put snow mittens on them and set up a boxing ring in the living room. We would send them after each other, cheering them on until someone started crying.
One year for homecoming, I invited my date and group of friends over for dinner. My mom made pizza while Joe and Ben were our servers. They dressed in their little suits and ties, put a towel over their arms and took orders, handed out napkins and charmed all the ladies. They also provided the entertainment when they showed off their "moth collection." Joe and Ben pulled back the curtain to reveal the moths they had trapped, killed and taped to the back sliding glass door.
Joe has always had a tender heart. I moved out to Idaho for college just before his 8th birthday. He really, really wanted me to come back for his baptism. I searched plane and train and bus tickets, but there was no way I could afford it. I called to tell him it just wasn't going to work out and Joe offered to send me the $50 he had received in his birthday cards.
Ben was born with a tongue too big for his mouth. The kid was always saturated with drool. His shirts would be wet down to his belly button because let's be honest, if you can't close your mouth and swallow, you don't have many options.
When I was a Senior in high school, Ben was in Kindergarten. At the end of the school year I stole an old math book from my classroom and brought it home for the sole purpose of burning it. My parents humored me and sent me out back with a book of matches. Ben was right by my side! My most favorite picture is of the math book open, I'm holding a match and Ben has a gigantic grin on his face holding a can of hairspray!
Often when I was at college, Ben would send me typed letters. The general format always included a brief recounting of his life experiences (two sentences), questions teasing me about a boyfriend (two more sentences), and then about thirty lines of random letters, signs and smiley faces. :)
Jacob learned to ride a two wheeler when he was three years old. We had a little red bike that most likely had training wheels at one time, but Jacob didn't need them. The kid was fearless. Our driveway was fairly steep and Jacob would start at the top and ride full speed down to the street like a mad man.
Jacob was only 4 when I moved out so most of my interactions with him happened when I would come home to visit. On one of those visits, I was giving all the boys a haircut and Jacob announced that he wanted to give himself a bowl cut. My mother humored him. Jacob literally put a bowl on his head, took a pair of scissors and started cutting his hair around it. He was so thrilled with himself, until he looked in the mirror. Then he saw the uneven top part and the bald spots around the bottom.
Because his brothers took piano lessons, Jacob did as well. When he wanted to quit my Mom would always say, "That's fine, but you have to tell the teacher yourself." Jacob never quit.
People often ask me if I liked being one of nine kids. The answer is always yes.
People often ask me if I want to have nine kids. The answer is always no.
I don't know how my parents did it, but I'm glad they did.
I love my family.
