For Rachel

After celebrating 27 birthdays together, my twin and I have settled into a routine regarding birthday salutations and gifts. For example, around August 5th, we usually have the following conversation:

Me: So...what do you want for your birthday? *translation: It's in three days and because of my lack of money/imagination/time/sentimentality, I haven't purchased anything for you yet*
Rachel: Um, I don't know. What do you want? *translation: I can't think of what to get you, much less what I want.*
Me: I'll think of something. *translation: You think of something for me to get you and then I'll have an idea of what I want*
Rachel: Yeah. I'll think of something. *translation: I see what you're doing. YOU pick something first, THEN I'll pick something.*

At this point, the conversation usually meanders to other topics and the birthday present issue isn't addressed until the day of. When other family members/friends are handing in their gifts.

Me (looking up from a recently unwrapped present): Hey, I haven't bought yours yet. *translation: You never told me what you wanted. This happens every year.*
Rachel (pausing in unwrapping a gift): Yeah, I didn't get yours either. Yet. *translation: Well, you never told me either. It is just as much your birthday/responsibility as it is mine.*
Me and Rachel (in unison): Let's go to Target/Barnes and Noble/Borders/any close and inexpensive store and buy each other's presents tomorrow. *translation: Let's spend our own money on what we want and call it presents from each other.*

Happy Birthday Rachel Lucinda Randall. The best twin/sister/friend/accomplice in teasing Mom and Dad/co-babysitter for our 21 nieces and nephews/roommate/shopping partner/running inspiration/and birthday sharer anyone could have.

The "Newblett"

Before she is fed/or after someone puts her down/or if her favorite aunt j.g.r. has to leave/or when someone is holding her but SITTING down/or before she is fed again/or when she senses her mommy will put her down/or if her sisters aren't making her laugh/or if her daddy is working too hard/or if her brother isn't making her tiny tufts of hair into a faux hawk.....

we see this:

But after her tummy is full/or her sisters are by her side/or her brother is grabbing the crisco to style her hair/or her mother is holding her and resolving to never let her go, even if she has to weed, clean, paint, drive, and run/or her daddy is kicking back with some mt. dew/or her favorite aunt j.g.r. is walking through the door to pick her up.....

we see this:

                           

Lily of the Randall Field

*c'mon - we all knew that pun was coming*

Congratulations to my brother and siser-in-law, N. and H., for the (early) arrival of their girl. I think I know why she came so early. Her parents will love her. Her "siblings" will throw their white and hairy paws on the ground in worship of her. Her cousins up the lane will babysit. Her cousins all over the country are praying for her. Her grandparents will dote on her (and buy more presents than for their own little girls....cough cough). Her father will teach her the finer points of TV remote control handling. Her mother will instill upon her all her fashion and workplace wisdom.

Lily knows her family is forever. And she wanted to start as soon as possible.

Thirty Minute Pillow Fight

Ever had one for that long? With two boys, under the age of six? Who seemed to be pumped up on soda and sugar? And the knowledge they can overpower their helpless, caffeine deficient aunt?

*notice the Impact jujitsu shirt. some moves learned during class were incorporated into the pillow fight.*

And performing the role as referee, this princess graciously put down her milk bottle (when she knew I was not looking), and intervened. By pulling out all the Wii games of their cases. And the DVD's. And the advertisement inserts. The boys ran to protect their precious technological paraphernalia. The pillows (and my arms) got a break.

* Thank you. I owe you all the cheese crackers in the world.*

The only member in the audience was too worried where his master was to care who won the pillow fight. His long legs could have helped me throw the pillow. I could have ridden him away to safety. His bark would have provided me with a much needed battle cry. But nope. He sat. And watched. And worried.

"Psst. Angus. ANGUS" *poke poke* No response except a furrowed brow and a small whimper for A.R.

Number Twenty

My incredible older sister, E., gave birth to her fourth child this past week. FOUR. As in she has three other ones at home. Under the age of seven. Who have boundless energy - even at six a.m. Who can jump on the trampoline in fifty degree weather, with the threat of rain, for hours on end. Who can rewatch the same Taylor Swift video on YouTube over and over and over again.

And who I babysat for two days while E. brought another one into the world. And I absolutely cannot wait to watch her grow up. I love this new baby. I love her siblings. And I love my sister.

*Avery N. and me. Please focus on the former subject.*

Alles Gute zum Geburtstag

Congratulations on a wonderful childhood.

Congratulations on making it to the teenage years. 

Congratulations on keeping those older brothers in line.

Congratulations on being a great older sister to your younger siblings.

And congratulations on babysitting all my future children.....

I love you.

Happy Birthday A.

Bibliophiles

The other day, during my babysitting jaunt up in A., I witnessed the following dramatic scene between my niece and her younger brother:

Niece: Oh no!
Brother: Uh oh.
Niece (running over to her book with concern written all over her forehead): Where is it? Where is it?
Brother (looking confused): Uh oh.
Niece (carefully opening the book, scanning the pages): Um.....
Brother (now looking at his fee): Uh oh.

*Tense Moment*

Niece (shooting up her hand in a victory punch): YES! It is still here.
Brother: Um.
Niece (proudly producing a small, ratted piece of paper): My bookmark. I thought it had fallen out.
Brother (attention span now expired): Hey, let's play Wii.
Niece (looking frustrated, looks at me): Hey.
Me (addressing the whole room in my twelve-foot voice): What is the worst thing that could happen to a reader?
Niece, Nephew #1 and #2 (in unison): LOOSE YOUR BOOKMARK!
Me: Exactly.

I love that they read. I love that they read everything. Cereal boxes during breakfast, comics during lunch, and Harry Potter everywhere in between.

Except for "the brother". He's schooling me in the Wii. Still a win.