Monday Memories: My Siblings

I'm a few weeks behind in the Monday Memories posts- but I won't lump too many into single posts. Instead, I'll just start with the siblings and beg forgiveness.

This is a re-post from a while back since I have already written about my siblings.

While growing up, I found that there are advantages to being an only child.  This is especially true when there is doting to be carried out because you are the only receiver of said doting. And, for the first twelve years of my life I was doted on to the point of embarrassment. Of course, there are down sides. The obvious one being if someone broke the lamp, forgot to feed or water the dog or didn't take out the trash, there was very little detective work needed to identify the guilty party. There is also the loneliness of being an only child. When it's raining outside and everyone is stuck inside, you are stuck inside alone. Well, your parents might be around but what fun are they? Mine weren't really the type to be playing with their kid. (I am a much cooler parents than mine were..shhhh.) My dad's only sister lived just across the street and down a couple of houses from us and she had four children- two girls and two boys. The third child in my aunt's brood was my cousin Diane and there was but a mere six months difference in our ages and we played all the time. I loved to go over to their house or have Diane over playing at my house. When we all got together we would play football or softball; hide and seek or freeze tag; all the fun, active outside greatest games of all time! They had a big family and it was FUN! But, when the weather was bad or it was time to go inside for the evening, they got to go in together. I had to go home alone. I was always so jealous of my cousins and their big family.  Oh and, adding insult to injury, at lunch time during the summer? They got to have Kool-Aid. Oh yeah. Even my best friend during those years (CM) had three younger brothers. I thought that I was, perhaps, the only girl in America without siblings. But, in the fall of 1970, all of that changed.

My parents had considered adopting a boy-- a brother for me, a son for themselves. We had been through the countless interviews with DSS and, finally, our caseworker called and to tell my parents they had a boy for them to adopt. I went to stay with CM while the parents went to meet the boy. CM and I spent a good portion of that afternoon discussing brothers. All I really knew was how to be a spoiled only child. A role I not only took seriously, but also portrayed quite well (let's be honest- I relished it). Even so, I was, actually, very excited that there would be someone around to spend time with when the other kids weren’t around. Late that afternoon, my parents called to say they were on their way with my brothers. Wait. What? BrotherS?  I couldn't believe their words. They were bringing home THREE brothers instead of one. We had grown from a family of three to a family of six in only one afternoon.  

My brothers were three actual, biological brothers, ages 9, 10, and 11, in need of a home and our parents decided that we could give them just that. Surprisingly, there didn’t seem to be much of an adjustment period…or maybe I just don’t remember. I do remember that I went right up to each of them on that very first day and gave them great big hugs and it was like they had always been with me.  When I look back on my childhood, I can remember things I did before the boys came to live with us, but only spurts here and there and most of those precious memories involve my wonderful grandparents. However, I have tons of memories with my brothers.  TONS! And they are good memories. When the neighborhood kids got together to play, my brothers and I joined in the fun. And, when it was time to go home? My brothers and I went home together. If something was broken, or forgot to feed or water the dog, or a chore remained undone—the parents had to play the guessing game or interrogate all four of us! Rainy days? No problem. We played inside! Together.  

Oh, and that thing about being a spoiled only child? The only thing that changed there was my only child status. My brothers swooped in and made the spoiled trait of mine worse than ever! And protective? Oh yes! I never had to worry about anybody doing anything to me EVER. By the same token, I was extremely protective of them as well. I never cared what anyone said or did to me but, if they messed with one of my brothers? Jump back Jack! We had our fair share of fights disagreements but nothing that ever lasted very long. Mostly, we just had a great time being a family.   

Through the years we’ve all gone in different directions…traveled our own paths. One brother is still trying to find his place in this world though he never fails to keep in constant touch with us. He’s the baby of the family but still calls me ‘baby girl.’ One is so busy being resentful of everything and everybody for whatever he decides they are guilty of that he keeps his distance—trust me, he’s really happiest when he can host pity parties and, from him, we have learned that misery does NOT love company. One followed his path via the Navy but lives close now. He is still the one who tries to take care of all of us. He’s the one who took our parents aside on that first day and told them that he would be fine but would they please take his little brothers (OMG, that is SO him—always thinking of everyone else). He’s also the one who keeps us all laughing all the time.

Am I still a spoiled princess? I've really outgrown it. Except where my brothers are concerned. They still treat me that way. And I'm ok with that.  

Monday Memories: My Family

Hey, y'all! Monday may bring us back to work, but it also brings us one of my favorite memes and it's all about sharing memories! Y'all know how much I appreciate memories so you can imagine how excited I was to hear of a meme all about writing our memories! I, of course, missed the first one but I'm just going to combine the first and second memories together in this post.

Want to join in? Just click the button and link up to Memory Monday at Retired, Not Tired!

This week's prompt is: My Family

This is straight from a post I wrote a year or so ago but it is perfect for this week's prompt. So, I'm going to go ahead and use it.

Our first picture together.

While growing up, I found that there are advantages to being an only child.  This is especially true when there is doting to be carried out because you are the only receiver of said doting.  And, for the first twelve years of my life I was doted on to the point of embarrassment.  Of course, there are down sides.  The obvious one being if someone broke the lamp, forgot to feed or water the dog or didn't take out the trash, there was very little detective work needed to identify the guilty party.  There is also the loneliness of being an only child.  When it's raining outside and everyone is stuck inside, you are stuck inside alone.  Well, your parents might be around but what fun are they?  Mine weren't really the type to be playing with their kid.  (Hubs and I are much cooler parents than ours were..shhhh.) My dad's only sister lived just across the street and down a couple of houses from us and she had four children- two girls and two boys.  The third child in my aunt's brood was my cousin Diane and there was but a mere six months difference in our ages and we played all the time.  I loved to go over to their house or have Diane over playing at my house.  When we all got together we would play football or softball; hide and seek or freeze tag; all the fun, active outside greatest games of all time!  They had a big family and it was FUN!  But, when the weather was bad or it was time to go inside for the evening, they got to go in together.  I had to go home alone.  I was always so jealous of my cousins and their big family.  Oh and, adding insult to injury, at lunch time during the summer?  They got to have Kool-Aid.  Oh yeah.  Even my best friend during those years (CM) had three younger brothers.  I thought that I was, perhaps, the only girl in America without siblings.  But, in the fall of 1970, all of that changed.

My parents had considered adopting a boy-- a brother for me, a son for themselves.  We had been through the countless interviews with DSS and, finally, our caseworker called and to tell my parents they had a boy for them to adopt.  I went to stay with CM while the parents went to meet the boy.  CM and I spent a good portion of that afternoon discussing brothers.  All I really knew was how to be a spoiled only child.  A role I not only took seriously, but also portrayed quite well (let's be honest- I relished it).  Even so, I was, actually, very excited that there would be someone around to spend time with when the other kids weren’t around.   Late that afternoon, my parents called to say they were on their way with my brothers.  Wait. What?  BrotherS?  I couldn't believe their words.  They were bringing home THREE brothers instead of one.  We had grown from a family of three to a family of six in only one afternoon.  

Our first Christmas together

My brothers were three actual, biological brothers, ages 9, 10, and 11, in need of a home and our parents decided that we could give them just that.  Surprisingly, there didn't seem to be much of an adjustment period…or maybe I just don’t remember.  I do remember that I went right up to each of them on that very first day and gave them great big hugs and it was like they had always been with me.  When I look back on my childhood, I can remember things I did before the boys came to live with us, but only spurts here and there and most of those memories involve my grandparents.  However, I have tons of memories with my brothers.  TONS!  And they are good memories.  When the neighborhood kids got together to play, my brothers and I joined in the fun. And, when it was time to go home?  My brothers and I went home together.  If something was broken, or forgot to feed or water the dog, or a chore remained undone—the parents had to play the guessing game or interrogate all four of us!  Rainy days?  No problem. We played inside! Together.  

Oh, and that thing about being a spoiled only child?  The only thing that changed there was my only child status.  My brothers swooped in and made the spoiled trait of mine worse than ever!  And protective?  Oh yes!  I never had to worry about anybody doing anything to me EVER.  By the same token, I was extremely protective of them as well.  I never cared what anyone said or did to me but, if they messed with one of my brothers?  Jump back Jack!  We had our fair share of  fights  disagreements but nothing that ever lasted very long. Mostly, we just had a great time being a family.   

Brotherly Lessons

I've learned quite a few lessons from my oldest brother over the years. I'm not even sure he knows what a teacher he is.

When we were growing up, he taught me that, while he would chase me with a frog or other disgusting type creature, he would beat the crap out of anyone else who tried to chase me with one.

When I was just beginning high school, he taught me how to defend myself. I accidentally practiced on him. He went down really fast. Oops.

He taught me that he would protect me and my brothers when our parents were out from the man outside the window. Even though the man outside the window was only my brother's reflection.

He taught me how to push everyone out of the way and run past them to get away from a haunted house.

He taught me I should have behaved myself much more than I did in college because those stories would come back to haunt me. Via him.

He also taught me that no matter what hand life deals you, you keep your head up and stay positive.

He taught me that putting others first is never a bad idea.

He taught me to make good, positive memories and to try to live so as not to have regrets.

He taught me to get out there and live life instead of letting life pass me by. 

My brother and I have shared thousands of memories over the years. Most of them are filled with happiness and laughter. All of them are filled with love.

Do you have any brothers? Are yours crazy too? 

Complimentary List

It's Monday and time to join Stasha over at The Good Life for Monday Listicles! Each week Stasha gives us a theme for our lists. This week, we have the 10 COMPLIMENTS theme. All you have to do to join the fun is click on the link or the button!

10 COMPLIMENTS

1. Kindergarten teachers. Good lord but they have a hard, exhausting job. They are on their feet all day long and have to listen to crying and whining and tattling and, if they do get a half a second to sit down, they have to do it in a chair made for really short people. They have to tie shoes and zip/unzip book bags and say the same things over and over and over and over again and again and again and again. They have to open small bags of chips and milk cartons and juice boxes. They have to endure snotty noses being wiped on them and coughs and sneezes right in their faces. And they do it all day long in the midst of teaching the little darlings how to say their letters and count and be respectful and be a friend. At the very least they deserve to be commended every single day.
2. Maintenance workers. I don't care where you work/shop/whatever, if you don't appreciate the job these people do, you are completely out of line. These are the people who keep things from falling apart completely. They keep things running. They put their hands in places we would never even consider putting ours. They fix things that break so that we aren't inconvenienced--at least not for long. They build things, paint things, put things together. And they do it all without receiving any appreciation and very little pay. 
3. Besties. There's nothing quite like a best friend. These folks stick with us through thick and thin. They love us when other people don't. They're better than family because they stick around because they want to, not because they have to. They aren't afraid to correct us when we're wrong, they cry with us when we're hurt, they cheer us up when we're sad, they take phone calls from us at ungodly hours, they laugh at our jokes. When we're in a really bad mood and yell at them, they just wait it out and forgive us without being asked. They make us feel like we are the smartest, wisest, prettiest, best at everything we do and they never ask anything in return. 
4. Grandparents. Grandparents are the absolute BEST. In our grandparents eyes, we can do no wrong. And, even if we do, they love us anyway. They do things for us that our parents won't, they laugh at our silly jokes, they are sure that we are the best kids in the world EVER. They take us anywhere we want to go, they make the best food in the world and they are always smiling. They love unconditionally from the moment we take our first breath until the day they are no longer with us. Though I believe they are still loving us from Heaven.
5. Daughters. I always wanted daughters, even when I was a kid. And I got 4 of them. And they are the BEST. Daughters are fun and funny. They are smart and energetic and a pure delight to be around no matter what phase they're going through. They are talented and skilled and they know how to have fun. They aren't afraid of showing their love for us or their disdain--they are honest. A smile from them can lift the weight of the world from your shoulders and melt your heart like hot butter. A frown from them can break your heart. Their laughter is contagious and the pride they bring you is insurmountable. Daughters are perfectly wonderful.
6. Brothers. Brothers can get on your last nerve and then, turn right around and have you laughing so hard you nearly wet yourself. They are your protectors even when you don't want them to because you're in high school and the people they're protecting you from are your dates. They take your future husband for a walk and let him know that if he ever hurts you, they will have to answer your brother. And it won't be pretty. They treat you like a princess from day one and teach you self-defense. They give the best hugs and never let you down. 
7. Computer geeks. Call them what you will, I love them. And I have a favorite. He's Birdie's boytoy, Evwardo. He is so computer savvy you wouldn't believe it. And he always comes to my rescue with a computer issue. As a matter of fact, he's there for all of us when we have a computer issue. More importantly, he's there for Birdie. He's got her back and thinks she's the greatest. He's a keeper. (Ok, that one got a bit off topic).
8. Sons-in-law. I only have one right now and he's a gem. A true gem. SILs take care of our daughters and appreciate them and love them. They put up with our daughters' quirks and moods. They do all they can to make our daughters happy. They support and encourage our daughters dreams and goals. They show our daughters compassion and loyalty and love. Or, at least, ours does. :)
9. Musicians. These people could be complimented on their talent alone. But there's so much more than talent here. Musicians have the ability to calm an angry soul, pick me up when I'm down, motivate the intensity of my workouts. It can bring me joy, fun, peace and even stimulate romance. Nothing brings me out of a bad or sad mood quicker than music. Nothing can move me quite like music can. There are so many different genres to choose from and there's always something that does just what I need it to do. And music, unlike people, will never let me down.
10. Pets. In my case, dogs. A dog is just the greatest. They love us unconditionally even when we're being total jerks. They let us know they love us even when we think no one else does. They celebrate our happiness with us and snuggle with us at night. They wait patiently for a pat or a treat or just a bit of love. They look so darn cute when they stand there with that squeaky ball in their mouth with those big brown eyes asking you to please play with them. They aim to please and, in a relationship where we have the best deal, they don't seem to mind.      

Enjoy your Monday! You might as well, it's here whether you want it to be or not. :)

H is for Haunted House

When I was growing up our family took the usual annual vacation to either the beach or the mountains.  But we also got to go camping sometimes just for the weekend.  These camping trips were so much fun!  We would go to the mountains and just have a nice relaxing weekend of camping.  One weekend we went to a campground in a town where friends of our parents lived.  It was only an hour or two away and one other family, the Cauthens and their 3 boys, came with us with their camper.  My parents friends had one son and a daughter much younger than any of us.  Basically, it was going to be a weekend of boys what with my three brothers as well.  But this wasn’t a terrible thing as I was a tomboy.  When we got to the campground it was practically deserted --as it was the off season—with only 3 campers in the whole place.  Not a problem since there were plenty of us to have fun and go exploring.  Once we were set up, our freaking hilarious wonderfully enlightening parents began spinning a tale of a haunted house on the campground road.  Of course, being kids, we were completely enthralled with the story and insisted that we go and take a look.  Funny that no one remembers the story now. But we all remember visiting the house.

Once we hit just the right spot in the dirt road, we saw the old house looming ahead on the left.  There has never been a better haunted looking house in a Hollywood movie.  This place was two stories high with a widow’s walk on top.  The siding was old and gray looking with some slats hanging down at an angle from the rusty old nails that could no longer hold them in place.  There were steps leading up to a porch that spanned the front of the house.  Several of the boards curved up at the edge of the steps and the porch and there were holes where the wood had given up and rotted away.  There was a porch swing hanging at one end of the porch and it creaked, just a little, in the breeze.  Most of the windows had been broken, leaving half panes of jagged glass and, those that were intact, were covered in a film of dust and age.  Through the windows, we could see old, tattered curtains hanging limp.  The walkway leading up to the wide steps was no longer level and was cracked in places with weeds growing up through them.  The front yard was overgrown with weeds and dead bushes and was surrounded by an old, gray picket fence that swayed in places and had more leaning slats than straight up and down ones.  To enter the walkway leading to the house, we had to pick the gate, that was hanging by only one rusted hinge, up and place it to one side.  Several old trees that had already shed most of their leaves were on either side of the house reaching out with their spindly arms.  It was coming on dusk; there was a slight breeze; and not a sound was heard other than the ever so slight creaking of the porch swing and the occasional rustling of dead leaves.

There were seven of us kids altogether and we decided that perhaps going up to the door and going inside that house was not the best idea we’d ever had.  We discussed this in quiet whispers all the while keeping our eyes sharply focused on the house.  Finally, my brave brother, Tony, said- in his best 11-year-old manly voice, “I’m not scared.  I’ll go in.”  The rest of us stood statue still in a bit of shock at hearing his words and Tony had an expression on his face that clearly indicated he, too, was wondering who the hell said that.  Mere seconds passed as my courageous brother realized that it was indeed his voice and that now, because of his big fat mouth impulsive bravery, he was going to have to go into the haunted house.  His steps were shaky and slow as he proceeded up the worn path to the first step.  He slowly and carefully placed one foot up on the step and looked back.  We were all still standing there with wide eyes and opened mouths.  Tony walked up each step with uncertainty and paused to look back again when he stood, nervously, on the porch.  We had not moved a muscle.  Tony took small, careful, baby steps all the way to the front door and stopped.  He gingerly reached out his hand to open the old door.  At that very moment that insignificant breeze that had caused only slight movement of the porch swing and a gentle (albeit creepy) rustling of the leaves became a wind.  And that wind was strong enough to blow the curtain hanging at the broken windows. that ran vertically beside the front door, out just far enough to brush my brother’s arm.  

My fearless brother

To this day I do not think that my fearless brother’s feet touched any part of that house or the earth as he spun around and took off!  He was beside us and then past us within a millisecond and there was dust behind him as he flew down the dirt road.  The expression on his face illustrated scared shitless terrified quite well with the eyes bugging out and the extreme paleness of his color.  As soon as we realized what had happened (and it took a few seconds), we laughed hysterically- half from my brother’s reaction to the curtain and half from sheer relief.  Of course we had to go off after him because he was running in the opposite direction of our campsites.  Along the way we met our parents’ friends who were driving out to visit- complete with Tony on the hood of their car.      

This is the 8th day of the A-Z Blog Challenge for the month of April.  I decided to try this challenge in the hopes of keeping some momentum going; getting my brain to stay warmed-up; and trytrytry to improve my writing--well, really, to find my voice.  Just click the badge on my sidebar to join in the challenge! 

    

Brothers

While growing up, I found that there are advantages to being an only child.  This is especially true when there is doting to be carried out because you are the only receiver of said doting.  And, for the first twelve years of my life I was doted on to the point of embarrassment.  Of course, there are down sides.  The obvious one being if someone broke the lamp, forgot to feed or water the dog or didn't take out the trash, there was very little detective work needed to identify the guilty party.  There is also the loneliness of being an only child.  When it's raining outside and everyone is stuck inside, you are stuck inside alone.  Well, your parents might be around but what fun are they?  Mine weren't really the type to be playing with their kid.  (Hubs and I are much cooler parents than ours were..shhhh.) My dad's only sister lived just across the street and down a couple of houses from us and she had four children- two girls and two boys.  The third child in my aunt's brood was my cousin Diane and there was but a mere six months difference in our ages and we played all the time.  I loved to go over to their house or have Diane over playing at my house.  When we all got together we would play football or softball; hide and seek or freeze tag; all the fun, active outside greatest games of all time!  They had a big family and it was FUN!  But, when the weather was bad or it was time to go inside for the evening, they got to go in together.  I had to go home alone.  I was always so jealous of my cousins and their big family.  Oh and, adding insult to injury, at lunch time during the summer?  They got to have Kool-Aid.  Oh yeah.  Even my best friend during those years (CM) had three younger brothers.  I thought that I was, perhaps, the only girl in America without siblings.  But, in the fall of 1970, all of that changed.

My parents had considered adopting a boy-- a brother for me, a son for themselves.  We had been through the countless interviews with DSS and, finally, our caseworker called and to tell my parents they had a boy for them to adopt.  I went to stay with CM while the parents went to meet the boy.  CM and I spent a good portion of that afternoon discussing brothers.  All I really knew was how to be a spoiled only child.  A role I not only took seriously, but also portrayed quite well (let's be honest- I relished it).  Even so, I was, actually, very excited that there would be someone around to spend time with when the other kids weren’t around.   Late that afternoon, my parents called to say they were on their way with my brothers.  Wait. What?  BrotherS?  I couldn't believe their words.  They were bringing home THREE brothers instead of one.  We had grown from a family of three to a family of six in only one afternoon.  

My brothers were three actual, biological brothers, ages 9, 10, and 11, in need of a home and our parents decided that we could give them just that.  Surprisingly, there didn’t seem to be much of an adjustment period…or maybe I just don’t remember.  I do remember that I went right up to each of them on that very first day and gave them great big hugs and it was like they had always been with me.  When I look back on my childhood, I can remember things I did before the boys came to live with us, but only spurts here and there and most of those memories involve my grandparents.  However, I have tons of memories with my brothers.  TONS!  And they are good memories.  When the neighborhood kids got together to play, my brothers and I joined in the fun. And, when it was time to go home?  My brothers and I went home together.  If something was broken, or forgot to feed or water the dog, or a chore remained undone—the parents had to play the guessing game or interrogate all four of us!  Rainy days?  No problem.  We played inside!  Together.  

Oh, and that thing about being a spoiled only child?  The only thing that changed there was my only child status.  My brothers swooped in and made the spoiled trait of mine worse than ever!  And protective?  Oh yes!  I never had to worry about anybody doing anything to me EVER.  By the same token, I was extremely protective of them as well.  I never cared what anyone said or did to me but, if they messed with one of my brothers?  Jump back Jack!  We had our fair share of fights disagreements but nothing that ever lasted very long.  Mostly, we just had a great time being a family.   

Through the years we’ve all gone in different directions…traveled our own paths.  One brother is still trying to find his place in this world though he never fails to keep in constant touch with us.  He’s the baby of the family but still calls me ‘baby girl.’  One is so busy being resentful of everything and everybody for whatever he decides they are guilty of that he keeps his distance—trust me, he’s really happiest when he can host pity parties and, from him, we have learned that misery does NOT love company.  One followed his path via the Navy but lives close now. He is still the one who tries to take care of all of us.  He’s the one who took our parents aside on that first day and told them that he would be fine but would they please take his little brothers (OMG, that is SO him—always thinking of everyone else).  He’s also the one who, when he found out Hubs and I were going to get married, took Hubs aside and gave him fair warning as to what would happen ‘if you ever hurt my sister.’  That protective mode?  Apparently, it NEVER ends.  But that’s just fine with me.