Monday, January 30, 2012

Brothers and Sisters

The thing about Facebook is that it can artificially inflate your self-confidence.   This surely is a totally stunning confession to you all, but I'm more than a bit snarky by nature.  I'm also raising a promising mini-snark, and the 2x snarky multiple in my house has provided me with ample raw material for Facebook fodder over the years.  I have a keen eye for the utterly ridiculous, which also has served me well.  A sharp eye plus a wicked pen--I'll admit that some days, that allows me to come up with some pretty witty and even some highly amusing crap.

What remains shocking to me is that some very kind-hearted people actually publicly admitted to liking my charming anecdotes, which typically involve a semi-profane musings from a 75% profane 3 year old.   Damn you, Facebook.  You made me believe that I was funny and witty and had some sort of uniquely entertaining worldview.

Here's the thing.  ANYBODY can be funny in 4 sentence clips posted at thrice-weekly intervals-- especially when you're surrounded by a highly entertaining supporting cast.   I know this now.  I'm not special.  Damn you, Facebook, for allowing me to be so self-indulgent as to believe that I was special.

I am so much cooler on Facebook than I am in real life.  Please all, let's take a moment and reflect on just how very pathetic that is.

How do I know this, you ask?  I know this because (DRUMROLL........) I mistakenly thought in a beer-and-Beyonce filled haze, that if I was funny on Facebook, I'd be even funnier in a blog.  Riiiiiiiiight.  It took less than 3 weeks for me to realize that I don't have all that much that is interesting to say, especially when I write in paragraphs as opposed to in phrases.  Maybe Twitter is my medium---I'd surely seem like a comedic genius when limited to 140 characters or less.

I've been radio silent for the better part of the last week because, frankly, I've had nothing particularly interesting to share.  Let's summarize my accomplishments of the last week:

1.  I went to work.  And then I went to work again.  And again.  And again.  I'm pretty sure I spent most of my time there acquiring new work and little time actually completing the work that I already had; thus, finishing the week behind where I started.  Again. 

2.  I made chocolate chip cookie dough (and subsequently burnt some cookies) with Little M.   We sang the "Mixing Song" while making the dough.  For those who are interested, the "Mixing Song" involves singing the word "mix" over and over again to the tune of "Jingle Bells."  I'm a thrill a minute, I tell you.

3.  I got really excited about my purchase of KABOOM! and how shiny it made all of the chrome in my sinks and tubs.  I'm still kind of excited about that, actually.  I heard about KABOOM! on either an informercial or a regular commercial late at night, and I will say, it performs as advertised.  I'm obsessive (shocker) about shiny chrome, and KABOOM! truly delivers.  KABOOM!

4. I got to spent time with my best friend, where I (a) turned myself into a wine bag, (b) got a hangover that was totally unsuitable for someone who answers to the name of "Mom" and (c) took a class called "Core Fusion" (while nursing my wine hangover) where I humiliated myself in a room full of highly fit people.  Allow me to elaborate- I'm in pretty decent shape for a middle-aged woman (thank you P90x and Insanity), but (as one of my trainers once told me), I'm about as flexible as your average senior citizen and (as my dad routinely informs me) as graceful as your average ruptured duck.  Core Fusion involves a ballet barre.  Imagine an interpretative dance performed by the spawn of the Loch Ness Monster and a river otter and you have the general idea.  

5.  Oh yeah, and I went grocery shopping.  With child.  On the weekend using one of those carts that have a car attached to the front of it.  Repeat after me- never.frigging.again.

So, now you know why you haven't heard from me.  Feel free to thank me now.

On the upside, I did get to spend time this weekend with both my brother....and my sister.  Good stuff.  The two of them remind me how fortunate I am to have a family that takes me in when I don't always deserve it, that puts up with my crap, and that loves me, without condition, when I am spectacularly imperfect.  Sometimes, biology makes a family. Sometimes, choice makes a family.  Always, love makes a family.  I'm a lucky girl.

My brother and I have the same mom and dad.  Depending on who you ask, my brother and I either look so much alike we could be twins or we look virtually nothing alike.  Depending on who you ask, my brother and I are so much alike, it's eerie or we are polar opposites.  In point of fact, my brother and I are flip sides of a coin---a little different, but totally complementary. Interdependent.  We are for each other.    We've both gone through life saying that we were 5 years apart in age --but we're actually less than 4 and a half years apart (we're not completely stupid- we were 5 years apart in school and were born in calendar years that are 5 years apart).   My brother was the "cute" one and I was the "smart" one, but somewhere along the way, we realized that my brother is crazy smart and I can be kind of cute in good lighting.  

My brother and I can fight (and have fought) like cats and dogs---but if anyone screws with my baby brother, I would knock their lights out first and ask questions later.  If not for growing up in the same house, my brother and I probably would not have been friends, partially due to the age difference and partially due to the fact that we're enough alike that we'd get on each other's nerves.  I'm so thankful for the shared DNA--there are a good number of times that my brother is the only one able to talk me off the ledge.  My brother's life has been far from easy--far more difficult than mine--but he's lived it anyway, and he's lived it with a grace and a tenacity I'm not sure I could muster.  I may be older, but I love looking up to my little brother.  There's no one on this planet who can press my buttons like my brother can, and no one who I'd rather share DNA with.  Go figure.  Baby Brother C- I don't tell you nearly enough, but I am so lucky and so proud to be your sister.

My sister and I have different parents and live in different states.  We share few physical features, unless you count us being the exact same height (midway between dwarf and average) and freakishly small fingers (how many adults can possibly have a size 4 ring finger?)  I'd say we were alike in all the ways that count, but that would be unfair to her and grossly inflating me.  We are, however, for each other.  

My sister is the most beautiful person I've ever met in real life...inside and out.  She's brave and outspoken and open-minded and listens with open ears and an open heart.  She does not judge (unless it's truly bad fashion, and it's always justified).  Like my biological brother, her life hasn't been easy, but she lived it anyway, and with grace and tenacity that I doubt I could muster (sound familiar?)  I was (obviously) alive when I met her, but my sister is the one who taught me to live...taught me to get a life.  She is my single greatest influence.   Little M has not been baptized in a church, but there was only one person that I'd want to be her (fairy) godmother.  My sister.  Sister J- I don't tell you nearly enough, but I am so lucky and proud to be your sister.  

Here's to my siblings- to the family I was lucky enough to be born into, and to the family that I was smart enough to choose.  Oneword. Love.

I'm a lucky girl,

Little Miss Sunshine

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