When it came time for the big reveal, my sister's hair looked exactly the same as it always did. I, on the other hand, got a delightful beehive:
My sister is quick to cite this event as the start of our sibling rivalry. After all, I wanted the blue dress (it was frilly), and she wanted the glamorous up-do. She denies it now ("you looked like a Golden Girl!"), but I remember the look of disappointment in her eyes when she saw herself in the mirror and found no exciting transformation or change.
Megan and I could not be more different. I was always the rule-follower who stayed home Saturday nights to do homework. Megan spent her Saturdays joyriding in downtown Chicago on a learner's permit.
My house is always full of clutter and stuff, while Megan's house resembles a model home. When I went looking for a spoon in one of her kitchen drawers recently, I found 3 EMPTY drawers. Who has empty kitchen drawers? Her closets all contain wood hangers with items perfectly placed exactly an inch apart to avoid wrinkling.
I sometimes wonder if she's a robot.
Still, we do share a ridiculous love of all things vintage Fisher Price. Call it nostalgia. Call it an attempt to re-live our youths. Call it an obsession. But when Megan lost her husband late last year, I dug around to find the only thing I could think of that might get her to smile: the new Fisher Price clock ornament I had purchased with my 30% off coupon at Kohls.
That was November. I try to call my sister more than I do, but I know I get distracted with the kids and all their issues. This past week has been a little more stressful than usual. My 7 year old and I have been going the rounds on "attitude." Joey refused to sit down with me to learn his Dick & Jane books. Two of the kids are on antibiotics with bronchial infections and I spent the other night at the Emergency Room until 2:30 am convinced that Jack was having an attack of appendicitis. Joe has not been home much because of his crazy work schedule. So I get stressed, eat Girl Scout Cookies, and toss and turn all night.
Then out of nowhere, as if by magic, a package from my sister arrived in my mailbox:
I was so excited that I couldn't wait 9 months to display this new sparkly ornament that filled my soul with so much joy. So, I improvised:
|Happy St. Patrick's Day!|
It was just the thing to remind me that all my stress right now is pretty stupid, and I really need to lighten up.
I'm even considering rockin' the beehive again next week. Hopefully, my mom and 91 year old Nana are available for a repeat.
Let me know if you want to come over for another go-around, Meg. And thank you!