Sorry I haven’t written over the past few days. A few times I sat down to write, but just didn’t really have much interesting to say.
Monday night – I wasn’t feeling very well and ended up going to bed fairly early.
Tuesday night – Kelsey came over and we scrapbooked (I started working on my Alberta/BC book from our trip in September).
Wednesday night – I went to dinner with my parents and then to a jewelry party with my mom. We ate some goodies and I got to see some people that I have not seen in a while. We had a good time and shared some laughs. I also got to see the horses – well see isn’t exactly the right word since it was pitch black, but I did get to pet them! I miss horse back riding so much – but there are very few places that offer it anymore, and it’s so expensive! And for that money all you get to do is walk a trail – which is fine but I want to trot and run with them, not just walk a trail for an hour.
Today I am going to share a little bit about my sister – Tara. Tara is 21 years old. Exactly 2 years 6 months and 6 days younger than I am. That is the equivalent to: 920 days, or 79,488,000 seconds, or 1,324,800 minutes or 22,080 hours or 131 weeks (rounded down). *Note I used a website to figure this out, I did not do all of that math.
Anyways, back to Tara. It’s a true story that I still remember the day she was born (even though I was only 2 ½ years old). Okay well I remember one part of it. I remember going to see her at the hospital where she was born. I was standing at the fence and looked at the hospital as I was told that my brand new little sister was in that building – it was from that moment that I hated her. Okay well maybe hate is a strong word – and keep reading because the story gets better.
I was am an attention hog. I like to be in the spot light and clearly life is all about me all the time. For those of you who really know me, know that is not far from the truth. So here was this little baby that was taking away the attention from me.
Let it be made known that my sister did not have an easy time growing up with me being older. I was bossy and controlling and I was ALWAYS right. I knew the way things should be done and if she wasn’t doing them right she knew about it (and so did my parents). Saying I was a tattle tale is an under estimate. I started babysitting Tara for short periods of time when I was fairly young (10-11 years old). I would watch her for 20 or 30 minutes here and there and that time grew a bit longer as I got older. I loved having the control and “being the boss”. My parents had to remind me quite often that in fact is was them that was in charge and I was not to be telling her what to do. She was always so quite, you never heard a peep from her, but let’s be honest and just put it out there…I never gave her a chance to talk because I never shut up!
Looking back I feel really bad for my parents and I hope that I never have to go through what they did with us. We fought like cats and dogs growing up. Tara was good in school, and pretty much everything she did. We did have some times where we got along and played well together, but they were few and farther between than the fighting. I have so many stories that keep popping in my head and I don’t know where to start and what to share.
We used to go places with our Nanny and Papa – on long drives and such. To keep our selves entertained we were very silly (and were probably more than they wanted to handle). I remember Tara and I in the back seat just giggling uncontrollably and my Papa saying “I need a screw driver, your giggling pins have come loose!” which of course would only make us giggle more.
I think one of the biggest beefs I had with Tara all growing up (and even still *a little*) was the fact that she “stole” my soccer number. Ever since my first year playing soccer I was ALWAYS number 12 and she was number 6. Then one year she was number 12 and that was not okay with me. Oh was my nose ever out of joint. That was MY number and she TOOK it. Still to this day on her soccer team she is number 12 - and it is both of our favourite number. *Scowl*.
Anyways, as we got older things started to change. We started talking more and hanging out. Now we get along really well, talk often (mostly via text), and try to hang out whenever our schedules allow. She works the same type of job I do, lives in a building owned by the same company as I do, and pretty much tries to be like me in everyway. Okay that was complete sarcasm, but honestly, she is one of my best and closest friends. She understands me like very very few do, she is ALWAYS there for me even when I am usually complaining constantly, and is one of the greatest people I know. Now she is all grown up, living away from home, and engaged to be married next summer. We have a number of running jokes (that others don’t get) and we are usually in hysterics most times we hang out.
And all of those years fighting are long over, I don’t think we’ve had a fight since I was in high school. Even if it sounds like we are fighting we actually aren’t – but again, very few people understand. The bond with a sister is one of the greatest gifts I have been given and everyday I am so thankful that she came into this world and stole part of my thunder.
Until next time...
