Category Archives: Sibling Stories or How To Get Even

Embarrassment Factor: 9.2

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Over the last few weeks I’ve been climbing down the branches of The Crazie Family Tree. Big Sister and Big Brother stories have been shared and I should be next in line.

I'm not ONE, I'm TEN

I’m not ONE, I’m TEN

Sibling Position #3

At Christmas Eve, I told my family I planned to skip over myself and on to First Little Brother.

“NOT FAIR!” Crazie Family shouted. “You have to share an embarrassing story about yourself.”

“Umm, I thought that’s what I did every week,” I said.

“Tell the one about running away,” Big Sister said.

“Already did it.”

“Write about the time you got your elbows stuck in Grandmother’s chair,” Big Brother insisted.

“Wrote it.”

“How about the time we euthanized a mouse?” First Little Brother asked.

“Done and done.”

Over the next hour they tried to come up with a story about my childhood that I haven’t yet told, and would sufficiently embarrass me.

“Remember how she was too short to reach both pedals of a bike?” My Aunt said.

“Oh, yeah,” Big Brother said. “Dad put a step stool on the side of a hill so she could get a rolling start. Then she’d push the right pedal down until she couldn’t reach, then the left pedal would be high enough. She had to ram into the side of the barn to stop.”

“Ha, ha,” Second Little Brother laughed. “She walked around all summer with a big goose egg on her forehead.”

“That’s a good one.” I laughed along with them and then stared at my husband, sending the ESP message not to tell the story about my latest shopping experience.

He was a good husband and did not share, but in the spirit of fairness and since its now obvious to me that no one from my family reads my posts anyway, here it is.

I was in the dressing room of a nice clothing store trying to find something to fit my latest personality switch. Halfway through a dozen outfits, a massive hot flash struck me.

Normally, before I leave a dressing room, my OCD requires that I return everything to its proper hanger and hand the items to the clerk. Not this day. With sweat running into my eyes, I left the clothes in a pile on the floor, grabbed my coat and hurried out the door to stand on the sidewalk in the freezing air. The hot flash now gone and my teeth chattering, I quickly buttoned up my down coat and headed off to meet my friend for lunch.

Climbing into the booth, I removed my coat and immediately sensed something was wrong. Perhaps it was the questioning look on my friend’s face, then again it could have been the goose bumps breaking out on my arms.

It seems, in my hurry to exit the dressing room, I left my shirt in the pile of clothing on the floor.

To ease the embarrassment factor on this story, I will tell you that, thanks to my love of all things Spanx, I was sporting one of their industrial strength tank tops.

But, then to crank the embarrassment back up, I had to return to the nice clothing store and, in front of everyone waiting to pay, explain that I’d forgotten to put my shirt on before I left the store. Without a word, the clerk turned around and using the two-finger “I’m holding something disgusting” method, handed me a small bag containing my blouse.

See what you’ve done, Crazie Family? As I write this, I’m suffering another hot flash…from embarrassment. Happy now?

When Davy Crockett saved Mary Poppins

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I’m ready to climb the Brother Branch of the Crazie Family Tree. If you need to get caught up, click here.

I was born two weeks after this picture was taken

I was born two weeks after this picture was taken

Sibling Position #2 – Two Years Older Than Me

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It was a beautiful late-summer day under a cobalt Kansas sky, littered with puffy white clouds. Mike, a ten-year-old ready for a day as Davy Crockett, carried a BB gun and Dad’s dented army canteen hung from his belt. I was ready for a day as a bookworm and carried a faded copy of Mary Poppins.

We took a short-cut through the freshly mowed hay field and hiked until we reached the creek that ran through the middle of our farm. The last heavy rain cut a perfect bench out of the bank halfway down a steep slope. I tumbled down and, sweeping the dust from my book, settled into a pool of sunlight to read. Mike ran around killing clods of dirt with his BB gun.

He finished his job of protecting the farm and slid down the bank to sit next to me. We took swigs of metallic tasting water from the canteen and I asked Mike about important things.

–Does Romper Room really have a magic mirror? Mike said yes, that Miss Connie called his name several times. I was crushed because even though she’d looked directly at me from the television, she’d never called mine.

–Can we start a club where no big sisters are allowed? He said, sure, we’ll start it right now and we shook on it.

–Will Mom and Dad ever quit arguing? Mike paused and because he’s always honest with me, said he didn’t think so.

After his last answer, we sat quietly contemplating our life, filled with times of shouting followed by hugs and laughter.

“Shhhhh!” Mike grabbed my arm. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I listened as the leaves on the ground above our head rustled. “Sheesh.” I sneered. “What a scaredy cat. It’s just leaves.”

“No it’s not. Listen.” Again the leaves rattled.

We stood up to investigate and came eye to eye with a rattlesnake. “Snake!” I screamed.

Mike fired off a couple of BBs, then took hold of my hand and pulled me through the creek. We raced all the way home — Mike stopping every few yards to shoot at the demonic snake that was right on our heels. (You’ll say a snake can’t move that fast and couldn’t have been following us. To this day Mike swears it’s true and, because he always tell me the truth, I believe him.)

Clamoring into the house, we shut the door behind us and climbed onto the couch. Mom marched in asking what all the noise was about and before we could explain, Mike’s in trouble for bringing the BB gun into the house and I’m in trouble for leaving my book outside. And, even though Mom stood in front of us screaming, we smiled because we knew she’d keep us safe.