Monday Memories..Little Sister stories

( My Sister Bobbie, Mom and Me)

Whenever I remember stories of my childhood my children's eyes instantly glaze over and this look of pure horror comes over their face as if to say, "Oh no, not another You think you have it bad?' a story where she walked barefoot to school uphill both ways."

I was the "little sister" for most of my formative years. My sister, Bobbie, is three years older and was my mother's favorite child (at least I always thought so). Mom had a bad habit of comparing the two of us to each other so naturally, the contrast was always a good child versus a bad child. I got the "Why can't you be pretty and smart like your sister Barbara" version. She got the "Why can't you be sweet and loving like your sister Kathy edition. Consequently we each felt like the other was more loved by our parental units.

As the little sister, I got to bask in her glory. I was always Barbara's sister. It was especially hard to have teachers that had taught my brilliant sister and then taught me. Like most little sisters I adored her and of course, to be included in her world was a real treat even if it meant carrying the majority of the burden.

Both of my parents had lived through the depression so they were very frugal with money. My sister and I shared a bike. It was a big bike and we were pretty small. Dad ended up putting blocks of wood on the pedals as our legs were too short to sit on the seat and pedal. Did I say share? There were two scenarios.....she would ride and I would run along behind the bike till she lost me, or her favorite scenario...I pumped and she rode on the back.

We would make snowmen together. She rolled the snow till it was too heavy for her to lift and then she would have me move it to where she wanted it displayed.

It was always my turn to do the dishes, I was always the last one to do whatever Mom said not to do, it was always my shoes that tracked up the floor, and I was "it" in every game. She would come up with the ideas and I was always willing to go along. If she said she was brave, so was I even if it meant touching a bee to prove it. To say she got me in trouble with my folks would have been an understatement but I never seemed to learn.

She was the first one to hear my secrets, the one I would conspire with, the one I would wake up on Christmas morning at 4 a.m. to see if it was too early to wake the folks yet. She was also the first one to experience all the firsts. She was the overachiever, I felt fortunate to just be included in the game.

Now that we are both grandmothers, I can't imagine what my life would have been without her.
She is one of my greatest supporters and cheerleader. Who knew?

Were you ever the little sister?