January 8, 1988

I had to stay home with grandma because I had a cold / the flu (?). But then I got the news: I had a new baby brother to play with!!! I was very excited, couldn't wait for him to come home, and was so proud to finally be a big sister.

For the first couple years (while he was still in his "cute" phase ;), I was the best big sister I could possibly be: wearing out my red shirt with the white "I'm the Big Sister!" lettering, convincing mom and dad to "Please let me hold him; I'll sit and be REAL careful", feeding him a couple bottles, and only WATCHING mom / dad change his diapers. I wasn't THAT good of a big sis, after all...

Once he got old enough to walk and talk (and get into everything possible in Big Sis' room), the "cute" factor started to wear thin. I, like most older siblings, started resenting the fact that "he's getting all the attention" and I was being left in the dust. Not that I was a drama queen or diva or anything ;) , but I was 8 years old and feeling neglected. I wanted attention, too, damnit! So I did what any big sis would do with a life size Barbie doll: I dressed him up in my clothes. Don't act all innocent, you know you'd have done it too! Of course my clothes swam on him, but in all the pictures (which I still have), he's got this huge sh*t eating grin on his face. Poor kid didn't know any better...

As I got into the babysitting age, I wanted to try out my 'skills' as a babysitter on my younger brother. Who better, right? However, mom and dad wouldn't allow it. They were afraid we'd kill each other. Sad and horrible as it is, they wouldn't leave us alone together because they thought we'd kill each other. I told my parents (and RJ) on more than one occasion that I hated him, and wished I was an only child. (I know, I was a brat! But I had been an only child for the first 6 years of my life, and didn't know how to handle someone else getting all the attention.)

We grew up a team, had some great times, got in fights, got each other in trouble, and kept each other from getting into trouble. I suffered a broken toe at the mercy of RJ's hockey stick in the basement, but I guess that's payment for dropping his head against the arm of the chair when he was a baby. (Sorry buddy!)

Thinking that we hadn't grown as close as I thought siblings should be, it was a shock to me when I learned he cried the day I moved out for the first time. I remember going back to mom & dad's the day after I'd moved to pick up a few things, and he was pretty hateful to me: "What are you doing here? You don't live here anymore." I teared up and asked mom why he was being so mean: "His best friend moved out, Stacey." I made it a point to still spend as much time with him as I could--I'd pick him up and we'd go shopping, or just BS at the apartment.

Well, today he turns 18 years old. I can't believe it. He's graduating highschool in 4 short months, and it leaves me feeling old and wondering where the time has gone. Granted he still doesn't have his license but I can't really say much on that end. (One thing he does need, though, is a J-O-B.) Although I sometimes have to convince or pry things out of him, he tells me his secrets, and I can't begin to say how much that means to me. I know it's gotta be weird for a younger brother to tell his "Big Sis" his secrets, but I appreciate the fact that he trusts me enough to do so, and even listens to my advice--even though it's usually with a, "Ok Stace..."

He's a lot like my dad with his sarcasm, quick wit, and sick sense of humor; he's also a lot like my mom with his creative genius (painting, model cars, you name it), attention to detail, and unwillingness to be embarrassed. But I've also noticed that he's a lot like me, too. He does things to throw you off, says totally off the wall sh*t sometimes, and can be moody as hell. He's just plain....weird. And even though he's a good 7 inches taller than me now, skinny as a rail, but could still kick my a** if he wanted to, he'll always be my "little" brother.

Happy Birthday, man. Love ya.