I don’t know why, but for some reason my third sister’s birthday blog didn’t get published.  I don’t know whether that is regretful or a blessing, but never having been one to take the easy way out…Here nearly a month later is her birthday blog.  If you never hear from me again, make sure she is interviewed thoroughly by the police.

My third sister hates me.  This is not new.  She hated me when I was born and I have done nothing in the last forty-nine years to change her opinion of me.  The problem is, I can’t imagine what it was I did as an infant that soured her on me to begin with.  Today is her birthday and she is fifty-five.  Talk about holding a grudge.

Apparently the problem is that she decided the role of baby of the family was hers.  Seeing as how there had been a girl born to our family in May every three years for the last nine years was enough to have her believe that she was in fact, the baby of the family.  She held on for six years and then by some act of passion I was born in February and her whole life went to hell in a handbasket.  Now here is the part that you will want to pay close attention to…I some how managed to make this happen from my mother’s womb.  You see, my birth is my fault.   Stay with me…I am a single cell being in my mother’s womb, but so highly intelligent that I manage through some type of Vulcan mind meld to convince my parent’s to have sex.  Out of this union I am fertilized and allowed to grow.  For nine months I hatch my evil plan.  I will be everything to this family…the baby daughter, the kid sister, cute and cuddly and absolutely lovable.  That will show her!  After about forty weeks my plan is secure and I make my appearance.  This happens in a snowstorm that will keep my siblings out of school for something like six weeks.  This will allow them to become even more attached to me as I steal her thunder.  While I am growing,  I will do my best to always be cute, intelligent, and lovable.  This will last until I die.  That will show her (insert maniacal laughter here).

She openly hates me.  I don’t harbor such resentment, even though she spent much of my childhood trying to kill me.  When I was very small we lived on a farm and we each had chores to do.  (Well I didn’t…I was like four or something)  Her chore was to gather the eggs.  She would take me with her, which I thought was great fun…little did I know this wasn’t done out of love and joy.  She took me with her so I could reach the nests up high.  She would lift me up and I would blindly gather eggs.  She did this because she knew that snakes might be up there and since she couldn’t see them she wouldn’t know until it was too late.  That is just one example.  She also made me unplug the appliances in any electric storm, made me work like her personal slave over the summer vacation’s when our parent’s would leave her in charge of me, and throw things at my head if I ever dared to talk back.

I am not kidding.  Her misery at having a younger sister fueled her to make me just as effin’ miserable as she was.  I couldn’t wait till she was married and out of the house.  Finally, I felt that my life might continue without the considerable attempts to end it.  She married and moved and had two kids and I thought finally things would simmer down.  Much later, I married and had two kids and it seemed things were, if not fine, at least okay.  Then after her second child was born I found out I was pregnant with my third.  It was like someone dropped a nuclear war head on her.  I remember her telling me, “you just had to have the last grandchild.”  Yeah, that was my plan.  I was one foot out the door in a crappy marriage and was ready to start back to college.  At just that point in my life I find that I am in the midst of a surprise pregnancy.  You betcha’!

It seems like she has been competing with me her entire life, but is it really a competition if one of us is not playing.  You see, here’s the thing…I don’t hate my sister.  I would do anything I could for her, and I mean it.  If she needed an organ and I had a spare…no problem.  If she needs help with anything that I can help her with I am there, and I am honestly hurt that she feels the way she does about me.  I have tried for years to be there for her in anyway I could and it seems that all of my best intentions are met with scrutiny and disdain.  I just want to say once and for all…it is not my fault that mom and dad had sex!!  It is not my fault that birth control pills were made available in 1960 and not 1959, trust me…I realize that if they had been just one year earlier I would not be here.  I know this because mother continued to take the pill for twenty years after she had gone through menopause just to be damned certain that she wouldn’t have any more kids.

It is time to bury the hatchet, and I don’t mean in one another.  Lord have mercy, we are middle aged women.  If you can’t get over a little thing like unprotected sex how are you going to get past most of life’s issues?  We fought enough when we were teens to carry us through for the next one hundred years.  Let’s let bygones be bygones.  So Happy Birthday Sis!  I wish you well.  I wish you love, and happiness and all the grandkids you can handle running through your house.  I know you are just getting started, but trust me I see grandbabies in your future.  I see many snot-nosed love bugs scampering through your house.  Enjoy every minute of it…and when the time comes that you need a sister (other than the two you already like) I’ll be here.

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