Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I think part of why my week last week was so rough was because we were all a little (a lot) depressed that she had left. I got used to having a "wife" around. It cannot be overstated how great it was to have an extra set of capable hands. My boys enjoyed having Hippo as a playmate. (In Sambo's case, I use the term "enjoyed" loosely.) And I got really used to having that precious baby smile at me every time I walked by.
I loved every single second of having them here, and was so sad to see them leave. My sister is an amazing mother. She has a gift for patience and is highly trained to understand children and people in general. She is a fabulous cook, cleans up after herself, kept me entertained with funny stories and her sharp wit, not to mention her wise outlook on life. She likes to get out and do things with the kids and had a great attitude even though she battled the stomach flu, a cold, fatigue from caring for a brand new baby, insomnia, and parenting alone when her husband had to go home to get back to school. Her husband is an amazing father. He has a connection with their oldest son that I've never ever seen before. He shares in all the parenting responsibilities (including helping plenty with my kids) and never seems to get tired. That guy is a workhorse and cooked, cleaned, ran errands, played with the kids, helped G set up a new speaker system, to name a few things. With all that said, it's no wonder they were such fun and easy house guests.
You know something really ironic? My sister and I couldn't stand each other growing up. It was a very good thing once we no longer lived under the same roof. We were just shy of two years apart and had to share a room, so we never had privacy and had ample opportunity to torment one another. We had nothing in common besides being stubborn -- so everything about each other was annoying. It was a terrible and volatile relationship. One time many years ago I suggested my sister live with me for a few months. This was when G and I were newlyweds and we had a spare bedroom in our tiny apartment. I can't remember why she needed a place to live. Anyway, my mom heard about the proposal and called and told both of us "HELL NO!" Us living under the same roof = very bad idea.
My how things have changed because now I can hardly wait until our next visit. I found myself begging her to move into my house or at least my town or county when they are done with school. Whereas I found sharing a room with her torture growing up, now I think having her across the country is torture.
Funny how we "used" to have nothing in common yet now I agree with everything she says. We still are different, but our husbands have said on more than one occasion that we're very similar. In fact, they have formed a support group for men married to S* girls. (Luckily there are only two girls in my family.) I don't know what happened. Did our punk kids draw us closer? We do have a lot in common in that department, I'll tell you that. Our oldest children were most definitely cut from the same cloth! Did our shared experiences growing up draw us closer now that we've got adult perspectives? Or like our husbands have been insisting for years, are we more similar that we thought?
Who knows, but I do know this. I miss her like crazy. I miss her kids like crazy. I love them like my own children, and I can't wait for our next visit. Come back soon!
P.S. I only took ONE picture of my sister while she was here. And I never got one of her awesome new hairdo.
P.P.S. I'm still in a good mood after my break last week!
P.P.P.S. Sambo is back. His bad mood/violent tantrums stopped when he got some quantity time with daddy. He's been sweet and adorable just like he used to be. Love this version of him!