Okay, so my baby sister turned 23 at the beginning of this week and I had every intention of writing a nice post about how she’s totally the princess of the family, blah, blah, blah. But then I ended up getting sick, along with Greg and Zoey, and I didn’t go near this little blog for a few days because I was having trouble not coughing for more than five minutes at a time. Thankfully, all members of the Preble Road Crew are starting to feel better, so here we go:
When my parents first announced to our family that they were going to have another baby, I actually didn’t believe them. I was eight years old and figured that there was no way they were going to get gullible Cindy to fall for THAT. They told me to wait nine months and I would see it was true. Huh. Being that young, I wasn’t really able to comprehend what having a baby was all about. I went to my mom’s baby shower and of course, nodded when people asked me if I was going to be a good big sister. But I don’t think I really understood what was about to happen.
One night I told my mom goodnight before going to bed and the next morning, I was a big sister. Cristy had been born while I was oblivious in sleep–Dad had had to rush mom to the hospital and almost didn’t get there in time (yes, Cristy, you were almost born in a parking lot. Heh). I took the Polaroid picture of my mom holding my baby sister in the hospital to show and tell that day and I got to walk to every classmate’s desk to show them. It was in that moment that I got super-excited. I had a baby sister and I was going to play Barbies with her and we’d be really close and I would be the voice of reason in her life because, I thought with my eight year old brain, I was the big sister.
Turns out, Cristy and I butted heads for a good portion of our youth. About everything. Whose turn it was to fill the dishwasher; who got to ride shotgun in the family’s mini van (oh yeah, it was a coveted spot). But when we both entered our later teens (and in my case, early twenties), things started to change between us and I think we started to become friends. I confided in her when I had being important life altering decisions to make and asked what she thought on more than one occasion. She was also my go-to person for making sure I didn’t leave the house looking like a bag lady.
We hung out a lot–going to movies, shopping, out to dinner–and frankly, those times are some of the best memories I have. Sure, we still bickered, but we always made up (or just ignored the fact that we had fought) quickly.
And now that we’re both all grown up, we still stay in contact via e-mail or phone calls at least a couple of times a week. We share the same love of reading and I totally got her hooked on pinterest.com. Yeah, we might have not gotten along well when we were kids, but we’re friends now and that’s all that matters.
So Cristy, in honor of your birthday, I have a few things I’d like apologize for:
-I’m sorry I told you multiple times that you were adopted when we were kids (but really, telling me that I was found under a rock–and a dirty one at that–is just not nice).
-I’m sorry I almost got you to believe that the candy Cow Tails is made from real cow tails (wow, you were kind of a dumb kid, huh?)
-I’m also sorry that when you were in your late teens and asked me what I thought you’d be like when you were older, I answered, “If there’s any justice in this world, you’ll be fat.” At the time, I thought it was funny (although, if I remember correctly, you definitely did not agree) and I have to admit, even now, I find it sort of funny–in a sitcom-y kind of way.
-I’m sorry you were a cheerleader.
-I’m sorry I called you buttface a lot (but you called me loser, so we’re even, no?). You also used to call me Cindy Marie, which is weird because Marie isn’t my middle name. You know that, right?
But I like to think we’re friends now and because of that, I want you to know that I will never tell anyone about how you were at one time completely obsessed with N’sync (in particular, Justin Timberlake) and that you once owned a copy of Britney Spears’s horrible movie, Crossroads (heh). Your secret is safe with me. I will also not tell anyone about the time we were convinced we saw a stuffed animal in the road and so we stopped to rescue it–and we were both completely sober (turns out it wasn’t a stuffed animal) or how we snuck ice cream into the movie theater (well, ONE of us was sneaking it. The other one walked in while licking away at the cone all proud-like). I’ll also not tell anyone that you used to be able to burp like a truck driver.
Anyway, I just want you to know, I’m glad we get along now that you’re not such a little pain in the ass. And if it ever comes to it, I will totally help you hide the bodies. Just so you know.
Happy belated birthday, Cristy Leigh. I hope you had an awesome day and I hope you made Nate take you out to dinner.
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