Tag Archives: siblings

Don’t Try to Make Steph Feel

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Last night, 24 hours after the horrific events in Paris, knowing that we all needed a break from the media coverage and sadness, my mom texted to check in on us. Steph was unable to comprehend the sentiment: 

  
 So I stepped in to explain: 

  
In other words, Steph, make Mom feel better by telling her we are ok and enjoying ourselves, so she will stop worrying. 

  

  
  

Things Children From Large Families Understand

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Kid (who has 2 siblings): “My mom always calls me the wrong name.”

Me: “Let me tell ya something, kid. That’s just what happens to parents who have more than 2 children. They can’t keep everyone straight. I’m one of four, and my mom did the same thing.”

Kid: “Yeah but it’s not just that she calls me by my siblings’ names.”

Me: “I know. Let me guess. She also calls you by your uncle’s name. Or her best friend’s name. Or your cousin’s name.”

Kid: “She calls me by the dog’s name.”

Oh. Yikes. That’s rough. 

  

You Can Learn a Very Good Lesson From My Family

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This morning, as I was running at 6am after having been sick all week, I started to doubt my ability to run this upcoming Philadelphia marathon. 

But then I remembered that I ran my very first marathon a few years ago with an extremely painful UTI (don’t ask. I discovered it too late. And I’d come too far). 

And my sister ran a half marathon with a bladder full of kidney stones. 

And my brother ran a half marathon with two extremely chafed, stinging, bleeding nippples. 

And we ALL finished our races. And made pretty good time! Which just goes to show. 

My family is disgusting. 

We really should take better care of ourselves. 

Jesus Christ. 

Lubegate 

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My parents asked me kindly not to write about this. That’s how I knew it was worth sharing.

This weekend my entire family (significant others and baby nephew included) rented a house in Southampton for a friend’s  wedding.

When we arrived at the house, there was a moderately sized bottle of lube sitting on the kitchen counter.

A good ole bottle of 2-in-1 (massage AND play!).

Partially used.

My parents were the first to arrive at the house. Rather than move, hide, or throw out the lube, they chose to place a bag of cashews beside it.

Because that’s what you do when you see a random bottle of lube on your kitchen counter. You unpack your snacks.

(There’s a nut joke in here somewhere. Feel free to find it.)

Eric and I were the next to arrive at the house and encounter the lube. We could only assume it belonged to my parents, as they were the only people there before us. I’m not saying that either one of us was comfortable with this idea. We were not. We were very, very uncomfortable. Particularly Eric. He’s still sort of new here.

We didn’t have time to confirm the owners of the lube, however, because we were running late for the rehearsal dinner. So we shared a panicked and awkward “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” exchange and decided to never speak of it again. (Except during the entire car ride to dinner. And the walk from the car to dinner. And all of dinner.)

A few hours later, while Eric and I were at the dinner, Zack arrived at the house and immediately sent this to the sibling text chain:


Needless to say, Eric and I got a huge kick out of this.  As did everyone at the rehearsal dinner– because naturally, I thought it’d be hilarious to pass my phone around and tell the story to everyone at my table. (Note: these were acquaintances. I did not know these people well at all. Well…now I do).

I also informed the bride. Clearly, hours before her wedding, it was something she needed to know.

When we got home that night I decided I needed confirmation, so I casually confronted my parents. They swore the lube was there when they arrived.

And you know what? I believe them. Mainly because that’s something my dad would totally admit to. But also because I want to be able to sleep at night.

So thank you to Ramona, our Airbnb renter, for leaving us that personalized housewarming gift. Unfortunately, since this was a wholesome family vacation (and the walls were super thin), we had  no use for it.

Not wanting the thoughtful gift to go to waste, I did suggest it’d be fun to lube up the baby and watch him try to crawl across the hardwood floor.

No one agreed.

At the end of the weekend, we decided to leave the bottle of lube right where we found it. Because some other family should have the chance to see it, suspect one another, and die a little inside, just as we did.

We would never deny someone that opportunity.

We’re not monsters.