Tuesday, March 20, 2012

BABY SISTER

Soo-ey, Sewerage, Soo-Soo, or some other slanderous version of Susan was Baby Sis's handle around our home, thanks to the ever-creative older sisters who (knowing her short fuse) loved seeing their youngest sibling (or Cybil like the multi-personality protagonist of the book/movie of the same name) levitate off the ground with her head spinning in white-hot anger.  They knew how to push her buttons and have her self-destruct.

  
CB Older Sis, CB Middle Sis, and Baby Sis
Can you pick the non-conformist?  The Artist?  The Nudist?

Morning at our house was always hectic, with three school-age girls vying for the bathroom mirror and railing against ear cleaning, parent-imposed hair grooming, and the ever popular mandatory nostril inspection.  Having cleared all those hurdles one morning and hearing Big Sis start the VW bus, I sighed relief  and believed them all on their way to whatever tumultuous  experiences they could inflict on their teachers that day.  My heart sank as the engine stopped, and one sister stomped up the stair from the garage, followed by a second set of stomps and then a third.  Baby Sis appeared crying with the shocking news that..."Big Sis hit me for NO reason."  The second stomper stood glowering at her and pontificated, "Inform your daughter that I am NOT a faggot!"  Middle Sis was non-committal but seemed to concur that there were incorrect assertions.  Knowing all this had not occurred in a vacuum, I addressed the bad choice of a word, which is a tad too archaic to have been picked up in the 'hood.  I then reminded them to visit me at least once a month at the insane asylum, where they were sure to send me.


   
Can you pick out the responsible older sis?  The middle sis?
The cat that ate the canary?

Baby Sis, thin-skinned to insults, always seemed to be engaged in scuffles at school, especially with bullies.  She championed shy children, whom she felt obligated to speak for and protect.  One of the first children she brought home to spend the night was so shy her mother feared she might have to come and get her before night.  She had a very notable speech impediment which other children found amusing, but not Baby Sis.  When Big and Middle Sis laughed at her friend, Baby Sis was incensed and gave them a heated lecture about the golden rule.  Needless to say, the little overnight guest never wanted to leave.  The mother was shocked when she cried at having to go home!!



Can you pick the difficult to manage horse?  

For all her conflicts with siblings, Baby Sis was popular with friends as well as a bad influence it seems.  Her efforts to build a strong band of sisters almost resulted in getting the Japanese exchange student deported, no small feat.  While on a shoplifting venture, which I neither instructed or inspired, Baby Sis and her unskilled pilferers were apprehended and that created my first opportunity to stand proudly and receive an ear-blasting from a local judge.  Oh, the places you will go.


Baby Sis in High School

We learn from our experiences and are better for them.  Baby Sis has never done hard time and can still vote!  She is beautiful, funny, talented, and a real sweetheart.  She still has a soft spot for downtrodden people and animals and we would not change a thing about her.



Baby Sis Today 

9 comments:

  1. Don't forget Sunshine, that was another nickname of hers in high school.

    I don't ever remember driving Baby Sis to school, are you sure that wasn't Middle Sister? You know the one that wrecked a Porsche near the high school and drove Gus's car in the ditch in Yorktown? That one?

    (Deflection is a survival mechanism in this family.)

    Anyway, I LOVE Baby Sister and actually truly believe she is an artistic genius who may have struggled in earlier years with diplomacy and tact. Double barreling the crowd at the basketball game comes to mind.

    Love you, Baby Sis!

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  2. You're so fortunate, having three wonderful daughters, all Porsche-wrecking aside.
    K

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  3. I am shocked you don't remember the unfortunate name-calling. She was in middle school and you were at HS. You drove everybody for a year or two.

    I am lucky, K., and I know it. Thanks.

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    1. I remember taking Middle Sis and remember going to MIS with Marie to drop off Joy (in their Pinto) but I've blocked out dropping off Baby Sis.

      Here's what really surprises me. Except for the unfortunate nicknames (Soo-y!) and perhaps the battery-operated train that I gleefully started up even though it would frighten her, I don't recall having major fights or issues with her.

      Middle Sis, well, in the job description for being an Older Sis it clearly states I have certain inablienable rights that include taunting, teasing and torturing the next in line.

      I'm not proud, but it was what it was.

      Hopefully they've forgiven me. For all that AND serving them D-con rat poison at a tea party. Oh, and the undercooked sausage. No harm intended, in either atrocity.

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  4. Having been lucky enough to spend some time with Baby Sis I can attest she's a fabulous person

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  5. They are all beautiful inside and out. Well, except for all the name calling and such.

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  6. Thanks for the unexpected roast!
    1.) I still use the double barrel, unfortunately, and it is usually accompanied by "f" word featured in this story and preceded by another "f" word - not intended to be harmful, just an old school way of letting people know they don't know how to drive.
    2.) Does anybody appreciate my 80's coiff? I didn't roll out of bed looking like Tweety Bird, that took maintenance!
    3.)The latest picture isn't even that recent, maybe 10 years ago? If you want to see what I look like now just visit www.davidspade.com.
    4.) It's not as easy as it used to be , to be a nudist.
    Love,
    Baby Sis

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  7. It's the most recent one I have (hint) but you still look like that to me. You kind of look like my mother in that one.

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  8. She's adorable in every single picture and continues to get more adorable--even if/when she's double barreling the crowd or a misbehaving driver.

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