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I was in the library, my absolute favorite part of elementary school. I would walk up and down the stacks that, now, would only come to my waist. Back then, in second grade, they towered over my short-even-for-my-age stature. I fancied Berenstain Bears
We were sitting on our red, blue and green chairs for storytime. These chairs sat on the floor and had a bit of padding on the seat cushion. They sat stacked by the wall until it was time for the librarian to share a story with us. Then we would fight over our favorite colors and sit, wiggle, tip them over and generally make a ruckus while the story was being told. I was sitting in my chair, listening intently when the Ominous Voice of the Secretary came over the loud speaker in the library.
“Mrs. Librarian, would you please send The Girl With Pigtails Who Will One Day Become FireMom to the office?”
Sounds of “oooh” arose from my peers. I smiled, sheepishly. I wasn’t one to be called to the office. There was an issue with a food fight the prior year but that was so first grade. I was a good girl whose mother made her wear dresses even though my favorite past-time was hanging upside down from the monkey bars. I didn’t cause too much trouble though I did, in all honesty, talk. A lot. I exited the library and began the long walk to the office.
I thought about many things on the trip down the hallway. As I turned right to pass the cafeteria, butterflies began to dance in my stomach. I thought about the days after I got my swing set when I was four, eons ago at that point. I would sit on my yellow, hard-seated swing and cry for a sibling. I wanted a sister to play with so badly. Living in the country, our only neighbors being my grandparents, I just wanted a playmate. Years passed. I announced to my grandparents that my mom was pregnant before she had taken a pregnancy test or even suspected that she should. Intuition. I was seven at that point.
A week and a half before I turned eight, I walked into the office, took the phone from the Secretary and said, “Hi Dad!”
“You have a brother!”
“A brother?”
“Yes! A brother!”
“But why? You said I was getting a sister!”
And thus began the love/hate relationship with my brother.
I kid. Kind of. They did tell me that I was getting a sister. The Christmas before he was born, I got a Kid Sister doll. I was so excited to be getting a sister! I would braid her hair and help her dress and we’d talk about boys besides the fact that I was eight years her senior and by the time she liked boys I’d be gone. But then she was a he. That changed things a bit.
It was difficult going from the only child for eight years to having a brother. I made him a sign for his arrival home. And over the years we fought like siblings do, me being upset when he said his bike was cooler than mine and he getting upset when I didn’t want him in my room when my friends were over. And then I left. And he grew up. Sometimes I’m sad that we missed out on the playmate years, that I was gone when he was becoming the man he is today. But it’s worked out.
Today my Baby Brother turns 21. I don’t know how it happened. Sometimes I still see him as the little boy who liked to follow me absolutely everywhere, even when I didn’t want him to do so. I see him a lot in my oldest son, both in looks and mischievous actions and too-smart-for-his-own-good discussions.
My dad called and announced that he’s kicking it old school and setting off a bonfire tomorrow. We always had bonfires on our birthdays. It’s what you do in the country. I’m feeling nostalgic for the little brother that annoyed me, that I loved so fiercely. The one I sat on the swing and wished for… even if I didn’t know it was him for whom I was wishing. I’m glad he’s my brother. I would have killed a sister.
Happy Birthday, Buttface.
10 Responses to “Happy Birthday, Baby Brother”
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My name is Jenna, aka FireMom. I blog here, 
Awww, baby brothers are cool. My brother happens to be my twin, still, he’s cool, too. Happy birthday to your bro!
[P.S. Am totally stealing the birthday bonfire idea. 16 years late, still, all my kids enjoy it when we light up our fire pit. Why not for "birfdays," too, right?]
.-= Liz@thisfullhouse´s last blog ..Driveway Divas =-.
Twitter: firemom
says:
Bonfires on a farm usually shoot sky high and burn off my dad’s eyebrows. But, yes, you can totally steal the idea. I might have FireDad start one in our little pit as well on my birthday after he gets home from work. Work, boo.
My baby brother just turn 25, he is ten years (well nine and a half… not going to make myself 35 before I have to) younger than I am, and is my only sibling. He is the smartest person I know, the voice of reason in our family, and my favourite travel companion even now that I am married!
.-= Erin´s last blog ..just finished! =-.
Twitter: firemom
says:
Growing up, I was really proud of how smart I was. Then came this little brother who was REALLY smart. So, to make him feel bad (I was so kind), I would say, “You can discuss that (whatever the subject was) with me when you beat my SAT score.” It was a good score. AND DANG IF HE DIDN’T BEAT IT. I tell him that he can thank me for his smarts and scores as I was his challenger. Oh, siblings.
I KNOW!!! Same thing happened to me, I did really well in school, but never worked very hard. My brother was smart and driven, skipped grade 3, and still was valedictorian when he graduated. He is currently finishing his Phd in chemistry on full scholarship. I got pregnant in my 3rd year and never finished my degree.
When he turned 21 I said to him “By the time I was your age, I had made my own person. What have you accomplished?”
I still love him.
.-= Erin´s last blog ..just finished! =-.
My little sister is 7 years younger than I am and it was so weird when Jer joined the Navy and we left she was just 11 years old and when I came back she was a senior (not that we didn’t visit but in my mind she was still 11)
I can see the family resemblance to BB.
Happy Birthday to your brother (I would say buttface, but I just don’t know him & don’t feel right calling him that. But if I ever meet him, watch out…LOL)
.-= Domestic Extraordinaire´s last blog ..Looking into those eyes =-.
Twitter: firemom
says:
On one Christmas that I was home from college, my brother picked me up over my head. I was in SHOCK. I’m still in shock.
And he is a Buttface. I say that with love.
My brother is 7 years younger. I felt old that he turned 20 in January. I remember coming home from school to find out my mom had him and I was rather disappointed. Lol. Even though we knew, I was still wishing for a girl. My poor brother. Well, poor me sometimes. When he was 2 or 3, he apparently pulled me around the kitchen floor by my hair, which was down to my waist. He’s now twice my size and rubs it in that his IQ is higher than mine! We fought constantly as kids, but we’re pretty close now. Happy Birthday to your “little” bro!
My little brother is eight years younger than me too. And I wanted a sister too. But I love him a lot. He is in a very selfish time in life and he does not talk to me as much as I would like lately. But I am hoping he will grow out of it and we can be close again. Regardless of the fact that he was eight years younger than me, that he was a boy and that we do not talk very much I love him fiercely.
.-= Upstatemomof3´s last blog ..Pictures I Just HAD to Share =-.
Love your story.