sisters

I get the feeling that Emily would like for the ol' bun in the oven to be female. I'm not sure how I got the clue. Perhaps it's because she calls Leo her little sister, or it could be that pesky daily dressup where she prefers him in heels and pearls. Some of you may know my husband--definitely the girly type who embraces the whole princess theme. There's no way he would suggest trucks, balls, or wrestling to his son in lieu of tea parties or doll house. No way jose.

I'm not positive, but I think Eli would enjoy having a house full of daughters. He's told me how much he looks forward to meeting nervous prom dates. In 13 years I fully expect to see him sittin' on the front lawn polishin' his trusty shotgun in anticipation of the "what are your intentions with my daughter" confrontation.

I wouldn't mind another girl. Perhaps that's because I grew up with 4 sisters. Life was always...what's the word...dramatic? no...insane? no...*lovely*. We shared everything: makeup, clothes, crushes, pillow talks, and the same bathroom. And somehow, we survived. And hey! We actually like each other sometimes!

A couple weeks ago, my baby sister turned 13. Ah, sweet memories back in 1998. Kids running everywhere aged 16, 13, 11, 9, 6, and newborn. Those were the good ol days when 5 of us would spend hour after hour crammed in a refrigerator box sliding down the stairs. Or when we would ride our bikes to the corner store to buy and eat and 6 candy bars. Yum. Or when we would eavesdrop on my older brother's cute friends during sleepovers and hope to hear them talking about us. They didn't talk about us. They only talked about two things: sports and food.

That year when I turned 13, my birthday was *awe-some*. My favorite present was a Whitney Houston cassette tape with her hit single "I will always love you." I listened to that song on repeat about...hmm, a kabillion times. My dad gave me 13 gorgeous pink roses and my mom gave me a stick of mascara saying that I could wear it to mass. Score.

When Teresa turned 13, she was gifted something even cooler. I know, I know, what can be cooler than Whitney?? A girls day-boat trip that’s what! My three sisters who live 277 miles away came down for Easter. We spent the morning getting a mani/pedi, went to our favorite Chinese restaurant, and then spent the rest of the afternoon sunbathing in the middle of a lake. Boo-yah.

We had a blast swimming, dancing, singing, and sister-ing. There were some hilarious moments. One time we all jumped in, and I flipped out thanks to my tricky pregnancy hormones screaming YOU CANT SWIM!!! (um, hello life guard, captain of your high school swim team, yes, it's called kick your legs a bit and you'll stay afloat). Then the panic turned to HOW THE HECK ARE YOU PLANNING TO CLIMB BACK THE BOAT WITH THAT GIGANTIC BELLY?!?! (it’s called a ladder…clearly I just don’t know who to yell at when my kids and husband aren’t around. Kidding!) My heart was about to beat out of my chest.

So after we almost got stuck in some tree stumps and Teresa almost drowned, life was good. We were just riding around, picking out which lakeside mansion would be ours in the future, when all of a sudden we hit a colossal tidal wave, gushing a foot of water on board soaking every. single. thing. on. the. boat. Um, did I mention this was a pontoon boat? Like the safest, slowest boat that should stay…dry? Well it was perfect timing to return the boat and hit the road. Fun times my friends. Can’t wait to do it again next year.

When it’s all said and done, I'm sure that we'll end up just like my dad's family--seven boys and one girl. And that’ll be wonderful too:)