sibling1

At some point I will be able to write about the last few weeks.
Right now, my brain is spinning. Although, I recognize my family brings drama and crazy in mass amounts I am still shocked again and again at the new records that are set in the drama department.

For now, let me tell you a story…

One upon a time there were many small children living in a small home.
These small children weren’t allowed to watch television.
But…they heard of the legend of Letterman.
They heard that when the children were put away for the night…the adults were able to turn on the beloved t.v. and watch this legend.

So, they devised a plan and put it in practice for much of the remainder of their childhood in that home…

1. the children went to bed nicely. no whining, no complaining, no stalling.

2. when their parents came to check on them…they pretended to be asleep. they learned the art of drooling, deep breathing, and dead limbs. one of the siblings became a master at hanging their arm over the top bunk as if it were dead weight. worked every time. he was a hero.

3. when their parents settled into the couch and turned on the t.v., it was time…

4. the siblings quietly crept down stairs, around the corner and behind the couch.

5. they sat on the dining room chairs (which were behind the couch) and the 10, 8, 6, and 5 year olds became Letterman fans.

Were they ever found out? Sometimes they were heard creeping down the stairs. But, one sibling always acted as if it was just them…a lone rogue child. Better to sacrifice a single sometimes then the whole forever. But, getting to the dining room meant you were home free. If the parents acted like they were getting up…we just quietly went through the kitchen and back up the stairs.

So, if you were to peek into our home on a weeknight at say…11pm… you might see a living room with a couple adults on the couch oblivious to the 4 children silently watching behind them. Maybe you could sneak them some popcorn? That would be lovely, thank you.

 

clean mouths and broken spatulas.

sibling1

“what’s the worst punishment you can remember as a kid?”

my kids asked me this recently. probably after receiving the naughty step or grounding.

so, I didn’t answer them truthfully. they are kids. they have no concept of some things.
so, I searched my brain for something tame and kid friendly…

“drinking dish soap”

they were horrified. oops, I guess that isn’t tame. I tried again.

“having spatula’s broken on my butt”

again, not a good choice.

“having my nail polish taken away?”

whew…that was met with horror. of a good kind.

My kids just aren’t ready for the hard stuff.
Now, my childhood is over. It’s done. and we have no intention of dragging anything out that is unhealthy.

But… we view our consumption of vast amounts of dish soap as funny.

If we said something inappropriate, sassed off, or any number of things we had to drink dish soap. of the liquid variety.
Lucky for me, it rarely happened.
Not so for my brothers.
It’s a wonder they ever got sick…that had to have had the cleanest mouths around!

And the number of spatula’s broken on my brothers behinds must be a record! (do they keep that sort of record)
It was funny.
See, you can only “spank” so hard with a cooking spatula. They often bend (sending us into giggles…NOT a good idea when you are supposed to be acting apologetic). They deliver hardly any pain (again…don’t EVER mention this) and best of all…
they break.
the little flippy end just flies right off!
So, you are in the middle of a whupping with a cooking spatula pretending to be in pain and whoooooppp there goes the spatula. You try not to giggle. It’s darn funny.
I had a brother that had so many spatulas broke on his behind that I think we started keeping a record. And he was proud that he held the title.

So, although my kids don’t understand the humor…we are able to find humor.
Clean mouths and broken spatulas.
the stuff are childhood was made of.

Shock and Awe.

After 11 Siblings, I shouldn’t have been surprised that there would be a Sibling 12.

I was.

In fact, I was so surprised I went into labor.

No joke.

6 hours after I was told about the upcoming Sibling 12…
My kid#1 was born.

I was shocked.

Stupid me. Nothing this family does should shock me.

Hidden Stashes

Our mother often tried to hide things from us growing up.  We don’t know why she thought that would work; I mean, there’s eleven of us!  Surely SOMEONE would be able to locate the hidden stashes.  And we always did (although I don’t know if she ever realized that).  The most popular things she would stash:

1) M&Ms:  Our mother is a sucker for M&Ms.  I don’t blame her, who isn’t?  But she would hide bags of them in her underwear drawer.  I think this is a reasonable hiding location–it takes a lot of courage to dig around in there–but she often made the mistake of letting us know when she had a fresh supply.  Her favorite thing to do while watching TV is to put a bag of M&Ms in the cushions next to her and “sneak” a few every so often.

She actually believed she was being stealthy…

But it’s kinda easy to figure out what’s going on when she’s chewing on something and every so often reaches into the cushions.  And refuses to let you see what’s in the cushions.

2) Romance Novels:  And not the “I’m-mostly-a-mystery-or-drama-or-chick-flick-but-have-a-few-overly-explicit-scenes” kind of romance novels.  Oh, no.  She has a constant stash of the bodice rippers.  The ones with the sweaty, shirtless men on the covers dipping a sultry woman wearing a little silky slip.  Those ones.  I don’t even want to speculate about why she has that addiction.  Yucky.  She also hides these in her underwear drawer; that makes more sense to me than the M&Ms.

3) Anything needed to make the TV work.  Yes, this one’s a bit more obscure.  I don’t completely understand it, but whenever she isn’t going to be around to enjoy whatever’s being shown on TV, she tries very hard to make sure no one else can watch TV.  Maybe she’s afraid of missing out.  Or thinks we’ll watch porn.  Or thinks of the TV as her “special someone” and doesn’t appreciate sharing.  Whatever her reasons, she tries to very subtly hide a chord, remote, or something similar before she leaves the house.  When she gets back she acts suprised that the TV wasn’t working.  She stashes her TV stuff in her underwear drawer, or sometimes in the blankets.

Mom’s Sewing…RUN AWAY!

Clothes can be expensive when you are buying for 13 people.  To cut costs, we usually did the whole hand-me-down thing.  And a sibling sews. 

But one time our mother tried her hand at it.  She decided to make shorts for all the boys.  She chose some really hideous large print in a scratchy fabric, got an easy (and ugly) drawstring pattern, and set to work.

A few straight sewing lines later, and several hours, she proudly displayed her final product.

The lines were actually suprisingly straight, but she’d sewn the crotch on the outside.  She refused to admit it, and made one of the boys try the shorts on.  Of course, he was incredibly uncomfortable.

I really don’t remember whether he was forced to keep wearing them or not.  Fortunately for all of us, she decided sewing took too much time and never tried again.

Whew!  Potential disaster averted!

Speakin’ in Code

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized most children don’t have code phrases they use when describing their parents, especially as teenagers.  I guess it might be a little weird…

But our code phrases saved our butts more than a few times growing up.

The most useful phrase (usually shouted) : THE PASTA’S IN THE PAN!!! THE PASTA’S IN THE PAN!!!

Our mother = the pasta

Our house = the pan

Yep, whenever one of us heard our mom pulling into the driveway (it was long), we would yell this phrase out repeatedly at the top of our lungs.  Once or twice our mom heard part of the code, but she had no idea what it meant.  But we did; it meant stop what you are doing and go pretend you’ve been spending the last four hours being productive.

Did you ever have codes growing up?  Maybe for teachers, or other people you didn’t like so much?

I plead the 5th!

In the early years, before Sibling 11 showed up, our family lived in a place that had a really large yard.  And in this yard were two perfect rows of fully grown pine trees.  These rows were set just far enough apart for a couple people to walk through at the same time.

So we naturally decided the trees were set up perfectly for our use.

On one end of these rows we created a little seating area out of logs.  Along the “walkway”, we laid down an extra thick layer of carpet (okay, pine needles).  And then we spent most of the summer having weddings and playing lawyer.

I have no idea how many times I married my brother, or acted as part of the jury deciding whether my younger sister was guilty.

It was awesome.

And these trees served an additional purpose; they were a natural hiding place.  Whenever our mom called us into the house, we would ignore her (she usually didn’t have a good reason for wanting us to come in, anyway).  Usually, ignoring her worked and she would leave us to keep playing until we decided to come in ourselves.  Some days, when she had special energy for some reason, she would get annoyed enough to come looking for us and try to force us inside.

And we’d take to the trees.

All of us.  A couple of my siblings would hoist me (I was only 5ish) and my little sister into our trees before taking to theirs.  And then we would climb.

High.

And hide on the opposite side of the tree our mother was on.

When she left we would climb down and continue our rudely interrupted wedding.

This is what I saw when I came home from work at the end of the day…

No really…you can’t make this stuff up. 
They were hanging out of the trees saying hello. 
All 10(?) of them. 

A marble and a vaccuum.

Flashback…memory

Coming home from…science class?…to find sibling #6 with a vaccuum up to his nose.
Why? Well, that’s what I wanted to know. Here’s the story….

Sibling 7 stuck a marble up his nose. Why? don’t know. That’s a question that he for sure needs to answer. But, he is male and under 10…I guess it’s to be expected.

Every means of removing the marble was attempted.
Ways such as…tongs, vaseline, blowing the nose, and more.
Nothing worked.

So…the mother tried the vaccuum.

That’s where sibling#1 enters and walks in to sibling #7 with a vaccuum attached to his nose and a deer in the headlights look.

Of course this wasn’t working.

“Ummm…maybe take him to the doctor?”.

Yes, they do that. With the vaccuum on battery and brought with the WHOLE WAY.
Poor kid had to have that to his nose the whole trip.

I giggle every time I remember walking into the house that day!