Sunday, April 06, 2008

seriously outstanding sisters

My parents had four daughters. Not to slight my brother, whose story is here, but this is just about The Sisters. Somewhere along the way (our parents and) we started referring to ourselves in this strangely conventish manner and it stuck. I like the idea that we're some odd but not-very-pious faux-religious order. An order in which all first names begin with the letter E.

I am the second daughter, flanked by an 18-month or so distance on either side by #1 and #3. Another odd factor: our parents often refer to us by birth order number. (I have since rejected my place in this appellation as too fecal, even for this potty-mouth. I prefer to be called e-squared.) Anyway, in keeping with the previous theme, I call #4: Sister E of the Bungled Contraception. She was the six-years-later bonus baby. The result of irregular cycles, assumptions and mom being too cheap to go get a blood test. My mother thought she was pregnant, stopped using birth control and got pregnant. I fucking LOVE this story. (My mother is absolutely the wellspring from which my humor originates, and while I don't think she would find this entry as entertaining as I do, she still appreciates the funny. I also don't think she reads this blag-o-mine because I say fuck and asshole too much and she hates those words. I delight in those words because I'm such a fucking asshole.) I especially love that this funny misstep affixed the fourth wheel to our e-is-for-estrogen caravan. A real bonus baby if I've ever met one.

Anyway, I have, in all modesty, three of the most badass sisters ever assembled. If there was an athletic bone in my body, I'd say we were a ready-made team that would be hard to beat. All of my sisters are smart. Educated. Funny as hell. Great mothers. Professionals. Compassionate and generous. And can't bear it when any one of the other sisters is in pain. We live very far away from each other, a thousand miles or more separate me from each of them, and I'd like to say that the distance isn't what keeps us close but I don't know. I hope that proximity would not erode the affection we share.

We've all been through our respective periods of hell. On the list of the saddest moments of my life was watching my just-younger sister lose her children in a custody battle. We are very close and the anguish she felt was physically painful to me. (She got them back and has proven what we knew all along, that she is an exceptional mother who was married to a spineless piece of shit. Sorry, my niece and nephew, I have no love for anyone who hurts my sister.)

My oldest sister has been away. And she's come back and the best, best thing of all is to hear her laugh again. Really laugh.

There have been sick children, ugly divorces, custody battles, financial crises and finding out their self-righteous, once-religious sister (moi) was queer. There have been accidents and domestic violence and court martials and unplanned pregnancies. And still, when the shit hits the fan, my sisters rush to each other with shit-repelling umbrellas. And Lysol, for the smell.

I have three incredible sisters. My parents should positively burst with pride.

P.S. I may have forgotten to mention that we're a damned attractive quartet of siblings, too.


Menchuvian Candidate said...

I dunno, maybe we are related-at least theologically. I've long proclaimed myself a novitiate in the order of St. Chester the Turtle.

And, yeah, you're right; your parents should be:)

Dr. Ding said...

Just when I think you couldn't blog any more coolly*, you come up with shit-repelling umbrella. Goddamn you're one fine-ass writer slash fucking asshole.

*is this a word?

Anonymous said...

Oh Neen. As hard as you try, you'll never be a fuckin' asshole. You saved me from Penny Maringola when she threw my baseball card collection across the lawn (wasn't I supposed to be the gay one?). You stopped me from crying - or joined me - from the moment I could breathe to the breath I just let out.
#4 or as you refer..."flushing"

Epiphenita said...

MC - St. Chester the Turtle? Calls to mind the well-endowed and plodding. No offense to the order. I would like, of course, be Mother Superior of the Holy Hammock.

Dr. Ding - Thank you! I love when people recognize my assholiness. You can borrow my shit-repelling umbrella whenever you'd like.

Sister E of the BC - you were my practice child, dear girl, and my children have you to thank for all the mistakes I didn't make because of it.

Btw, aspiring to be a true fucking asshole is only a pipedream, I know, but a girl can dream, can't she?

Menchuvian Candidate said...

I take umbrage! or, umm, umbrellage! St. Chester the Turtle is noble, yet humble. He is also often found in the cool shady grass under the hammock. Sleeping.