A bit o' history on myself: I have four brothers. And several male cousins.
One would imagine that I would be tougher, seeing as how I am the oldest. But no. I'm fairly feeble. When my brothers would harass me, instead of like, tackling them, I would say something pathetic-sounding like "You know, that really hurt my feelings" and look sad. It usually worked.
But anyway, I have three stepbrothers and one brother from the same mother. And father. One is about to be a freshman in high school, two of them are 18, and another is 20, off in the Marines.
While they all have their quirks, my blood brother (sounds legit) and I have the most colorful history together. His name is Ryan, and he is 18.
Hey, Ry. Remember when you stole my laptop and had yourself a little photobooth photo shoot?
Because I do.
So anyway, I am taking this moment to retell a few of my favorite brotherly moments in my life, because I haven't seen him in forever and I miss him. All of them.
For those of you with younger brothers, I KNOW you dressed them up. You just couldn't help it. Headbands, dresses, the whole lot. The thing is...my brother liked that. I'd put him in a sparkly purple getup and he would own the hallway like a catwalk.
Around that same time, when I decided my brother's sole purpose was a living toy for myself, I fancied myself an inventor. I had grown weary of constantly having to walk down the stairs using my legs, so I thought I would invent a contraption to do that for me. (I just casually ignored the fact that elevators already existed. I figured I was a visionary.)
So there's little two-year-old Ryan, seated cozily in a plastic toy box, a fake army helmet on his head. At the top of the stairs. Since I wanted to be extra safe, I tossed in a few teddy bears to cushion the blow if he fell out. (I was five at the time. Lots of teddy bears in my collection.) Then, moments before sliding the toy box down the stairs, my mom comes out of the room, freaking.
"You can't push your brother down the stairs!"
"He'll be fine, there's a pillow at the bottom of the stairs."
ONE pillow. Like a little throw pillow. I figure I still owe him big time for that incident.
That is why I'm terrified to have children.
Our trip to the Dominican last summer. Groovy. The one in the flower shorts in the back is my cousin.
This would be the night he convinced to me to try vodka cranberries and I got way too sick....He may or may not have had to hold my hair back while I commented on the vibrant green leaves of the plant I was throwing up on. Really glad I just revealed that story here. We were both of legal drinking age there!
Yes, the blonde one is our mother.
So then, Ryan gets older. And while he has been a ladies' man since birth, it's only gotten worse over the years.
Case in point: Day after Christmas, a year or two ago.
Our hometown is also home to Woodfield Mall, one of the largest in the country. So the day after Christmas is NOT the time to be there. It was swamped. Like well over fire code swamped. Because I think about those things.
We decide to part ways for a bit, and that I will call him when I'm done in the store. So I go, shop around for an hour or so, call him, call him again.
And suddenly, I remember a conversation we had in the car.
Ryan: "My phone's been lost for a few days."
Me: "That sucks."
I immediately panic. I run around, almost in tears, thinking that I would make the worst mother ever. Suddenly, I spot him in a crowd, but because there were too many people I couldn't get to him, or even yell to him.
He must be afraid. He must be so afraid and nervous all by himself.
Never mind the fact that he's seventeen, not seven.
So finally my mom calls me, because my brother had the brains to borrow someone's phone to call her, and tells me where to meet him. When I finally find him, I realize that he hasn't been panicking. In fact, he used the situation as an opportunity to flirt.
He found a cute girl, played the whole "I'm here with my poor dumb sister and she's probably lost and scared somewhere, can I borrow your phone?"
He convinced her to walk around with him for half an hour, made out with her somewhere, then found me.
Meanwhile, I was literally sitting on the floor hyperventilating.
Love you, Ry Guy. Please stop growing. You're already too much taller than me.
(P.S. I helped pick this prom getup. Go me.)
Do any of you have brothers?
If you have stories, I'd love to hear them!