I’m going to preface this by saying my sister and I can sometimes revert back to our 12-year-old selves when we get around our mother. It doesn’t happen when we’re together without her, but add our mom into the familial equation, then you’ve got a clusterfuck of teenage hormones.
A few Christmases ago, I was 3 months pregnant with my oldest daughter. I felt enormous. Little did I know, I’d double in size and stay that way for the next five and a half years. I felt like I needed at least a queen-size bed to share with my baby daddy. Anything smaller would kill the baby, obviously.
My sister and I along w/ my baby daddy were coming home to my parent’s for Christmas, and since we got there first, I claimed the room with the queen-size bed. You know. For the baby’s life. FOR THE SAKE OF THE BABY.
Can you guess what happened next?
My sister came into my parent’s house, marched into the room with the big bed, AND ROLLED OUR LUGGAGE TO THE SPARE BEDROOM WITH THE FULL-SIZE BED.
oh yes she did
And oh yes, I moved them back.
AND OH YES SHE MOVED THEM BACK BACK.
There was a cacophony of tears, yelling, insults. My dad was stuck in the middle. Don’t you dare feel sorry for him. He lives in his own little version of paradise. He felt the need to appease both his daughters. To make it even. Make it fair. What all fathers do for their fighting daughters.
He sided with his youngest daughter.
My sister won the battle. She got the big bed.
that bitch
But this is what I remember. This is how we make our memories. By insult-throwing, luggage moving, teenage-style tantrums.
Happy Merry Everything

Do you still fight with your siblings? Or are we the only ones who see the world through our 12-year-old Coke-bottle-sized lenses?
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I’m live and in colorish over at Aiming Low today (well, December 15th)! Show me some loves, won’t you? Won’t you?
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My homegirl, Meghan, is hosting the Second Annual Great Bloggy Holiday Card Exchange. I posted the card back in November, but because I listen to Meghan cause that girl can cut a bitch, here’s the card again.

My girls are WAY too cute.
I’m teaching them to cut a bitch like Aunty Meghan.