I now have a much more vivid picture of what raising four children was like for my mother, though I enjoy a greater spacing between each of my little ones. After the birthdays roll over, we will have 10, 8, 6, and 5 months. My poor dear mother had us in much more rapid succession so that we run 30, 31, 32, 33 this year.
When describing the four of us, I generally say, “Royce is the oldest, Amber is the sweetest, Jarrod is the best of us. And I am what’s left.”
Royce came to us when mom and dad got married in 1990, when I was 3 and he was 6. My brothers are for another post, though. Today, I am thinking about my sister, because she is Thing I Like.
Amber is only one year older than I am, so we grew up incredibly close.
As a baby, she was thin as a green bean, long and pale with enormous blue-green eyes and one wispy white-blonde curl on the very top of her head. Mom claims she was the happy baby, singing and smiling and contented. Jarrod loved her from the very beginning.
She and I shared a room until she moved away for college. Mom and Dad decorated with a red metal bunk bed and matching stuffed animal shelf, crayola crayon blankets and fan, and a red wooden toy box Uncle Robbie made for us. Our room had two big windows, one that looked out onto the front porch and one that I didn't look out much.
I have always been cold natured, so at night I would often sneak into bed and cuddle up next to her in her bed. She would wake up, move to the other bed, and go back to sleep, only to wake up with me snuggled up beside her again. She didn't get mad or scare me off, even though it must have been very annoying.
Amber always knew fun games to play. She has this remarkable imagination and she’d come up with the most delightful nonsense like Furniture Salesman or Party Police.
At night, she would tell me bedtime stories, serials of buddy adventures that made us giggle until we were breathless. We’d lay down and pretend to pick out a movie that we’d “pop” into our heads for sweet dreams that night.
Amber’s big heart got her trouble sometimes when it came to animals.
My mother is an avid horse rider, and when we were kids she had a quarter horse named Nicodemus and an Appaloosa named April. In the most idyllic of childhood Christmas mornings one year, we awoke to find a fuzzy Shetland pony in the softly falling snow with a big red bow around her neck. These three lived in the pasture behind our house. Fearing these poor beasts would freeze out in gentle summer rain, Amber braved the elements to grab their leads and guide them into the comfort of our house.
With my cat Sassi and Jarrod’s calico Jenna, always had an abundance of kittens around. During the winter, Amber and I would cut up old socks and fashion them into tiny kitty snow gear. To entertain them, we would host Kitty Carnivals, giving them rides in our Ninja Turtle van and in a lego bucket we had tied to the fan. They didn't seem to enjoy that much.
When it came to bird eggs, Amber was more dangerous than a snake.
Blue eyes compelling you to believe her, she would insist that the eggs just fell right out of their nests, so perfectly unbroken, and she couldn't just abandon them! She tried everything she could think of to safely keep those eggs warm until they hatched--the microwave, the oven, the work light from Dad’s garage. The eggs never did hatch.
Amber’s generous in a very organic way. She is constantly thinking of how she can improve someone else's life, what she can do to make them happy.
She particularly loves feeding people--she enjoys good food, and likes it best when she can share it with others. We often host Friday night dinners over at our house to get all together, and it baffles Michael that there is no meal--be it spaghetti or wontons--that we won't bring chips and guacamole to.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be my sister.
To me, she's the most beautiful woman in the world. We could not physically look more dissimilar. My hair and eyes are dark and I’m short and petite all over. Amber is tall and gorgeous with fair coloring and ample curves. She takes more after my mother and aunt, so I perpetually felt different and odd, a “puddle duck” (as dad used to call me). Her hair and makeup and clothes were all perfect while I had an unwashed rat’s nest ponytail and the same enormous sweater on every day. To me, she was glamorous and mature and likeable, everything I was not.
Even though we don't share many of the same physical characteristics, people can often tell that we are sisters. Many have mistaken us for each other, saying “you look so familiar...do you…” to which we will trace it back to them seeing Amber. We have the same mannerisms, personality, temperament.
I don't get to see her as often as I'd like, even though we live in the same town. Mom says that's because I'm clingy--I want to see everybody every day. Which is true, in its way. I lived so far away for so long that I don't want to miss out on these people I missed so much, that bring me so much joy and frustration and that I love like crazy. The older we have gotten, the closer we become, sharing in the insanity of our childhood, the reliance forged in Dad’s illness.
I still think she can do no wrong. Still want to grow up to be her--patient and kind and beautiful, giving and loving. She is such a good person, and I want only good things for her.
Her two little babies are some of the greatest joys in my life. Grayson is a straight up child model, he's so photogenic, and he's probably the easiest child out of all of ours to watch. Quiet and agreeable, he makes sure to include everyone in his games, uses impeccable manners, and never makes or leaves a mess. Maryn is a spitfire of bubbly delight. You gotta watch her because she can cause some mischief, but she's the smiliest little ball of joy and temper.
I got up at four this morning and my parents will be here soon for dinner, so I'd better wrap this up and take a nap. The baby is snoozing beside me and the cat is curled up at my side; my essential oil diffuser is softly wafting eucalyptus and lavender. It's ideal conditions.
I'll end to say: if you don't know Amber, you should meet her. She's one of the greatest things to have ever happened. If you want an Amber, tough. Go get your own. This one’s mine.
Good nap, y'all.
--Andie
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