Long-Lost Sisters… They Do Exist!

Mothers.

The everyday super hero.

Not only are they caretakers for their children and beloved spouses, they often times act as chauffeurs, chefs, personal assistants, doctors, vets, plumbers, landscapers, groupies, and that’s all before lunch. They are the ones boys compare their girlfriends to and girls look to emulate. They are always kind, loving, and compassionate, but watch out when momma bear gets triggered.

The title ‘mom’ is universal. Everyone has one, but they are all different.

My mom has always been my best friend. We never had that phase where we were at each others’ throats, constantly arguing. We’ve always had a fairly open mother-daughter relationship. I didn’t share with her much about my personal life growing up, but I always knew that if I needed her for advice or support, she was there for me.

My mom was always viewed as the cool mom when I was younger. Because of her job, she knew a lot of my classmates’ and their parents (which equaled cred apparently). But along with being popular, she was generous. She would show up at the end of volleyball practices with slushies for the team. She would give other kids rides home after band rehearsals if they didn’t have the means. She looked out for my peers; more so than I did.

My friends were jealous of me and mom’s relationship, especial since she would let me take off school to go shopping with her. Early on, mom and I adopted an annual Christmas shopping day. She would take off from work, I would skip school, and we would go shopping right before Christmas. The trip was a means to get all the Christmas shopping done while the stores weren’t extremely busy, but most of the time, we made the trip about us. We had the same routine for our birthdays as they are separated by just one day: Tweener Day. These outings continued throughout my college career, and to this day, we try and keep the tradition alive.

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Because of our relationship, my mom has always been open with me; more so than most mothers with their daughters. She told me stories of how she would do drugs and sneak out of the house when she was a teenager. She told me about a time that she and her sister secretly boarded one of her friends in their basement after said friend ran away due to a horrific home situation. She told me about how she learned to drive a standard transmission before she got her license because her boyfriend at the time got completely wasted at a company Christmas party and couldn’t drive her home.

Apparently my mom was a complete wild-child back in the day, which is not like me at all. Now I’m curious if that trait skips a generation. I could potentially have my hands full if I ever have kids… thanks mom.

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The day after I turned 23 (yes, Tweener Day for those of you who were paying attention), my mom decided to share another personal story, and boy was it a good one!

“You wanna hear something that will rock your world?”

As yours did I’m sure, my head spun. What on earth…?

I gulped and nodded.

She proceeded to tell me that when she was a teenager, she got pregnant and put her baby up for adoption. She had a little girl, which means I have a half sister somewhere in this world that I have never, and probably will never get the chance to meet.

 

Given how awesome my mom is and how awesome I am (obviously), I can only imagine how incredibly amazing this woman is. Does she have the same sense of humor that my mom and I share? Does she have the same blue eyes that we have? Does she even know that we exist?

My head is so full of questions about a person that I will never know and part of me is sad about it, but a bigger part of me is happily fascinated.

I have a [half] sister…

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I have a brother. He’s four years older than me (and if you didn’t know this, then you need to read I Was That Girl in School). He’s always been a lone wolf type; stayed in his bedroom for days at a time, only emerging to use the bathroom or forage. He moved out when he finished high school and I was just starting, so for the later part of my life, I took on the persona of an only child. All this to say: my brother and I have never been real close.

When we were younger, he was the typical older brother who picked on his little sister, and I was the typical annoying little sister that wanted to do whatever my brother was doing. On occasion, we would stay up all hours of the night playing video games together, eating junk food and talking trash, but that was the extent of our sibling bonding. More often, we were fighting like MMA cage fighters. One time he drop-kicked me as we were getting off the school bus to impress his friends. Anther time, he shot me in the foot with his paintball gun because I kept following him and his friend around. Another time, we got in a fight over the tv remote and it ended with him standing on my neck. He’s lucky I wasn’t a tattletale, or he wouldn’t have an ass to sit on from all the whoopin’s he would have gotten.

Even now in our adult lives, we seldom talk. It’s not that we don’t like each other; my brother is just my brother. We see each other for Thanksgiving and Christmas and maybe a handful of times when I go up to visit the parents. I text him every now and then, but we don’t have much of a relationship, which makes me wonder even more about my sister… What would our relationship have been like?

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Maybe my lack of a relationship with my brother is the reason I’m so close with my mom, but I’m almost certain it’s because she’s the most amazing person in the world. I’m very lucky that my mom has had such an amazing influence on my life and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

Happy belated Mother’s Day to the most wonderful mother a girl could have. You da’ best!

And to my long lost sister, you don’t know what you’re missing.