Tony

I suppose the first thing to do is to share a story about each sibling.  And the only order to go in is from oldest to youngest.  Because the oldest should always get to go first.  Because we're the most important.  Unless it's something scary then us oldests retain the right to make the youngests go first.  And it's important for everyone to remember this.
One of my earliest favorite memories of Tony had to have been when he was about four years old.  But before we get to this energetic kid let me set the stage.
It was summer which meant bare feet on the farm and more free time than usual but less than we thought we deserved.  I was supposed to be weeding the garden but had taken a break under the auspices of 'watching Tony'--a phrase that could strike fear into the hearts of the most stalwart babysitters.  We wandered around the garden, with him tugging me from mid-thigh stalks to lush green bushes asking me to identify what each plant was.  Corn.  Beans.  Berries.  Beets.  Potatoes.  The kid had energy.
When finally we sat down in the shade of an apple tree--he proceeded to bash a couple trucks together--and after a few moments of that looked up and asked, "When do I turn into a girl?"
As a child myself of eight I was already absolutely confident that I knew more than my younger siblings combined and would always have the right answer for them.  But even I was befuddled.
"Um, what?  I asked.  
Tony stopped playing 'pile-up on I-5' and looked at me.  "You know...girl (he pointed at me), girl (he pointed at his other sister who was still in the garden).  How old will I be when I'm a girl?"
And then it hit me.  This poor kid with two older sisters just assumed that one day he would magically turn into a girl and be a sister too.
I laughed and called him silly.  "You won't ever turn into a girl.  You will stay a boy forever." I told him.  He looked quite skeptically at me as if I just didn't understand, then shrugged and went back to playing.  Look Tony, I was right--here you are almost twenty years later during Hell Week of Navy Seal training and you are most definitely still a boy!  And by the way?  Your eyes look a little freaky in this picture, not that I'm complaining because I know it was taking everything you had just to stay upright.  I'm just saying, that's all.

Forever and Ever

It dawned on me this summer.  

It was a sunny August evening and at first I was mostly relieved that the three birthday cakes I'd made weren't mushy lumps of sugar and cream cheese, no one was likely to get salmonella from the BBQ chicken, and that everyone was there, sitting on my deck.  And by everyone I mean my dad, my sister, my five brothers (with a smattering of girlfriends) and of course, my husband and me.  Yes we had to use two six-foot tables and yes, at some point in the near future I will have to invest in more silverware.  If everyone ever decides to bring a date to one meal I'd like to offer them real utensils.
It dawned on me that as we all get older (and as the oldest child I'm a bit more sensitive about this 'getting older' part), more mobile, and-gasp of horror-collect more responsibilities that it will be increasingly difficult for everyone to gather in one place at one time for one meal.  Even if it is for one hour.
But for today we were here celebrating three August birthdays, inhaling (with all of us around the table if you don't eat fast you might not eat) Caesar salad, tater tot casserole, buttery garlic bread, BBQ chicken, and freshly picked blackberries (thanks KP!) with the general chatter about upcoming fantasy football, school, camping trips, and the like exhausted, the talk turned, as it usually does, to favorite memories--both childhood and more recent.  

And that's when it dawned on me that I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that as time goes on and it's harder to gather everyone together that we might start to forget.  We might forget that one 5K fun run or that one Christmas morning from six years ago.  Therefore I, as the eldest and most responsible, am starting this blog for the seven siblings because even though I didn't birth you, you are very much mine and as new memories come and go, we will always have the old.
Forever and ever.