We are family! I got all my sisters with me! (And my brother!)

What a cutie-pie I was...and so refined!

     So, I was on the phone with my sister, Marissa, and she said, "Are you posting another blog tonight?" "Yes," I replied. "Well will you talk about me?" "Haha sure, I can do that." "Good. I think you should." Duly noted, dear sister. SO. This post I'm gonna talk about corn chips!

     And by corn chips, I mean my siblings. I figure if I'm gonna write about one, I might as well write about 'em all. Let me start by refreshing your memory (or just filling you in if you're just now seeing my blog... in which case, you should definitely read the first two entries. I'm hilarious, and it would be well worth your time to get a few chuckles in). I have five sisters and one brother. I know what you're thinking, "Busy woman, her mom." And let me just respond by saying, "You shut your mouth when you're talking about my mother!" *Ahem* I mean, here, let me explain in a calm, cool, and collected manner....
     There's my mom, Tammy, and my biological dad, Jerry. They had me, and the world hasn't been the same since (You're welcome, world) Alright, now that the best is out of the way (HA!), this now breaks off into two separate tales (and later again...).
     First we'll stick with mom, since that's what I did *ba da Cha!* WHOA watch out! This girl's on fire!! Mom left Jerry, and later met Gaylan, who ended up adopting me. Now I don't need to explain the birds and the bees to y'all. We all know where babies come from. ... ... ... The Stork. So anyways, the Stork brought Marissa home one day after I got out of school. I was 6 by the way, if any of you were wondering. She was little, and quiet, and I dug her pretty well. I honestly don't remember much from when Marissa was a teeny-tiny peeing, pooping, screaming (or not? Mom, did she cry a lot?) infant. I know that she was ugly. I know, I know what you're thinking. Babies are beautiful and blah blah blah. NO. Mom would put her in dresses and take her out and STILL people would look at her and say, "What a ... cute?... little boy you have there... in that dress... that pink, frilly dress..." Fear not, this didn't last long. When she lost (most of) her baby fat, and started walking, she was precious. Really, people, no joke. The cutest. Wanna see?

Why hello there, little penguin!

See? I told you. Cute. We called those her penguin pants. The crotch was nearly down to her ankles, so she waddled like...well... a penguin. Needless to say, she wore them often - as often as we needed to laugh anyway. So, while we're on Marissa, I'll share a story or two to embar--I mean... to showcase the life and times of, well, us.
     We'll start when she was about 1 1/2 or 2. Marissa and I were in the bathtub, and she was apparently ready to get out. Or maybe she was running to mom to tattle on me for something I most certainly didn't do - nark. Anyway, she was covered in suds. Suds + water + a tile floor? You'd think she'd been watching Risky Business with the way she slid across the kitchen. But it doesn't end there. See, for a long time I called my sweet, graceful sister "Trippy Long Stockings" As you have probably guessed it, Marissa fell. Hard. On her tail. And it was hilARious. Painful for her, but so funny to me. She ended up with a fractured arm, I think. Moral of the story, follow your baby sister when she decides to do the naked boogie across the kitchen floor. It'll be marvelous.
     One of Marissa's favorite stories from our childhood for me to tell is about when she was probably 2-3 and would wake up at the ass-crack of dawn. This wouldn't normally be an issue. Most kids (for whatever reason) wake up pretty early to start their days. Not me. No siree bob. I slept as long as I could. On weekends spent at my Mema and Papa's house, I wouldn't wake up until almost 1 or 2 in the afternoon, and would stay up all night. I've always been that way. I'm a night owl. Anywho, she started out with her crib next to my bed. She would wake up and -with me being right there, and being funner than any of the toys in her crib- would start trying to wake me up. As precious as her whispering "Ma-ma" (sounds like the 'ma' in SaMAntha.) each morning to wake me up is to look back on, it sure was a pain in the rear when I was a kid. "Ma-ma...Ma-ma, hungy...Ma-maaa hungyyy...Maaa-maaa... MA-MA!!" "SHUT UP! GO BACK TO SLEEP!" After being yelled at by her idol...er...big sister, she would proceed to cry. So I would get up, get her out of her crib, take her into the kitchen, and feed her. And by feed her, I mean I got someone else to do it.
     When I complained to our parents, they thought it wise and clever to tack a sheet to the ceiling between us. If she couldn't see me, surely she wouldn't be as annoying- I mean- ... no wait, I definitely mean annoying. So, up went the Barney sheet. This worked for a couple days, until the smarty-pants put two and two together, and she realized *Gasp* SISSY IS BEHIND THAT SHEET! And so it began again. Except now, she was "knocking" on the sheet, and her "Ma-ma's" were louder. It's not a wall, genius. No need to shout. Eventually, one morning when I was standing my ground, she got tired of shouting and knocking, and she proceeded to pull a miniature Ronald Reagan."Mr. Gorbachev tear down this wall!" And she did. And there I was. Exposed.
     When the Barney Barrier didn't work, we stuck her in the closet... pause for that to sink in... No really, we did. Actually, it's not that bad. It's one of those wide closets that's not very deep, with the slatted, sliding double doors, you know the kind, that fold? So we opened the doors all the way, stuck her in the closet and then put the blanket on the outside of the closet. Maybe what she needed was a little more darkness to sleep in. WRONG! She played the Reagan card one more time, and yelled "Ma-ma" until I got up, as if the 10 foot distance between me and her was cause for more shouting... -_- So needless to say, I kept getting up at 7 in the morning. The only day she slept longer than me was Christmas morning. And on those days, I was up at 5:45, relishing in disturbing her sweet slumber. HA!

Classy, yes?

     Our parents split when I was 9 and Marissa was 3. Gaylan got custody of Marissa, and my mom of me. Growing up apart wasn't the best, but I truly believe it made us closer. We didn't have time to fight on the weekends. It was either have a good time, or waste the weekend being pissy. Our relationship is a lot stronger for that. One of my favorite things about us is that we still call each other "sissy." The other day when asked why she was mixing Dr. Pepper and Strawberry Fanta, she replied, "That's how sissy and I have always done it." Or she'll call me "Samissy" because of the time she was trying to call me Samantha and Sissy at the same time. She and I have a bond that could never be broken. Oddly enough, we're closer than some siblings that have grown up together in the same house. Those mature relationships you start having with your siblings when you're in your 20's and 30's, where you love being around one another and are incredibly close? Yea, we've had that since we were in grade school. Boom! What now?! Really, though, she's my sunshine. I don't know what I would have done without her. Alright, alright! Nothin' to see here. There's just dirt in my eye, back off!
 
      Alright, so when mom and Gaylan split, he met our stepmom, Laura. Laura had a son (had? has. she HAS a son), TJ. Marissa, TJ and I became close, super quick. We would do everything together when I came over. Our favorite thing to do was ride the four-wheeler (Pic to come later! Gotta scan it in!). The three of us would pile on - super safe, by the way- and ride all over the pasture in the back of our house. At one point, the pond in the pasture had gone completely dry (Texas summers - they're a biotch). We had the SUPER bright idea to drive the four-wheeler down into it, ride all over the makeshift hills, and then use the other side as a ramp leading out of the pond. Ya know those things that you did as a kid, and you look back on them like "Wow. That was so dumb. I could've gotten really hurt." This is one of those times. But, even knowing how unsafe it was, I would go back and relive those days again and again.

Here we are, Christmas Eve, looking super
awesome. You wish you and your siblings were
this close :) 

     I remember when we were kids, we had a trampoline in the back yard. This is where TJ's embarrassing story comes in. We would play on that thing for hours. Crack the egg, double-bouncing, flipping... Oh and this game. The puppet show. Now, this is slightly embarrassing for me too, so hang in there bro. So I was the puppet master (no, not the scary kind. Great. Now I'll have nightmares tonight.), but I didn't have any puppets. So I would use my hands... and my feet. Anyway, during my little puppet show, Marissa and Teej would ask my feet questions and they (my feet) would whisper the answers in my ear. My hands did the same thing. (Therapy, ladies and gentleman. We needed therapy) TJ's embarrassing part comes in during the singing segment of my "puppet show." I would have Marissa stand up on the trampoline and have TJ kneel down in front of her (if there are typos in this section forgive me, I can't stop laughing). I would then proceed to feed TJ lines to sing. I wouldn't sing them out for him. I would speak the words, and TJ would make up a melody. He would sing love songs to Marissa. Now, this probably isn't as funny to you as it is to me. It's one of those "you had to be there" kinda things. But I am literally in tears thinking about it. His little "I love youuu, foreveeeer" is something I'll always remember. No matter what, I'll always know the tune he made up and used for every song I made him sing. As goofy as it is, those days on the trampoline with my little brother and sister will be some of the best memories I'll ever have. They're pretty tough to beat.

     Okay so that ends it for my mom and Gaylan's line. Back to Jerry. Jerry remarried two more times. The second of those times brought me 3 new sisters, and later a fourth. Jerry and Frieda were together for... a long time before they split, but I still consider her 3 daughters to be my sisters. That won't ever change.

We're so subdued and reserved...
said no one ever.

     Alright so first there's Sam. Little Sam to be exact. I am Big Sam. She and I are only 3 years apart. When I first met her, I was 7 and insanely hyper. I chased this poor four year old girl around the house and screamed, "WE'RE GONNA BE SISTERRRRRS. WE HAVE THE SAME NAME!!! I'll be Big Sam. Because I'm older than you. You be little Sam. Okayyy????" And from then on, we were sisters. We played with barbies, and dolls, and had pretend boyfriends that no one could see... Oh yea, that was a game. B.A.G. Boyfriends and Girlfriends. We were so clever. We ran around kissing everything. The life-sized John Smith wall decal, our hands (ya know, all this practice could be why I'm a good kisser), a tree once... MOVING ON. I'm not ashamed to tell that story, because Frieda makes sure everyone and their mother knows it. Thanks Fried-o Pie. When Jonothan met Frieda and the girls for the first time (poor guy... lol), Frieda told him that story. I wasn't embarrassed...okay maybe a little. But you would be too if your mom were telling people you made out with a stick! Oh, there was this one time, when we were kids, Sam pulled me into the bathroom. She told me she wanted to show me something. "It's something mom does, but you have to close your eyes." Trusting my 7 year old sister completely, I shut my eyes. That was stupid. She then put some water between my eyebrows. "What are you doing? Stop. I don't want to play anymore." is what I should've said. Next thing I know, I feel a swoosh down the center of my face, and I open my eyes to see that she had shaved in between my eyebrows. Not only that, but she didn't really have the razor in the middle, so my eyebrows were off kilter- one is further over than the other. They've never grown back right since then. No one ever notices until I mention it, and then it's all they can see. It's a wonder I still talk about it.... Thanks, Sam, for messing up my eyebrows FOREVER... Sam and I are still very close. We don't talk as much as either of us would like, as we're both busy all the time, but when we do get to talk or see each other, it's like no time has passed at all. She'll always be my Little Sam.
   

My Squeakers
PS - Check out my eyebrows..

     Next comes Savannah, or as I've always called her, Squeaky. Squeaky (Squeaks, Squeak Monster) gets her nickname from the fact that she used to squeak when she laughed. She's 17 years old, and I still call her Squeaks. Squeaky was born not too long before Frieda and Jerry got together. Her dad is Phillip. Now I don't want to get into that situation real deep, but long story short, Savannah didn't know Phillip until she was 5. Before that, she thought she was Jerry's daughter and that her last name was Luker. That sets us up for this next story. When Squeaky first started kindergarten, all she had ever really heard herself called was Squeaky or Squeak Monster (mainly the latter...she was a little monster). So when the teacher started checking role, and calling out names, no one answered to "Savannah Morgan." When they said it a few more times, the teacher looked at Squeaks and said, "Aren't you Savannah Morgan?" Savannah swiftly, and very adamantly replied, "No. My name is Squeak Monster Luker." She fought this fact so hard that they had to call Frieda and Jerry at work and have them come to the school. When they got there, they had to explain to Squeaky that "Squeak Monster" was just a nickname. That her real name was Savannah. Squeaky was devastated (I would be too, Squeak Monster is a friggin awesome name). She's also my favorite singing partner. Squeaky and I have a few songs that we always sing together when we see each other. There's not a single time that I hear those songs that I don't think of her and miss her terribly. She's one of the only people I will sing with, or in front of -for that matter- and feel comfortable. Once, we were in my car (well, more than once, but this one time specifically...) she was playing with my phone, and couldn't get past the lock screen. "You're damn space phone locked me out!" We laughed hysterically, and then spent the rest of the day calling everything a "space" something. Damn space car. Damn space clothes. Damn space hotdog. Savannah has grown into a beautiful young lady, but I can't help myself - I will always always always call her Squeaky, as she will always call me "Bii Saaam" I love my little (Space) Squeak Monster.

You're so tan. And I'm so so so white.

   Mr. Noodle! Sker, Sker, Sker!! What does it mean? Hell if I know. But it is one of the many battle cries of mine and Monty's. Montanna and I have so many memories from so few years spent together. Due to some custody crap when she was a kid, I only saw Monty once a year, over the summer, when our grandparents came into town. We would go pick her up, and take her to the beach, and play all day. That went on for a long time. Seeing her once a year was hard, but not as hard as not seeing her at all. When I was maybe 11 or 12, I stopped getting to see her during the summer. I was too young to do anything about it. I had no clue how to keep in touch with her. That went on for years. YEARS. Years of not knowing where each of us was, or if the other was doing okay. Only knowing that somewhere out there, we each had a sister that we loved and missed terribly.
   Nearly a decade later, our dad called and told me that Monty had moved to Tennessee to live with him. I couldn't believe it. In 2007 I went to visit Kentucky (I was living in Texas at the time), and I'm not gonna lie... Seeing each other for the first time in a decade was... well... weird. And awkward. But after feeling each other out for a few hours, it was like no time had passed at all. We laughed, and goofed off. We talked. For hours. I moved to Tennessee the next year, and we were together as much as possible. Eating Mexican food at Los Penis (Piños), driving around town blasting music and singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" at the tops of our lungs, harassing saving turtles on the side of the road... Now she lives in Texas, and I'm still

We. Are. SO Attractive. 

here, in Tennessee. We still talk, and laugh. I miss her more than I could express.
   I remember one night, during one of the many sleepovers we had (ya know.... like 4 years ago) we stayed up talking till dawn. About life, and how strange it was. How we had been ripped apart, it seemed. Her life, and what happened in that void where we had drifted about alone, without even an inkling as to where the other was. The roads we had traveled on, the bumps and turns, and how it led back to each other. We cried. We hugged.... And then we had a farting contest. Did you think you'd get off scott free, Monty? She's grown now.. er.. sorta. She'll always be my little sister. She'll always make me laugh harder than most. And I'll keep on loving her endlessly. Always.

One of my favorites of us :) 

 Now for the youngest, Keirston, or Kk, or KMay. She's the baby of all my siblings. She and I share Jerry as a dad. She looks absolutely nothing like me, which is NOT how Frieda thought she would turn out. When Keirston was born, Frieda was expecting a big brunette with green eyes and an attitude. What she got was this tiny little blonde with blue eyes (still with an attitude. HA!) Keirston loves to sing. I guess she and I get that from Jerry. She has been in numerous talent shows, and has performed during events in town. I guess to compare her to anyone, I'd have to say she's like a little Carrie Underwood. Her voice is super powerful, and I do believe she'll be famous for it one day. Let's see. Story time, for Kk? I think so. Once when I was sick with an insanely bad earache, I was staying over at Frieda and Jerry's. Keirston was a baby and was still learning how to talk, so she was repeating EVERYTHING. I heard her crying in her room one morning, and got her up to feed her (because I'm a damn good big sister). I had her in her highchair and was looking for her food, and my ear was just pounding it was hurting so bad. I walked over and laid my head on her little tray, and said "Oh, Kk, my ear is hurting so bad..." and she proceeded to lean down and kiss it and said, "I's okay, sissy." Now, you may think, "What a sweet story." No. We're not done yet. So I'm fixing her some oatmeal, and at one point the pain in my ear got so bad I said "Shit! This hurts!" I'm a great big sister. I'm a great big sister. I'm a great big sister.... sorta. She then said, "Shit. ShitShitShitShit. SHIT!" And that was Keirston's first curse word. I'm a great big sister. I love my KayMay!

From Left to Right
Mandy, Frieda, Sam, Squeaks, Me and Kk in front. 

I said that Frieda came to the table with 3 girls. Her two daughters Samantha and Savannah, and her stepdaughter, Mandy. Now I only emphasize the "step" part because I need you all to note that Mandy and I are in no way shape or form related. Technically, Mandy and I both are ex-stepdaughters of Frieda's. We'll never ever be treated that way, that's just not how Frieda raised us. There are no steps on me and I'm not in half, so there's no need to call me a stepsister/half sister or whatever. Same goes for "stepdaughter" she doesn't have any. When asked, she tells people she has 5 daughters. Mandy, Big Sam, Little Sam, Savannah, and Keirston. "Two Samantha's?" "Yes. I just love that name!" Alright, so Mandy and me. Mandy is Little Sam's half sister by their dad. ( I know I know. No Halves. I have to break the rules to tell the story). Mandy has always treated me like a little sister. One year, for Christmas, she sent all of us girls pillow cases that she designed herself, and I still have it after all this time. Mandy and I have only been around each other a handful of times, but you wouldn't know it. She and I talk (not as often as I would like, sorry sister!) on the phone, and it's like no time has passed. I always know, if I'm feeling down, I can turn to her and she'll cheer me up. That's what big sisters are for, right? :) ^ There's one of all five of us girls and Frieda - Don't mind the guy in the back.... Photobomber.

     There you have it. A tale of six
sisters. And a broski. I don't know what I'd do or the kind of person I'd be without any of them. I'm thankful every day for the siblings I have. ...What is with the dust in this room?!? GEEZ!

    Have something about me you'd like to know? Comment beloooow!!! See y'all next time! (Ya know, tomorrow...And by see I mean... well... I'll write tomorrow, okay?) PEACE!