Family, Bless their hearts.

Family. The longer I live the more I appreciate my family. We have what we call "radar", my mom, my sister and I, and now, sometimes my girls....that can be scary. Sometimes the men in our family are baffled by our camaraderie, which can include going to the bathroom together, at home or at restaurants or the fact that we know when the other is having a bad day, even across state lines. When a crisis happens we are there as fast as we can drive, sometimes we are there before the other one calls. The downside is that we are in each other's business. Bless their hearts.


Important Background Information (IBI)....During an interview, Robin Williams told how there is a certain line of demarcation in this country and to the south of it, women will say "Bless her/his heart". This phrase can mean anything from "Aawwww" to "Back off Bitch." It is so true, it is like an unconscious reflex, but after pointing that out to my mom and sister, we wield that phrase with a vengeance, especially out in public. I'm sure people think we are so sweet....if they only knew.

My mom and sister are a lot alike, sometimes I'd like to pick one up and knock the other in the head....yes, I still quote sayings that my mother used on me. They have definite opinions and are not afraid to share them. I, on the other hand, have definite opinions and am not afraid to manipulate others into seeing it my way. My mom can always see the pragmatic/down side of everything, kinda like rain on a parade. She lost her mother when she was 12 to TB and has been widowed twice, her parade has seen downpours with thunder that rattles you to your core. She is first and foremost a caregiver, family, friends, strangers, stray kids in the neighborhood, she is the most giving person I know. My sister is fierce as the Oklahoma wind when it comes to her opinions and will blow you over if you don't know how to make like a willow and bend. We joke that together we are one whole person. Need anything even remotely artsy fartsy or Suzie Homemaker, I am your girl. Need someone to milk a cow, ride a horse, throw a ball, mow a yard or pasture...she's your girl. Growning up, the big joke used to be for us not to get into tickle fights because someone could get hurt.....then we all laughed because we all knew it would be me. My sister could kick my butt from the time she could walk. She is 2 1/2 years younger than me, but was tougher than any boy we knew.

My mom and sister talk on the phone every day. Each will tell you it is the other one that calls and/or prolongs the conversation. I only have to talk to one of them at a time because they either have already talked and know all about the other one or they will be talking and tell the other one whatever news has been squeezed out of me.

My daughters are 23 and 17 and are past the stage of believing that Grandma and Auntie are perfect and are in the process of working out what kind of adult relationship they can forge between them. That being said, my girls don't answer their phones a lot, because they have caller ID and are under the delusion that they can ignore the two fiercest forces of nature and go on with their lives. I have given the speech over and over, to just accept the forces for who they are and just love them, they don't mean to rain on your parade or blow you over, it's just how they are.

I can talk such a good game. I haven't left my house in 3 days because of pain and fatigue. Nothing earth shattering, sometimes it just happens, no matter what you do. I haven't talked to mom because I know she will hear it in my voice and worry. I made the mistake of calling my sister and I was busted from the git go, so I can expect a call or visit from Mom in the morning. When I have a bad day, or two or week, I tend to avoid talking to either of them because they know when I am lying and I know how much it hurts them when I am hurting. Lupus and a lot of autoimmune disorders can be hard to diagnose and it can take years before there is enough evidence for a diagnosis. The devilish part of it is that so many things hurt, what you wake up hurting with, is not necessarily what you go to bed hurting with. It took a patient and kind primary care doctor, a few specialists, lots of tests over several years to figure it out. When I finally got a very positive ANA (Anti-Nuclear Antibody)test back, I called my mom, positively giddy that there was some evidence that I wasn't just crazy, she said, 'Honey, the test didn't say that you weren't crazy." My sister agreed....I rest my case. Like I said we are very close. Bless their hearts.