I just got back from a trister weekend (three sisters: me, #2 and #4. Sister #3 has one of those jobs that’s extraordinarily demanding at this time of the year, not to mention an obligation to My Perfect Nephew #2.) Yesterday, when we were in the tearoom having Samovar Orange Spice tea and chocolate torte, the old ladies – having learned that we were having a Sister Visit – kept asking if we were going to watch a movie later that night. When we ran into one of my sister’s friends in the grocery store last night, she asked if we were going to watch a movie later. What’s with the movies? Who has time to watch a movie when their sisters are around?
Sometimes, people have a hard time with The Sisterhood. We’re more obnoxious than a union with too much money. When the brothers-in-law make a comment about having to “deal with the Sisters”, our parents just sigh and suggest they get used to it. It’s been the 4 of us for almost 37 years, now, and it’s not likely to change.
We’re proud of this.
Many years ago, we made Sister bracelets to wear on days when we needed our sisters close to us. Eventually, the bracelets died, so we made Sister t-shirts. Those have also died, so we needed something new. Unfortunately, our jobs don’t allow us to wear cheap jewelry or t-shirts anymore, but we all like wearing pyjamas.
Thank you, Wal-Mart.
We got our pyjamas, some fabric paint markers and several cups of tea, and set to work.
I take credit for the saying, which gives voice to a thought Sister #2 had earlier that day: Create your own crazy; I’m using mine. (There was an inordinately long discussion about the punctuation, which demanded a phone call to Sister #3, and another to our parents. We settled on using our own punctuation; they’re pyjamas, so no one important will see that my sisters are all illiterate. Please do not blame me if you see them separating the sentences with “dot, dot, dot”.) The four stick figures have been our symbol for years; I don’t even remember where that came from originally. The numbers on the back are because two of the sisters are married to jocks, and thus their brains have been permanently warped. Of course, there’s no way I’m gonna become a jersey-wearer, so I changed my number from #1 to #0. Zero is the number which makes all the others possible. It’s the beginning and the end, and infinity. It’s a number which is never seen on a sports jersey.
There have been times when I wished I was an only child: there is absolutely no privacy when one has 3 sisters, and there’s no limit to the advice given. However, you also know that if anything ever goes wrong, you only have to wait a few hours before there’s at least one sister on your doorstep and the others are on the phone. You won’t even have to tell them; they’ll know instinctively. And it sucks if you’re one of the ones on the phone. If there’s something going on, it’s better to be one of the ones on the doorstep.
The other nice thing about the Sisters is that they accept your eccentricities without question (though never without comment). What the world sees as a problem, they see as funny. Of course, you’d never want to be eccentric in the same manner as the next sister, so it’s a challenge to weed out that common part of you and replace it with something fresh and exciting. In our family, it can be difficult to find a quirk which hasn’t been taken, but any effort you make is appreciated.
Think I’ll wear my Sister pyjamas tonight.