1 in a Million (literally): O Happy Day!

Nathaniel is not quite at rest with the fact that I have a firm philosophy that states if I am the mother of one child, I am automatically going to be the mother of more children. While Auggi is AMAZING, I know that I am going to have more children, most likely through adoption. Nathaniel is content with our little perfect creation and feels no compulsion to add to our family. I, however, know something very special... and it's a secret given to me on this day 29 years ago.

I was born to a set of 22 year olds who struck genetic and dispositional gold when they had me. Figuring the first collaboration had gone so well, they boldly dreamed of the next corner of their punnet square. Thus, as I teetered about in a 19 month old body, my parents gave me a baby brother. He was born blue, struggling to breathe and already showing the tenacity that would be the earmark of his existence. That day, July 28, 1982, was a day that shaped my life in its entirety... for better, for worse, and forever...

My brother, Bobby, was my best friend. As young children in New York, we played together while my parents executed the seemingly endless task of home improvement. Once, we got locked in a closet with a "temperamental" doorknob that refused to open from the inside as easily as it had from the outside. Together, Bobby and I harnessed the power of our combined Glow Worms to keep each other calm and finally escape our dark cage. We often fell asleep on the foam, baby blue couch that we would roll out in order to watch "Smurfs," "Snorks," "Garfield and Friends," and "Voltron" on Saturday mornings. That couch would bare the stains of fruit juice and the crumbs of cereal for many years and witness many silly puns.

Once our lives moved to the other side of the ocean, Bobby's presence remained sustaining, as he would plan who we would be at the next school we attended. Once, we even conspired to fool everyone that we were twins and had an elaborate plan about skipping grades and failing to explain why we were 2 years apart in school. Bobby would make me (and the entire family) laugh with flatulent jokes anytime we encountered crumbling ruins in our travels and always released the pressure I felt as I uneasily navigated crypts, graveyards, and other old markers of famous (or not so famous) deaths. Even though our parents could always afford us separate rooms, we always wanted to stay in the same room. He was the author of the coolest hamster names every: New Hamster and MC Hamster. He could beat any Nintendo game. Period.

Growing up became more difficult as age and grade increased. Bobby's desire to be free and push himself drew him in much different directions from my compulsive parent/teacher-pleasing antics. There were days when we didn't recognize each other. There were other days when I would illegally allow my 14 year old brother drive the car my parents let me use as a 16 year old and we would conspire to "pull one over" on the mother who witnessed it by ducking behind a building and switching jackets. The awkwardness of growing up was a furnace that shaped our sibling relationship... for better, for worse, forever...

As adults, Bobby and I took very different paths. While I delayed adulthood with school and travel and moving frequently, Bobby got married early and became a full-fledged adult. The discrepancy made relating to one another very difficult. He graciously produced the most amazing nephew, followed by a niece and allowed me to love them in the tradition of our Italian relatives.

Now, Bobby and I are separated by many miles and, at times, what seems like endless emotional and experiential territory. However, I know that the love, humility, comfort, and encouragement that has come only from my relationship with Bobby is still available to me, as only can be from one sibling to another. I know that his presence and influence in our little boy's life is one that can never be replicated or replaced. I know that the little boy who played GI Joes while I played Barbies is still the adult who lives his life parallel to mine.

I want the same experience for our little boy. I want him to know when he infringes upon "sibling law" in a way that only Bobby was able to teach me. I want him to know that there is someone else who will be stirred by the same memories, as Bobby and I are. I want Auggi to experience giggling to sleep with someone who can sweet talk mom into forgiveness, as Bobby and I did. I want a bike riding partner for our boy, as well as a tattle tale for those other not-so-wholesome tasks, as Bobby was for me. In my life, Bobby has done those things and SO many more, I can't help but know that our family will be expanded to afford Auggi the same delight and sustenance.

Expressing love to my brother in a way that he can understand it is a work in progress. This post is the perfect example, as I want to show my brother love, but very seriously doubt he's read to this point, as "short and sweet" is his MO in communication... (are you still there, Bobby?)

We are, ultimately, very different people. The respect I have for him, however, is without hindrance.

I am so thankful for my brother. I am so thankful for the pain and growth experienced at his hands, as well as the acceptance and laughter that more abundantly came from him. I am thankful for the role he will take as Tio to little Auggi. I am thankful for him.

Thank you, Bobby... and Happy Birthday, Tio!

We love you... old man!