Things My Sisters Taught Me

As I prepare myself for this baby that's coming, I have been contemplating all the things I have learned as I have worked with kids. Specifically, all the things I have learned from watching my sisters deal with their children over the years. There are many years, refer the All About Me tab.

The first thing that comes to mind, my sister Jess taught me. As a little bit of background, my sister had terrible, and I mean TERRIBLE pregnancies. She was hospitalized at certain points, had IV's in her at home, and had a pump for I believe two of her pregnancies to put medicine into her so she was able to keep some sort of food and water in her system. She's my hero. Compared to her, my pregnancy is a walk in the park and my last post was dedicated to complaining about it. Wimp...I know. If I had pregnancies like her, I'd be adopting any children after this one. Thank goodness the Lord knows I'm a pansy and has graciously given me a normal pregnancy! Anyway, she did this four, yes, FOUR times. Her kids are spaced out so that she had at least one going through the terrible two's when she was at her worst part of the sickness. I was probably 12 at the time and I had gone down to stay with her and help watch her oldest little girl while she was sick.

Terrible picture of me, adorable picture of Eliza. Growing up did me wonders. haha. This was right around the time of this story. 2001? Maybe?

She was laying on the couch while we talked and her daughter played. She all of a sudden stopped in our conversation and said, "Eliza is too quiet. You should go check on her." I always thought that a quiet kid was a good thing because you hear complain about the noise level of children. I learned that day that, with girls especially, quiet is hardly ever good.

I walked down the hall and checked in her room. She was no where to be found. I checked in my sisters room knowing Eliza had a fondness for playing in there, but the door was locked. The house was small, so there was only one other room in the house that she could be in...my room.

I opened the door slowly and a small lump under the covers on my bed froze. Thinking she was merely hiding from me, I started to play with her saying, "Hmmm....where could Eliza be?" To which I heard a bunch of giggles. I said, "Maybe she's in the closest!" And I opened it, knowing she wasn't there and heard more giggles come from under the blanket. "Maybe she's under the chair!" More giggles. "Oh well, I guess she's not in here." And then I collapsed on the bed, making a big fuss about how there was a lump in my covers, which of course go the most giggles from this not yet 2 year old. As I pulled the covers back, I found she wasn't just hiding herself from me. She was hiding what she was doing from me.

I was only 12 and not really sure what to do with make up. I had it, but didn't use it. Anyway, Eliza loved make up, especially this liquid blue eyeliner that I had (again, I didn't know anything about make up and no I don't use liquid blue eyeliner now). I had foolishly left my make up bag on the dresser where she could easily reach. She had taken the eyeliner out and was using it as lipstick...under the covers...and she's not even 2, so it wasn't just on her lips. It was on her cheeks, her hands, the sheets, her clothes and pretty much anywhere else imaginable.

It was adorable. I couldn't help but laugh. She looked so stinkin' cute with her bright blue eyes, which were now accentuated because of all the blue on her pale skin, and her bright blonde hair.

I love this story. It's probably one of my favorite stories about Eliza. And it taught me a very, very important lesson that I have never forgotten: When kids are too quiet, it's never good.

A more recent photo of the both of us. 2012.