Sisterly Love

I always wanted a sister. I have a brother, which isn’t bad…if you don’t mind holding a football perfectly still while he practices kicking field goals a million times. I did come out of the experience with all my fingers still attached. But seriously, though, having a brother does have its perks. I learned to wrestle, I learned that hunting small game (you know, rabbits, pheasants, squirrels) is one of the most boring past times around, and I learned that there’s no one better than an older brother to stand up for you during those middle-school bullying years.

Despite all the perks of having a brother, I still wanted a sister. I imagined it to be like one big slumber party. We’d share clothes, make-up, secrets, homework answers. We’d double-date and make up cheerleading routines, and complain about our strict curfews.

So you can imagine my excitement when I found out that I was going to have two little girls. Sisters. Sweet, amazing, happy, little sisters. We have been so blessed by these two little girls. They are only 21- months apart, they look alike, they are sweet and spunky and so amazing. I have visions of two little girls in (clean) white dresses, holding hands and giggling as they run through a field of daisies. I’ve been documenting the sisterly love of these two little girls and I have found an interesting thing…

A quiet, peaceful, moment like this…

Quickly turns into “Sister Smackdown” (as my friend Gretchen so tastefully put it)

And it always ends badly for someone (note the content smile on Kate’s face…doesn’t she seem a little too happy about the situation)?

So where’s the sisterly love, people? I tried dressing them in cute little dresses, but that just turned into “Sister Smackdown II,” complete with tackling...

And hair pulling.

Is this a sign of what’s to come? Will we experience “Sister Smackdown X” during prom dress shopping? Should I put away my visions of daisy fields and slumber parties? All you sisters out there…tell me the truth. I need to prepare myself. Maybe being a football place holder wasn’t such a bad thing?!?

Let's Party...

To blog or not to blog? That seems to be the big question these days. Once again, I think I’m a little late to the party. In typical Holly fashion, I spent too much time primping and changing my clothes, or in this case, worrying about online safety and wondering how to make my blog look pretty, instead of just running a brush through my hair, putting on some lip gloss, and walking out the door. But join the party, I have (finally). Welcome to my blog, a little messy and rumpled, not exactly beautiful, but filled with potential – a little like me.

Filled with potential is how I’d like to think of myself. I’m 33-years-old, Wife to Steve, Mom to Kate and Ellie (and Bentley the Black Lab who runs amuck in our house). I love, love, love my life and yet it feels like there’s something more out there. Something I need to do, to become, to accomplish. Like everything else, though, I’ve been over thinking it (fooling with hot rollers, changing my clothes again) instead of just doing it. Maybe, as we share stories of motherhood, dreams from our past, and hopes for what is still to come, I’ll figure out exactly what is calling me. It’s time to put the blow dryer down and get serious.

Won’t you come to this blogging party with me? Better late than never, they say. Just run a brush through your hair, put on some lip gloss, and you’re good to go!