Where you go, I go: Sweet Sixteen

There's this ridiculous idea floating around the world, and like most ridiculous ideas, it annoys me.
..That people with multiple siblings aren't close to all their siblings--that they can't be close.

Silly. Ridiculous. Foolish. Uneducated.

I claim that I have a one sibling relationship with all my siblings. We all have our own, separate relationships and I love them all dearly. They are all special to me. Each one of them has something about them that adds an unique dynamic to our relationship.

Summary: I ADORE my siblings.

My sister Birdie is six and a half years younger than me, sibling number 5 to my number 1, and my little sister. I changed her diapers. I carted her around and played my favorite pretend games of hide the children from the Nazis. [I read far too much and deeply for my age.] When she was a toddler she would wet her bed and then climb in mine and wet mine. When we were a little older, we shared a room. I messed it up; she cleaned it. When she started sports, I bought her all the cute Target work out clothes that every high school girl needs. And she has the most awesome birth story of all time. Child was born on the front lawn.

My little sister is turning sixteen this year. She's an amazing near-sixteen year old. She's beautiful, kind, hilarious, bright, and is the only Manthei sibling blessed with our mother's long legs. She's far more assured and confident than I was at her age. And I'm throwing her a 16th birthday party. When I was almost 16, I was so excited. I had a strange notion that it would turn my life upside down, that it would mean more travel, excitement, and the rhythms of my life would be unsettled.

All of those things did happen, for a horrible, horrible reason. My dad died five days before my sixteenth birthday. I had to remind the people helping my mom planning the funeral that my birthday was that Saturday, so if they could avoid having the funeral on my birthday. Dreadful story, I know. So, sixteenth birthday parties are something...special to me. So Miss Birdie is getting a party. A fun, happy, tear-free party.

Birdie was an adorable nine year old then. Button nosed and freckled with her trade mark green-brown eyes and hatred of potatoes. But now it's her turn to turn sixteen and I am so excited. My little sister, my roomate, the sibling who can rival me in writing, and my little girl--she's turning sixteen. And she's getting a birthday party.