April 17, 2006

Happy Birthday Frankie!!

My youngest brother, Frankie turned 15 years old today. This officially makes me old at 27.

Frankie was born on April 17, 1991. I remember when my mom told my brother Nathan my sister Rachel and me that she was expecting a baby. My first thought was, “Another sibling to drive me batty?? Aren’t two enough?” My second thought was, “Aren’t you too old to have a baby?”. I know that’s harsh, but just remember I was 12 and she was 39. So I didn’t know any better. The day they brought Artie home from the hospital, I was in love with his adorable smile and cute little dimples. I thought he was cuter than my other two siblings.

I loved giving him his bottle and playing the Peek-a-boo games. It was taking care of Frankie, that confirmed I did in fact want children someday. He was the sweetest little chunk monster. (He was almost 10 pounds when he was born!) When he was a little older, I’d take him for bike rides with me. He loved riding in the baby seat. I also learned about how stupid other people were back then, too. I was at the park with Frankie and a woman asked me if he was my son. I was thinking, “Lady, I’m 12 and I am NEVER having sex, so NO this is NOT my son.” But it didn’t stop there. She actually accused me of lying and told me that I shouldn’t be ashamed at being a teen mother. I started to cry. Didn’t she know this was my BROTHER? It’s kind of funny looking back on it now.

In a way, I was kind of like a second mother to Frankie. My parents both worked, so I did a lot of “child rearing”. I taught him how to use the potty chair, how to brush his teeth, how to tie his shoes and how to read. He followed me every where I went in the neighborhood. He was like a permanent fixture in my room, too. He always wanted to “sleep in your big girl bed so the monsters don’t get me.” How could I say no?

I remember what a comic Frankie was and still is. When he was three or four years old, we bought him a child’s golf set. He insisted on playing with the things every day. Once he was in the living room, lining the golf ball up with the “animal head” that you hit the ball into. I laughed and asked him if he knew what he was doing. He let out the most irritated sigh and said, “Of course I do! I’m a pro-vegetable! Shh! I’m putting!” I think he meant to say that he was a professional. I still smile when I think of that day.

So, the pro-vegetable has grown up. He’s in ninth grade and he wants to be an architect. He’ll spend all day designing floor plans and exteriors of houses. I’m in awe when I look at his drawings. He has such talent. I told him when he’s a famous architect/designer for “Extreme Home Make-Over”, he can design a home for me with one room full of computers and shelving for all my writing and scrapbooking projects. He agreed.

Happy Birthday Frankie! I love you!

Posted by Dana @ 9:39 am • Relative Chaos