Survivor Story: A Tale of the Youngest Sibling

I'm part of the Grubi Clan, a sub species of race that are half martian and half human, at least that's what my family told me when I was maybe six or seven years old. To this day, at 28 years of age, I still believe that to be true. How else could I explain the unique nature of the family that raised me, the youngest, with two much older and wiser brothers? The Griswolds and the Kardashians are also descendants of this special breed of people recognizable by bubbly derrieres or fake wood-detailed station wagons. So what was it like growing up with such a family you ask? Well, I survived.

"The Goo-Goo Drop" was just the beginning...

As a parent myself, I cringe at the thought of my kids performing "The Goo Goo Drop" without nets. Here is how it's performed. Subject A (older brother) would hold Subject B (little sister) as high as he could in the air. The little toddler girl would scream "Goo GOOOOOO!" Subject A would then let go of Subject B, catching her the last second before Subject B became floor splatter. This death defying trick was lovingly nicknamed "The Goo Goo Drop". My oldest brother, Matt, never dropped me (as far as I know). Thankfully I survived my toddler years, well besides the time I almost got eaten by an iguana, but that's another story.

Thus, I grew from being the adorable little girl to the annoying little "princess" as my brothers lovingly referred to me. From six to twelve, I survived the "The Dark Years". This part of my life is comparable to the fith and sixth Harry Potter novels. Instead of Voldemort, I had my second to oldest brother, Mark. Instead of a kindly old wizard, there was the school janitor who always gave me candy (which kind of creeps me out thinking back on it).

Mark used to practice for his school sports with me. I know you're thinking, how sweet. No, no, no. It was torture. First was wrestling. I nicknamed our practice sessions "Big Foot". Really I don't know why. Neither of us were hairy or had big feet. Anywho, Mark would practice his wrestling moves with me and instead of simply pinning me...well, he'd toot on my face. That was a blast, or should I say, a gas! Ba Ha! Then he joined hockey. I'd get to wear all of Mark's sweaty smelly hockey gear and stand in front of the staircase while he shot pucks at my head. That was great fun. Good times. My only saving grace was my oldest brother, Matt. Screaming "Maaaatttt" at the top of my lungs always brought him charging into the room where he'd headlock Mark and administer an awesome noogie.

Don't let the below pictures fool you. When the camera was on, we were all smiles and hugs. Off camera...whew. Torturer #1 on the left: Matt Torturer #2 on the right: Mark

I'm really working with my therapist to unlock more early childhood memories. The trauma was just too great that I've buried the memories deep within my subconscious. "Princess" they called me. HA!