Monday, February 26, 2007

Multiples of 7

This is my aunt story and it actually begins in July, when my brother and his I'm-not-sure-what-to-call-her (they say their married, but had no ceremony, so I just call her by her first name, Lureen) came to my neck of the woods. This was my first meeting of Lureen. She seemed nice, but my brother is a train wreck, so anyone attracted to him brings their own special funk to the mix. A week after I met her I got a phone call at 5:30 in the morning informing me I was an aunt. They just found out they were pregnant. I wish I could tell you I was happy for them, but I honestly felt nothing but dread for that poor little fetus. At this time my brother was convinced that Jesus was really the devil tricking the world, and that multiples of 7 were God's blessing. At any moment he could tell you all the multiples of 7 in his own life (they were always these crazy math problems that never made sense like: 9+3+2/2 is how he knew his apartment was blessed). Lucky for me he lives several hours a way, so I didn't see him often.

In September they found out they were having twins. Again all I could think of was those poor children. Lureen has a child of her own, a 7 y.o with Down Syndrome and I couldn't imagine how they were going to handle twins. My brother also decided in November to stop working, so he could relax before the babies came. Somehow they managed on unemployment, but if I think about this for too long I go crazy. My brother also decided to name his children Racer and Ryder because they were going to be motor cross riders. I asked him once what he would do if the boys did not want to race and he replied, "Kids will do what ever their parents tell them to." And he was not kidding.

Before this blessed event took place my mother and I worked out a system (or so I thought). She would call me once when Lureen went into labor, and I would not answer the phone if it was middle of the night. Let me tell you what happened.

The first of many calls came at 4:30 Wednesday morning. It was my brother telling me Lureen may be in labor. Then my mother called me to repeat this information. For the next two hours my phone rang about 20 times. By the time I answered the phone all I could say was stop calling me I have to go to work. Unfortunately that has never stopped my mother. I think she reached an all new high for phone calls in one day (I think she reached 25). Did I mention I had an important presentation first thing in the morning? Well I did and it pretty much sucked ass.

The babies were born about 5:30pm. Racer came first, then Ryder. They were almost 7 pounds each, and were about 20 inches long. All I know is that everyone was healthy, and my mother hated Lureen's mother (this was their first meeting). I actually heard more about that then I did the actual birthing. Both my mother and father attended the blessed event, but my father booked it right after the babies were born (smart man). I drove up on Friday. I really wanted to stay in a hotel room. Instead I was placed on an air mattress in the nursery, and had the joy of getting woken up and stepped on when ever a baby needed to be changed. It will be along time before I go back.

The babies are fine. My brother is convinced that if he keeps them up during the day they would sleep at night. Did I mention they are only 5 days old? I tried to explain how much sleep babies need, but he didn't believe me. He is convinced they will be on a schedule any day now.

Highlights from my trip include watching my brother yell at his 7 y.o. stepson for putting on a pink pair of socks ("boys don't wear pink!"). He also yelled at him for giving him a kiss too (I believe what he yelled was, "boys don't kiss"). I also got to hear in excruciating detail how Lureen's rectum was all messed up from the delivery. I tried to walk away, and I tried to change the subject, but in the end all I could do was seek out my happy place.

During one midnight changing my brother came into the nursery (aka my room) and mentioned he might be wrong about the whole Jesus-is- the-devil thing. Given the fact that his babies were born on Ash Wednesday, and their birthday is a multiple of 7 (how he figured that out I can't begin to imagine) he thinks JC may be OK. He mentioned he may have to rethink the whole Catholics-are-going-to-hell-for-believing-false-Gods. I made the stupid mistake of asking "Why only Catholics?" To which he replied, "They're the only ones that believe in Jesus." and then walked out of the room. All I could do was go back to reading my book. I also got to drive my mother home. Needless to say she traveled with 3 jamba juices and one big gulp of soda, all were spilled at one time or another in my car. And I got to hear her reasons why Oprah's leadership academy will fail, and how parakeets exercise/eat/groom/sleep.

Someone once asked me if I was excited to be the aunt, and if my brother was going to be a great dad. I told them with my brother it will end up going one of two ways. My brother will get all Tyler Perry and have fatherhood make him a man, or he will kidnap the babies, move to Idaho and join a white supremacist group. It's really any ones guess.

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