Stop!

If you think you've got it bad, imagine being one in ten siblings. To push the blade deeper, try being the ninth sibling of seven brothers and two sisters. Yes, it finally makes sense! That explains my thick skin. My cynicism. My comedy act. My selective hearing. My no tolerance act. This is why I am utterly crazy out of my gourd.

In my great attempt to coordinate my parents 50th Wedding Anniversary along with the crazy nine, it's a flippin' nightmare! Like a bunch of vultures pecking at my brain, everything from invitations, invite list, favors, to paying for the event is complete warfare. Apparently, as it is normal with any family, drama has unveiled it's turdish features. My youngest brother, Nolan, has a newborn along with two other cuties and his wife is finishing her nursing program. Totally excusable. The others, not worth mentioning, are making everyone else's situation difficult than need be.

Shellie's Proverb: An ox is as stubborn as his tail.


Exhale. Take a deep breath. It's just frustrating when we're flippin' trekking our way back home. Siblings forget how expensive it is to fly home, rent a car, rent a place at the same time maintain our monthly bills. I could've invested the cost for this trip to go to Italy or Costa Rica, but I just zip it. Do they forget that this is our parents 50th Wedding Anniversary? Do they give a shit? Seriously, why can't people put aside they're gripes? Our parents busted their asses to raise us and we can't even be cohesive to make this work.

I'm just really sad. Sad is the word. Mom and dad have worked so damn hard to raise us. So what, they weren't the perfect parents. Whose are? I feel as adults that we should put aside our differences and progress. It just sucks. I surrender. My white flag is up for the taking.

Lesson: A grasshopper must learn to play with others before he can play with himself.