It’s hard to imagine that 31 years ago today I awoke to my Dad cooking pancakes. That’s right. The man that to this day never cooks had the box of Bisquick out with a little maple syrup and some butter and was fixing a feast of pancakes.
At the time this sight made a bigger impression on my three-year-old mind that what had taken place at 2:31am that morning – the birth of my brother. Who needs a crying baby when you’ve got pancakes?
When I arrived at preschool that morning, and was asked what had happened at my house, I proudly proclaimed that my dad had cooked pancakes. Ryan didn’t seem real until three days later when he came home.
I came home from school and Ryan was in a baby buggy. Of course, I immediately wanted to hold him. I remember sitting with my back against the cushions on the couch as my mom explained how fragile babies can be, and then put a sleeping Ryan into my lap. His head was a solid white fuzz ball. He had a lot of hair, and it had a lot of static electricity in it, giving it a kind of Einstein appearance. Ryan woke up, took one look at me, and began to yell at the top of his lungs.
It set the tone for the next 18 years of our sibling relationship.
Ryan and I have always had a bad case of sibling rivalry. To some extent we still do. We tormented one another endlessly. Somewhere there’s a tape of Ryan’s first birthday. He opens a present and I promptly steal it from him. He screams “MINE” and I carry off the toy only to be scolded by our mom. As a teenager, my mom blackmailed me on several occasions with threats to play that tape. Grin.
But as much as Ryan and I fought (and that was almost all the time) when the chips were down we were each other’s best friend. As a military family, we moved every three years. Every new school brought new kids with new reasons to tease us both. We looked out for one another and played together until we both started to settle into the new school and make new friends of our own.
As adults, Ryan and I are closer than ever. If anything, I’m too much of a mother hen where he’s concerned. I’m too quick to butt my nose in and offer my opinion, wanted or not.
When the film crew interviewed me, they asked me that had something to do with Ryan – something like isn’t it great to have a sibling that understands HPS.
To be honest, it’s not great at all. I wish Ryan didn’t need to understand HPS.
During our childhood, when it seemed our biggest obstacles were the ordinary things that go along with albinism, that might have been true. We always had each other no matter what.
But the hardest thing I ever had to do in life was tell Ryan he had HPS.
Thankfully, Ryan is pretty much symptom-free, minus a bleeding tendency and albinism, of course. He’s 31, well established in his career, smart as a whip, outgoing, friendly and handsome when he wears a suit. Grin!
Ryan jokes that this is actually the second anniversary of his 29th birthday. I hope he has many, many more happy and healthy such anniversaries to celebrate!
Happy Birthday Ryan!
(This actually took me a little longer to write with the hand…..)
At the time this sight made a bigger impression on my three-year-old mind that what had taken place at 2:31am that morning – the birth of my brother. Who needs a crying baby when you’ve got pancakes?
When I arrived at preschool that morning, and was asked what had happened at my house, I proudly proclaimed that my dad had cooked pancakes. Ryan didn’t seem real until three days later when he came home.
I came home from school and Ryan was in a baby buggy. Of course, I immediately wanted to hold him. I remember sitting with my back against the cushions on the couch as my mom explained how fragile babies can be, and then put a sleeping Ryan into my lap. His head was a solid white fuzz ball. He had a lot of hair, and it had a lot of static electricity in it, giving it a kind of Einstein appearance. Ryan woke up, took one look at me, and began to yell at the top of his lungs.
It set the tone for the next 18 years of our sibling relationship.
Ryan and I have always had a bad case of sibling rivalry. To some extent we still do. We tormented one another endlessly. Somewhere there’s a tape of Ryan’s first birthday. He opens a present and I promptly steal it from him. He screams “MINE” and I carry off the toy only to be scolded by our mom. As a teenager, my mom blackmailed me on several occasions with threats to play that tape. Grin.
But as much as Ryan and I fought (and that was almost all the time) when the chips were down we were each other’s best friend. As a military family, we moved every three years. Every new school brought new kids with new reasons to tease us both. We looked out for one another and played together until we both started to settle into the new school and make new friends of our own.
As adults, Ryan and I are closer than ever. If anything, I’m too much of a mother hen where he’s concerned. I’m too quick to butt my nose in and offer my opinion, wanted or not.
When the film crew interviewed me, they asked me that had something to do with Ryan – something like isn’t it great to have a sibling that understands HPS.
To be honest, it’s not great at all. I wish Ryan didn’t need to understand HPS.
During our childhood, when it seemed our biggest obstacles were the ordinary things that go along with albinism, that might have been true. We always had each other no matter what.
But the hardest thing I ever had to do in life was tell Ryan he had HPS.
Thankfully, Ryan is pretty much symptom-free, minus a bleeding tendency and albinism, of course. He’s 31, well established in his career, smart as a whip, outgoing, friendly and handsome when he wears a suit. Grin!
Ryan jokes that this is actually the second anniversary of his 29th birthday. I hope he has many, many more happy and healthy such anniversaries to celebrate!
Happy Birthday Ryan!
(This actually took me a little longer to write with the hand…..)
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