Thursday, May 11, 2006

It's lightning out and the people are walking sidewards

My brother was constant entertainment growing up. He talked in his sleep, walked in his sleep, was hyper and got into many funny predicaments, and if all else failed he would beat us up to keep us busy. Being the only boy, he got his own spacious room while the three of us girls shared one the size of a closet. My father built him a "captain's bed", right into the wall. It was very high and had several drawers. At the foot it extended into a desk with more drawers. Underneath was a small crawl space that was fun to play in, and later became storage. Lovely bed, but the wrong child to sleep in it. Children that sleepwalk should not be in a bed that is six feet off the floor, just so you know. We would hear a loud CRASH in the middle of the night, think "Oh, brother fell out of bed again" and go back to sleep - if there weren't any screams for help or crying or anything. He liked to be wrapped tightly in his blankets with them tucked in all around him (think cocoon stuck to a branch LOL). Well, once he managed to roll off the bed but the sheet was still tucked in. Wrapped like a pig in a blanket and hanging four feet off the ground, unable to move. Not sure how long he called for help before somebody woke up to come to the rescue. He had a bad habit of not closing his drawers all the way. More than once he fell out of bed, and smacked his head on a drawer corner on the way down. We used to call him "crash". He's had more stitches than frankenstein. He could hurt himself doing absolutely nothing. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count all the times he cracked his head open, cut himself, burned himself, got poked in the eye, broke teeth, and more. Partly he was clumsy. And rowdy. He made bad decisions. And I think he was more than a little unlucky. One summer he and his friends were throwing rocks at a bumble bee nest, a ground nest in the field near our house. A lucky shot split that nest wide open, and out poured a dark cloud of ANGRY. They ran as fast as they could, but it was not fast enough. He knew he wasn't SUPPOSED to go near that nest, and he knew he would be in trouble. So instead of going home he hid in the back yard. My parents found him behind the shed, whimpering, eyes swollen shut and tongue so swollen he could barely breathe. I would like to say he learned his lesson, but a few weeks after that he broke through our screen door being chased by angry hornets. Did you know that hornets can sting MANY MORE THAN one time? And when they are particularly upset at a little boy those stings leave holes? If somebody was going to climb on the roof and fall off, it was him. Sure, we might have jointly come up with the idea of jumping into the pool from the roof, but he was the one that actually tried it and slid down the shingles (shingleburn), hit the gutter and broke it off (fractured ankle and cut down leg) then fell unceremoniously to the concrete patio below (broken arm and LOT'S of bruises). "Are you okay or do we have to tell mom and dad?" ROFL. We didn't want to get in TROUBLE now did we? The idea to jump off the roof of the next door neighbours shed into the pool was entirely his own idea though. It was a shabby rickety old thing right next to the fence, which was right next to the pool. It was a simple idea. Climb onto the fence, get on the shed, and JUMP. Only he stepped on a nail sticking out of the fence (tetanus shot), scraped his leg on the side of the shed (stitches), and when he pushed off to jump the entire shed collapsed, trapping him in the rubble (lots more little cuts, splinters, and a concussion). He also broke his collar bone jumping from the top of the pool slide into the shallow end. Hmmmm. Seems to me maybe we should have gotten rid of the pool before he killed himself. I know a lot of people that have fallen UP the stairs, but he is the only person I know that managed to cut his head open doing so (right above the eyebrow). Not far from the scar he aquired when a "friend" of his hit him in the head with a bucket trying to douse him during a water fight. A few inches away from the scar he got after sliding on the hallway carpet and splitting his head open on the corner of the wall. And directly across from a particularly good one caused by the corner of a drawer ;). While mom never ventured to administer the stitches themselves, after a while she started taking them out herself after the required number of days. Being a nurse, it was within her abilities and frankly we were spending far too much time in the emergency room. The triage nurse knew us by our first names for goodness sakes. After the umpteenth visit in almost as many days, child services was alerted by a new employee. They separated us from our parents and started asking questions. Do you parents hurt you? Do they watch you when you play? And so on. I am sure more would have come of it (I can only imagine what we were telling them ROFL) if it wasn't for my brother falling off his chair during his interview and biting through his own lip. Four adults from social services child protection with him in a practically empty room and he manages to hurt himself - no way were they touching that one. Case closed! My brother is now "an old bachelor". He will be 37 this summer, and has chosen not to get married or have kids of his own. He says he has enough nieces and nephews to bequeath his earthly posessions and likes his freedom. Plus he is too picky. Lord forbid a woman have a mole, or a bit of a butt, or an opinion. He's only had two or three girlfriends (and only one was really serious). I think maybe between my mother and us sisters we ruined him, scared him off the whole relationship thing LOL. The women in my family are all crazy (I am no exception - again, you may send DH sympathy cards later). For all the teasing he did to us, it is finally catching up with him so now we tease HIM mercilessly - because that is what loved ones DO. He is balding. He is getting a "middle". Pretty soon he might need glasses to read. Oh, the joys! We have been waiting so long LOLOLOL. We tease him that he probably wouldn't be able to have kids anyway, not with all those x-rays he got as a kid. Of course, he hasn't stopped being clumsy, rowdy, unlucky, and still makes poor decisions. He has taken dirtbiking and fourwheeling as a hobby. He and a group of cousins and other family (including my father and an uncle) go trail riding several times in the summer, all over Canada and the U.S. Last summer he was riding merrily along then WHAMMO. He said it felt like somebody hit him with a hammer. His bike kept going. It took him a bit to realize that he wasn't standing on his own feet. He managed to become impaled on an exposed tree root! They cut the root and draped him across a four wheeler (rather like a shot deer) and brought him to an aid station. He recovered fine, but for his birthday we chipped in and got him a chest protector. Because if somebody was going to get hurt that way (or any other way) again, it was going to be HIM. The title of the post: He talks in his sleep. One time, we were camping in the popup trailer when he said that line. We giggled for over an hour, and bring it up all the time even though it was over 25 years ago. No pics today, it's too wet outside and too messy inside ROFL.

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