This weekend, my baby brother will be tying the knot. In honor of this, I’m going to give you all a blow-by-blow account of what we’ve done to prepare. Well, sort of. The bride’s family is taking care of everything really, so we haven’t done that much.
Over the weekend, my sister and I had our hair done (so it would look fresh for the wedding). Then it was a trip to the nail salon for pedicures and nails. Meanwhile, my dog was at the groomer. The four of us (my mom, sister, dog, and myself) are all groomed and ready for the wedding. Or are we?
Phillip, my brother, is the only boy and the baby of the family. I was six years old when he was born and I remember praying every day for a brother. I’d had enough of sisters – they weren’t any fun. I wanted a baby brother to love and cuddle. The day he was born, I remember going to the hospital with my stepdad and sister to see him. He was…enormous. Phillip was 11 lbs, 15 oz. and 23 inches long. He had thick, black hair and looked a little like E.T.
We joke now that he was born with teeth, but he was just so cute. He was allergic to milk, so he was on a soy milk formula for the first year of his life. This didn’t slow his growth at all. He grew by leaps and bounds, looking four years older than he actually was. The shine of having a new baby brother wore off quick. I had a social life…across the street at my friend’s house. But I couldn’t visit with her much since Phillip was attached to me.
It never got any better, so it shouldn’t have been any surprise that he became my best friend. We’ve played Voltron, G.I. Joe, Nintendo, He-Man and She-Ra together. We were inseparable. He wasn’t just my brother, or friend, I sometimes feel like he’s my own child.
Now, before I start getting off on a tangent, my point to this post is Phillip didn’t have just one mom. My sister is fourteen years older than him, so she was like a second mom to him. His godmother had two daughters born on either side of him and they all spent a lot of time together. She was his third mother. And then I became like his mom as well.
Our concern for the wedding? He’ll have four women blubbering over him. My mom says the only way she’ll be able to get through the ceremony is to recall that this union will give her more grandchildren. My sister doesn’t have a plan other than to try to stick it out. My aunt…well, I don’t know how she’ll manage. He’s the son she never had so I think she might get a little teary-eyed. As for me? I’m just praying I don’t start bawling on the altar. I mean, I’m supposed to be a groomswoman, I need to present a solemn and stoic air…I think. I’ll cry afterwards at the reception.
So I’m dedicating this post to my baby brother, Phillip Charles, who has tormented me, supported me, and taken my sisterly teasing for 27 years. I love you, Phee-Phee!