Rocky Family Picture Shoot.

This post has nothing to do with Rocky, the movie, or The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but we sometimes have a rocky family and we most definitely did have a picture shoot.


Yesterday I had the pleasure of taking my two daughters, boyfriends in tow to my parents house, where I made them the most fantastic Chicken Salad for dinner, then I was blessed with taking some of their pictures.

If I would have been more prepared, I would have done a decent background.

I ♥ this.

Goofballs.

Ahhhh, love.

Make a funny face.

This is the happiest I've ever seen my sister.

Looks like they have a secret.  Cute!

It was a great night, and I hope to do a more formal one where I can have backdrops and such soon.


See y'all tomorrow.
Marisa

Baby Brother from the Same Mother.

Well now that you've gotten to know my sisters, well a couple of them anyways, let me introduce you to, my mom's youngest, her only blood son, my youngest brother, my pseudo-baby.

♥Jeffery♥

When baby sister Sara was just a month and half old, my mom, let's call her Mrs. Horny McReallyfertile, got pregnant with my baby brother.  Finally, after having three girls, my mom got a boy, breaking they cycle of girl grandchildren that wouldn't carry on the family name.  Since Sara was still so young, and quite the handful when he came along, he would become my real life cabbage patch doll.  I was 13 and done playing with Barbies, and wanted to move on to something a little bit more realistic.  Okay, I never played Barbies, I cut their hair, but never really got into them any farther than that.  I may or may not have used the head of one to be a firecracker holder once.  Anyways, back to my baby brother.  His life sucked as a child, with three older sisters to use him as a makeover doll, or use his cuteness against our mother to get things, she would tell us no for.  You know, it's what you do as an older sister.  I had a back story on this kid too, as to his "real origin".  Our mom had taken us to the circus, and when they left, they left him all alone with a note that read, "We don't want  him, you can have him".  Our own little Joe Dirt.  Sheesh, I really was mean.  Although, given all that grief, that little boy has grown into a man I'm proud to call my brother.  Sweet, thoughtful, chivalrous, loyal and gunshot survivor are just a few of the many words I could use to describe this kid.  He's always a gentleman, he has a HUGE heart and he's all mine.............and my sisters.....and I guess my mom's.

Two and half years ago, I got a heart-breaking call, from my mom, that my baby brother had been shot.  He was at the house of a friend, when a couple of rowdy people were asked to leave, they refused.  My brother, a friend and the man of the house, removed them, they got angry, came back and shot my brother and one other guy.  That other guy, was not as lucky as my brother and died instantly.  My brother would then go through surgery to remove quite a few buck shot from his body, some of which were very close to arteries.  A little bit of my soul died that day and I told my brother to never scare me like that happen again, or I would put him over my knee and whoop his ass, just like when he was little.  So far, so good.

His whole life he's had this look of total innocence.  It was used to my and his advantage more than once.

And always willing to give a smile, even if he didn't mean it or want to.

Can't you just picture the halo above his head?  That innocence is temporary, trust me.

Even in his down times, he could make a room fun.

I honestly don't think I have ONE picture without a smile.

That's a good lookin' kid, right there.

He can always lighten, the darkest of days.  And this day, was pretty dark.

He really is a ray of sunshine on any day.  When you're down, he'll bring you up.  He's my kid brother and I'm glad the circus left him.

I have to pack for camping, so, I'm out!

Marisa

Baby sister, from another mister.

Oh my goodness, where to start here.  I can tell you that it's a good thing I have such a big heart, because I have a lot of people to love, and lots of siblings to call my best friend.  I can honestly say that all of my siblings are my friends,  my best friends.  Here's the story of one of my best friends.  Mine, not yours.  All mine.

♥Sara♥

My mom really should have names her Scara, because from the get go, she would find ways to scare us.  When she was just a little one, she was diagnosed with Juvenile RA, the doctors told my mom that she would, by the age of eight, probably be in a wheelchair.  Boy were they wrong, thankfully so.  When she was a bit older than that, she scared us again with tumors in her fingers.  Luckily they weren't cancerous and she never got them again, once they were removed.  A few words to describe her?  Funny, quick witted, honest, fabulously stylish and loving.  Seriously I could throw adjectives down, all day long, but that would be redundant and totally not my style.  Ha!

Now, I told you what I used to tell the middle sister about her "real" origin.  Well, once Nessa was old enough to be an accomplice, I revealed that she wasn't really an unwanted kid that we got stuck with.  After doing this, I enlisted her to help me convince Sara, that she was in fact, an Ethiopian child that we had adopted.  Little kids are sooooooooooooo gullible.  We told her that while watching a, Sally Struthers Feed the Children commercial, our mother had called up to adopt an Ethiopian baby, without the knowledge that they would actually send a baby.  You see Sara has always been a bean pole, tall and very thin.  Jealous?  Me?  Maybe a little.  So with Nessa's help, we had that poor little girl thinking, that she was once a starving baby from another country.  Man, writing this, I realize how mean of a big sister I was.  They were so lucky to have me.

Now that she's all grown up, with two terribly handsome boys, she's forgiven me for all my torment and has become my best friend.  You can really never have too many, if they're the right kind.  And Sister, your the right kind.

This was pre-beanpole days.  Such a cutie.

She's was always great for posing for pictures.

Or she was focused on something else entirely.

Even as a teen, she had a sense of creativity and color.  And an obsession with stars and pictures of herself.

She was always a willing candidate for a full on candid posed shot.

She never outgrew the obsession with stars, as you can see from her ink work.  And she's my only sister that looks good in my moms hot pink lipstick.  And I'm okay with that.

And she still knows how to pose for a picture.

 

And she always has flare.

I'm so glad my mom made that call to Sally Struthers, or else I wouldn't have this baby sister.

Til the next sibling....

Marisa

My Middle Sister from another Mister

I am the oldest of ten children.  I know, it makes my head spin too.  It's kind of a complicated story, well not really, it just seem like a lot of words.  But I'll tell you that story later.  For now, It's all about my moms middle daughter, my sister, my best friend, mine mine mine...

♥Annessa♥

If my mom has a kid that completely abides by the rules, it's this kid.  Don't get me wrong, she's no angel, thank god, but she is by far, the most well behaved of my moms kids.  She is; down to earth, studying to be a nurse, hockey mom, earth angel to many of our vets at the VA hospital where she works, absolute goofball, army wife, my younger sister, the middle one.  There is a ton more to her, but it would take hours to tell you it all.  When she was little I used to tell her that our mom used to babysit her, and one day her parents never came to pick her up, and that was how she came to be my sister.  Bitch move?  Yes, but I was the older sister, wasn't I supposed to do this?  

I was eight when she was delivered by the stork. Her dad, much like mine, wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of fatherhood, and we then became figments of their imagination, still are I think.  That was the first of a bazillion things we have in common, besides DNA.  We are both raising two girls, of course hers are much younger than mine, so you can imagine how useful I am to her.

I so wish I could just pop over to her house right now and hang out, but unfortunately she lives on the opposite coast as me, but we talk, often.  Sometimes everyday, for days in a row.  Ohhh, when will they invent teleporters?   Weren't we supposed to have them by now?  Man, the Jetsons were bullshit!

Am I the only one that pushed the kid sisters around in one of these walkers.  I miss them.  I also miss pushing her down the stairs in one.  Just kidding.  Mostly.

My little sister at two, she doesn't even annoy me yet.

This was about the time I told my sister where she "really" came from.

By this time, I had other siblings to mess with, so I told her truth of her origin, so she could help convince the others the "real" story of their origins.

I wish I had more of these pictures, I'll have to bug the sisters and the mom to find more.  All three of us sister decided we needed comb overs.  It was fantastic.

My sister and I.  This is after I had moved out and it was the first time we'd seen each other in a couple months.

Look at her.  Gorgeous right?  Bitch!

This pretty much sums up our relationship. :)

She's my little sister and I wouldn't give her up.  Not even if her real parents came back to get her.

So long.

Marisa