No Longer a Baby

Twenty years and some odd hours ago, God put a baby girl on this planet who would grow up into one of the most compassionate souls you ever did meet. I remember it vividly–I was at Jared Cox’s sixth birthday party bouncing on the trampoline when I received the news. But it would take years before anyone would ever realize this, because boy was that child a pain in the you-know-what for much of her youth.

Straight out of the womb, she was trouble. She was six weeks premature and spent the first few weeks of her life in an incubator with a unicorn-like antler protruding from her forehead. Finally, she was allowed to come home. Being an only child for six years, I wasn’t keen on sharing my toys or my mommy. (Allegedly) I didn’t want to have a thing to do with her when it was just the two of us, but boy when you factored a stranger into the situation, I was the most doting big sis (who would then push the stroller down the stairs the second the neighbor left).(Kidding.)(Really.)

Her health problems were many. She had a hernia. She had epilepsy. She was in the hospital a number of times by her third birthday. To this day, I’ve yet to be admitted for any sort of medical problem, apart from a routine wisdom teeth procedure; she’s had enough visits for the both of us to last a lifetime. I still remember finding her in seizures on our hard foyer floor when Mom and I returned from Reno when I was 8; not long after, she pulled the same stunt following a Braves game, and my parents spent the night in the Emergency Room. They were used to this with her, but it still scared us every time.

Sometime after three, her medical problems all but disappeared, and her penchant for causing mischief was born. You hear about Terrible Twos; well Kari invented Terrible Threes, Fours, Fives…. When we moved into the second of three houses in Tullahoma, my mom bought me all new, stark white bedroom furniture. Kari took yellow paint and went all Picasso on every piece.

She slit all the sheets in the guest room with scissors; she even cut her own hair. She colored all over the walls–in marker–but she was smart about it: She did it on the insides of closets so we only found much of it when we moved out of that house just two years ago.

After learning about 9-1-1 in preschool when she was still barely more than a toddler, she took the liberty to call it from home, then quickly hung up when someone answered. The dispatcher immediately phoned back to make sure everything was OK and got our perplexed mother on the phone who didn’t know her child who could barely talked was capable of such a thing. For years, anytime a siren would blare, we’d tell her it was the cops after her. She always did have a fear of the police.

She was the youngest of the five grandchildren by many years, meaning she always got picked on. But don’t feel sorry for her–she knew how to work it. One time she came upstairs and asked Rebecca and me what a “turd” was. (Note: This isn’t a word I have ever used, so she didn’t hear it from me.) Rebecca responded ironically, “just try saying that to your mom.” Kari always did take everything literally and followed her command. Rebecca and I spent the next week grounded. Hey, if you’re gonna be the youngest, you have to learn the ropes early.

And don’t think we were much nicer to her either. While Kari’s biggest fan, my BFF at the time, Jana, who lives out here with me in San Fran now, was also her worst enemy. She would make Kari do things like moon cars passing by wearing just dinosaur sunglasses while still a tot, and we both would spy on her from the closet. That was our favorite recreational activity (what we thought we’d catch a two year old doing with no one else around is all but beyond me).

She was a funny kid. While she has always been thing, as a child, her stomach popped out like a bowling ball. It was such a sight. She spent many nights at home with my dad while I was playing sports, and while my dad falls asleep the second he gets home from work, Kari would sneak in the living room and watch TV. Thus, she picked up many an inappropriate movie quote. One time at the ballpark, she announced to everyone within earshot: “They’re my goddam kids, too!” (Name that movie!)

Kari could have gone on to be a professional athlete. Whereas I always was the extremely hard worker and did go on to play college sports, everything came naturally to her. She had college tennis scouts approach her at 12. Unfortunately, she was always fragile, and two knee surgeries and a shattered hip by the age of 15 meant her college career wasn’t going to happen.

She was, how should I put this mildly, a tad bit BOY CRAZY from birth (sorry Current Boyfriend Nick, I only speak the truth). Even at the ripe age of two, she had a “boyfriend”–and “stayed with him” until 7! She’s nothing if not a serial dater monogamist. They would walk around the church nursery hand-in-hand. it was quite cute. And she’s still friends with every.single.one.of.them. Because that’s just the type of girl she is; you meet her once and instantaneously fall in love with her.

It always perplexed my mom and I that someone could possess such genuine charisma and be as universally adored as Kari, but that’s simply and honestly the case: You’d be hard-pressed to find anybody who’d met her who doesn’t like her. (My mom and I, on the other hand, are a bit hot-headed and tend to rub some people the wrong way!) While always the popular kid in school, she’d also reach out to the underdog. Kids from all ages and classes appeared on our doorstep each Christmas to eagerly give her presents.

She’s now a sophomore at my alma mater, the University of Tennessee. I was always a bit worried she’d be one of those younger children who headed off to college and went buck wild, but it was quite the opposite. Perhaps because our parents were always pretty liberal in raising us and would let us have a beer or margarita with them if we wanted in our early teens, neither of us ever went off the deep end. (I will say, though, Kari is even more fun after a drink or two, ha!) Not only did she get admitted to the honors college, a much tougher curriculum, but she finished her frosh year with close to a 4.0. She’s also an officer in her sorority and on a whole host of other boards and committees. Most college kids don’t do this until their season year when they frantically realize they need to pad their resumes; Kari does it because she’s a helper and wants to please everyone.

She doesn’t give herself nearly enough credit, but the girl is brilliant, tough and compassionate. I was hoping she’d guest blog for me while I’m away next week, but confidence is one arena in which she is lacking. She claims none of you would be at all interested in what she has to say (tell her you want her to; it might just help!). We never really fought much, likely because of the age difference, and after reading so many tales of divided family in the blogosphere, I’m so blessed to be able to count her (and my mom!) among my bestest friends. (Though do best friends head on a beach vacation to Florida without you? Because that’s where the two of them and Kari’s boyfriend are right now!)

So happy 20th birthday, Sister! I love you more than a mere blog post can express.