I have one.
This post isn't about her.
She's brilliant, gorgeous, athletic, funny. I waited 14 years for her. She gets her own post. This isn't it. This post is about a different kind of sisterhood.
Before I go into it let me tell you this, I was one of *those* girls in high school. To all the girls I went to high school (or junior high school) with, I apologize. I wasn't the boyfriend stealer. I wasn't a snob. I wasn't a bitch (Actually, I probably was a bitch. Feel free to tell me if that was the case. I'm doubly sorry for that.) I just didn't have girlfriends. I started out having girlfriends but as girls sometimes do we betrayed each other. We acted snarky. Talked badly of one another. Lost touch. And ultimately stopped talking at all.
So I eventually just hung out with the guys. All guys (Jordan, I'm talking to you if you're reading). And I had fun. Guys aren't catty or bitchy. They don't care what you're wearing to the prom. You can make them a pie and they are just happy you made them a pie. They don't try to make a pie better than you or curse you out for trying to outdo their pie. I went on 'dates' with guys. To concerts with guys. To pizza with guys. I studied with guys. Rode around (and got stuck) in a 4 WD pick up with guys. Listened to Metallica (and some George Strait and Joni Mitchell, we were a varied group) with guys. Watched Monty Python with guys. I think you get what I'm saying. I hung out with guys. The memories are good. Very good.
But I missed girls.
Here's the thing about girls: We are in constant competition with each other. Who has the smarter kid. Who is skinnier, prettier, smarter, funnier. Who has the better (or worse) husband. Who has the bigger or nicer house or car. Who. Is. Better.
I don't get it.
And here's what I know, when you meet a girl that you don't have to feel like you're in competition with, hang on to her.
Recently someone I only barely knew in junior high commented on my blog post about secrets. It said this:
Joni, I'm a lurker on your blog and, well, just read this: http://stefdwe.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-blogging-inspiration-aka-im-so.html.
So I went there. Cause what am I, some kind of jerk? And what did I find? A blog post about me. Yep me.
Little ol' insignificant imperfect me.
I hope you read it because it drives what I am about to say home.
When I read it I was awed. Just awed. Here is this sister, beautiful, intelligent with a beautiful family and an enviable life and she is talking about how I make her feel inadequate. How she actually AVOIDED reading my blog because of this feeling. (Read her blog by the way, it's really good.)
Which is, you see, why I had to write this.
Because when I look at the Pioneer Woman I feel inadequate. She is a blogger extraordinaire. She cooks. She's witty. She homeschools. She leads an interesting life. She wrote a BOOK for godsake.
But she's my sister too.
And here's the truth: I'm not inadequate. And neither is Stefanie. And neither is anyone else reading this or any other blog.
We have the same struggles. We share the same hopes and fears. We want the same things for our families, our children.
We are sisters.
And we should act that way. We shouldn't have to blog about it because it should just be.
We should help each other through nursing school.
These sisters were there when I thought I couldn't write one more care plan.
They should stand by each other through whatever.
These sisters? I've know them since I was a punky little kid. My wedding wouldn't have been like it was without them (like I wouldn't have had flowers because I couldn't cut 575 stems alone, 8 and a half months pregnant.)
They should fix your hair when you get married.
Like this sister.
And they should be there when you have your babies.
This sister rubbed my back for at least 6 hours. The one up there ^. She took all the pictures.
These are a few of my sisters.
And I treasure them.