Dear Little Juana:
I don't think I've ever told you this, but you really pissed me off the day you were born. You came poking out of our mom on a Sunday morning. It was the Sunday morning that we were supposed to be making Christmas ornaments in Sunday school. So that morning, when Dad came rushing into our room in his tighty-whities, I thought he too was really stoked about going to church to make ornaments. Then he started saying some crap about having to go to the hospital and some water breaking. I didn't get it. Then Lynette told me I didn't have to put on my church clothes because "the baby is coming." Then I got it. Then I realized that there would be no Sunday School that morning. More importantly, I realized that there would be no ornament making. They had told us about the ornament making the week before and I had spent all week thinking about how killer my ornament was going to be. So yeah, I was pissed.
I admit, my anger toward the little sister I didn't even know yet was briefly subdued when the nurses treated Lynette and me like rock stars. They gave us cookies and pudding and soda and entertained us while we waited for you to do your thing (which took forever, by the way). I'll also admit that I forgot about the ornaments in the days following your premier appearance. You could even go as far as to say that I was excited about having you around ... until the following Sunday.
Since I had forgotten about the ornaments, I arrived at Sunday School expecting the usual: some coloring, some singing, some games, and hopefully some tasty snacks. Imagine my dismay when I walked in and saw all the really sweet ornaments my classmates had made. I felt even worse when my friends described to me how exactly they made these fabulous works of art. They had mixed up some glue stuff in some bowls. Then they added some glitter to the glue stuff. Each kid got to pick what color glitter he or she wanted! They could even mix colors! After that they blew up small balloons. They dipped this weird yarn into the glitter-laced glue stuff and then wrapped that around the small balloons. This yarn part was repeated several times. They let the sparkling glue-soaked yarn dry for awhile. All week, to be exact. That's right. They weren't even done with the ornaments when I got there that Sunday. That's how awesome these ornaments were going to be. They took a week to make! So I got to WATCH everyone else gleefully complete the final steps. They used pins to pop the little balloons. Then they pulled the deflated balloons out of the rigid yarn-webbed structures. Imagine this with me, Juana: cute little Ross with big brown eyes on the verge of overflowing with sorrowful tears watching the happy laughing kids pop balloons. Imagine how I felt when all the kids started saying "Look at mine!" with pride and wonder in their voices. Can you see why I was so mad at you? Clearly my disgust with you was justified.
I've decided that 19 years is long enough for time to heal my wounds. So, for your birthday, I'm giving you my forgiveness. I know, it's really noble of me, but this is your day, so let's focus on you. Even though you were too concerned with crying, pooping, and sucking Mom's boobs to realize how you robbed me of a little glittery part of my childhood that day, I forgive you. I know you wanted an iPod for your birthday, but you can always just ask Dad for one of those. I'm not saying Dad couldn't buy you my forgiveness, but it would be pretty expensive and I don't think Dad loves you that much. You don't have to worry about that though, because I forgive you. Happy Birthday!
PS. Just kidding! I did get you an iPod! I mailed it to Mom and Dad's house.
PPS. Oh, and just kidding about Dad. He probably loves you a lot.
PPSS. I love you, Juana, and I am very proud of you.