D is For Devin

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Caleb. Happy birthday to you.”  Today, we celebrated my little brother’s second birthday. Four days prior to his, we celebrated my twelfth birthday.

I was now in seventh grade, and clearly outnumbered by boys—besides smitten by one in general. Patrick Delance was my first crush. He had the dreamiest green eyes, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at him whenever I could. It was hard knowing that he probably had no idea who I was, or that he had girls on every side of him.

It was even harder to tell anyone in school of my secret. By this time, my mom had just given birth to another boy, named Devin. I still hadn’t given up hope that I would have a sister one day.

Braxton was now three: wild, sweet and quite the mastermind. He would often stick his hands underneath my door—especially when I had my friends over. He and Caleb would get into my room when I was at school, which is when I started locking my door.

I knew that this was just the beginning of madness. With three little brothers, I often felt a bit lonely since they were so close together. Braxton and Caleb were pretty much inseparable already, and I had no doubt that Devin would be too when he too got older. My parents still worked just as much, but now started to include our family even more now they had been born.

We always had our traditions as a family of three, but nothing like my dad taking us outside and playing ball. He never wanted to play ball with me, but I found out long ago that it was probably because I wasn’t a boy.

Now, it looked like my dad had gotten his wish—times three. We spent every Saturday morning throwing a football back and forth. Sundays during football season were spent sitting around the couch, watching our favorite teams play.

I also had the opportunity to show off my cooking skills each time we got together. When the first semester of school had started, I was a little nervous to begin my fourth class on my schedule—which just happened to be Home Economics.

The first few weeks that school began, were especially rough. The fact that I couldn’t concentrate, was enough for my teacher to hold me after class. We ended up talking for about fifteen minutes and I got out all my worries. I had enough cooking mishaps that I stayed away from the kitchen, until after that talk. It was only then that I had gotten my confidence back, almost completely.

There were still times when I hesitated; when I messed up and wanted to run away from it all. But most of the time, I didn’t. Sometimes I’m glad I didn’t, because I made some new friends—who I found were in the same boat as I was. In fact, it made life feel less lonely.   

Abi, Suzanne, Megan and Lisa: we had all became the best of friends. What made it easier to continue my cooking was that they were so all supportive—even made me think about a career as a professional chef; unlike my brothers who both wanted to be truck and race car drivers.

My brothers alone: had a bucket of cars that had been given to them over the years. Gone were the days of playing with Barbies, because they wanted nothing to do with them—so we ended up storing them up in the attic for the time being.

“The birthday boy gets the first piece.”  My mom gushed as she cut a small piece of the car and truck cake. Caleb was sitting at the table, kicking his feet back and forth in anticipation. Handing the cake off to my dad, Caleb immediately dug in.

By the time that everyone had a piece, Caleb had gotten another sliver of cake, and we had only eaten only a third of the cake. I had a feeling that we would be eating it for the rest of the week, and then some.

“Mom, can I go play?” Licking his sticky fingers, he hopped off the table with his plate in hand.

“Sure.” Go put your plate by the sink, and remember to wash your hands.” She called after him, as he was already on his way. “We’ll be opening presents soon.”

“Okay.” His response was muffled when he skipped off; my youngest brother’s cries were heard over the monitor which had my mother rushing to wash her hands at the sink. We hadn’t been getting along as well lately, so I decided that this time was the moment to redeem myself.  

“I’ll get him.”  I called behind me, already heading up the stairs to my parent’s bedroom. They had since given away my crib, after realizing that they might not have another child. The dark oak crib that my youngest brother was sleeping in now—had been bought just before Braxton had been born.

Now Devin was laying there, his face all scrunched up and red. He was wearing a blue cap that he had gotten from the hospital, a blue outfit with a bear on the side, and white mitts so that he wouldn’t scratch himself.

“It’s okay.” I lifted him from the crib—only to find that he had soiled through his diaper outfit, and onto the bedding. Thankfully I had enough practice that I quickly cleaned him up; found a yellow outfit with a duck on it and removed his blue hat from his head.

After he was all clean, I swaddled him with the blanket and he quieted. My mom had shown me many times how—so it seemed to come naturally. I removed the bedding and placed it in the hamper, before getting a new one. By that time, my mother had come upstairs, she took Devin and I finished putting on the new sheet.

“I’m sorry.”  Turning around, I placed my hands in my pocket. She was looking down at Devin; her eyes gleaming with love. “I didn’t mean to say those things. . . I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you.” My mother smiled and walked over to me. She always seemed to make a point, whenever she kissed me on the forehead.

“You’ll make a good mother someday.” She whispered softly, before walking over to the rocking chair and sitting down.