When I was 7 and my older sister was 9, my mom had another baby.

It wasn’t planned, but Martha came into our world on June 4th, 1989.

Boy was she needy, hungry, sleepy, whiny, noisy, angry, and stinky… She was like the 7 dwarfs balled up into this one little 8 pound bundle. But she was already as beautiful as snow white. Shiny dark brown hair (ignore the spikiness); delicate fair skin; big “innocent looking” brown eyes.

She was a blessing in disguise, a REALLY good disguise. She grew from a semi-controllable infant in a small play-yard, into a wild toddler who was convinced the whole house was her play-yard.

At an early age I knew she would be athletic. She had a knack for throwing things, HARD, at me specifically. I’m talking about toys, jars of baby food (glass jars), scissors. Yes, even scissors. You know kids, and their aversion for haircuts. Whatever thingamabob she had at hand was a possible projectile. She’s always had a unique way of showing affection.

I was used to being the annoying lil’ sister, but this was a “whole new world”.

You see most people have to become famous to have a groupie. But not me, oh no, I had thee #1 groupie/stalker. She was with me ALL the time. She even gave up her bigger, cooler room upstairs, to share, or rather, takeover my smaller, but comfortable, room downstairs.

Don’t get me wrong. It was great. Who doesn’t want to be able to recite every disney movie from memory, or share a bed with stuffed animals.

Although there was a big age difference, we actually got along pretty well, once she got out of the “throwing phase”.

My parents worked hard to provide for us. Between their time consuming work schedules, and the language and cultural barriers of being older, Spanish speaking parents, they missed a lot of activities.

So, l walked her to class, took her to pool parties and ice skating parties, cheered at her volleyball and basketball games, put my life at risk to give her driving lessons, helped her with essays and boys. I don’t know which was harder.

Really, we were both learning and growing up.

She taught me about patience and playing. She kept me young and grounded when I could’ve been a rebellious teen. She helped prepare me for the most important role of my life, Motherhood.

Somewhere along the line, she went from baby sister, to pain in the butt teenager, to the beautiful young woman she is today.

We spent so much time together, painting our nails, renting movies at blockbuster, going shopping, talking, playing with makeup, mostly just being foolish.

I was lucky. Until the day I got married, my best friend slept over every night.

A quarter of a century has passed and she’s still needy, hungry, sleepy, whiny, noisy, angry and stinky. We don’t call her Marta Farta for nothing. But she’s also a lot of other good adjectives that end in y, too. 😉

I’m so grateful that she came into our lives. I’m so proud of the beautiful, funny, intelligent woman she has blossomed into. Another 25 years can pass and she’ll still be my baby sister, but more importantly, she’ll still be my best friend.

Happy Birthday.