My Brothers

I grew up in a family of four kids.  It went:  oldest sister, brother, me, baby brother.  I grew up between two brothers.  My sister was naturally ordained queen babysitter and basically could not be bothered with us younger siblings.  We were nothing but a source of annoyance. 

I was pitted against the god-almighty-son all parents pine for and the baby of the family who is naturally coddled.  My birth order sucked.  So what. 

Vivid childhood memories include being held down and having the brothers fart in my face.  I was told I was ugly and that I was adopted.  Hurtz Donuts (hurts, don't it) were frequently bruises on my arms and thighs.  I was ruthlessly teased and pushed around.  Crying to mom did no good.  I was told, "Of course they tease you... it's because they love you."

Really? 

I can't remember one instance where anybody stuck up for me and said that what was going on was over the line.  Whatever.  It made me a strong person.