Growing Up Bro-Less

Growing up, sometimes Sunday's were the days when my family would wake up at the butt-crack of dawn and go to the swapmeet with our parents. We would walk around the aisles marveling at all of the wonderful junk people were selling and getting rid of. We would even go crazy spending our $10 bucks at the space where a guy sold nothing but Lisa Frank. Yep that's right, I said Lisa Frank!

Then there were times when we would wake up to my dad yelling (in Spanish), "Ok, time to put your batteries on! Get up!" Which meant one thing and one thing only: Yard work.

When a man has the odds of three to one, you bet the two daughters are gonna grow up doing the things boys are supposed to do. I remember pushing the lawn mower on the bottom bar while my dad pushed it for real with the top bar. We even had old tennis shoes and "work" clothes. And after all was clean and done, we would reward our selves with food and a good movie.

Growing up brother-less was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. It is the reason why I am not afraid of getting dirty, can use a hammer (and other tools), clean a house, change a tire, and ride a motorcycle. My parents didn't spare us because we were girls, they made every effort to show us that because were girls, we could do anything we wanted. That we are just as good (and better) as our non-existent brothers would have been. And for that, I am grateful.

Happy Sunday!