Written by my sister:
Upon hearing that I was going to be a big sister, to say I was dismayed would be an understatement. I threw a tantrum of epic proportions. Prior to the age of four and a half, I was an only child and I liked it that way. Having a new baby to share my home and my parents attention with did not jive. I felt like everyone fawned over her because, let’s face it--Shelly was a cute little bugger. In fact, when my parents took me to a psychologist to evaluate me due to poor performance at school, he stated in his report that my “jealousy toward sister” was a ruling force in my life. Poor Shelly--she wanted so badly to be friends, but for years I pushed her away. I remember thinking she was a feral creature--I have a vivid memory of watching TV and her coming up and biting me for no reason. (And we weren’t watching Land Before Time either.)
However, Shelly was actually quite civil compared to other children. I also vividly recall acting out Aladdin with her and she couldn’t have been older than three! Even back then, she did have an air of sophistication that my peers from school lacked. At some point, we both eschewed the idea of having friends over because, frankly, they were feral and didn’t play “the right way.” So we began to spend most of our time playing dolls and other make believe games together, because we both liked structure and a deep and meaningful plot line.
Over the course of elementary school years, tolerance blossomed into true friendship. Early release days from school entailed playing “Ariel and Kelsey” (a doll game we were obsessed with) and eating Prince macaroni and cheese. By the time I was in middle school, we literally had a “secret language” (something I’d found in the Babysitter’s Club but we modified with added nuances, our own code words, and gestures). We had code names for places, “Tees-er Oos” was “Toys R Us” (which was a good place to go) and “Mucky Basky” was “Market Basket” (a non-preferred place). We called Memere “The Memster” when we were complaining. Needless to say, it didn’t take Dad long to crack those code words. We always played together--whether it was an imaginary game during which we role-played as characters or whether we were playing with dolls. We acted like twins--we could practically read each other’s thoughts and we were inseparable. (And, by the time Shelly reached my height, we fooled a few people into thinking we were twins.)
Having sisters in our doll games was an intrinsic part of our joined play. Starting with “Ariel and Kelsey”, we liked having our dolls be family and, when I was interested in Kelly dolls, we would split Barbie and Kelly fashion packs. In 2001, we began splitting the My Big Sister sets made by Kid Kore between us. The trend continued in Christmas 2003, when Dad bought us several different sister sets off of ebay, from the 90s, and we split them. By then, Shelly was into Kelly and I was into Stacie and Skipper. So, naturally, when American Girl released a sister for the 2022 Girl of the Year, I said I HAD to get her so that we had the “sisters.”
After Mom passed away in 2002, we were driven even closer together. The instances of inviting over other friends were even rarer and I was always included when Shelly brought someone else around. We’d entertain our company together and go over people’s houses together. And, with mom gone, there was a new vibe in the air--we now shared something we couldn’t/didn’t with anyone else and it was us against the world. Whenever we did have someone else over, that person automatically became a third wheel.
The year 2004 was like a final renaissance of childhood. We spent that spring and fall closer together and even more invested in all our favorite past times than usual--the dolls, make believe games, and enjoying being kids. We continued to tote our dolls around everywhere, especially Molly and Samantha. I think we knew that changes were coming--I would graduate high school in June 2006 and Shelly would want to dabble in other interests, like music, make-up, and coloring her hair. In the late spring and summer of 2004, our camping trailer was out in our yard and we would have sleepover parties every night. We would bring our favorite dolls and play make-believe well into the night. We would talk and play our imaginary games until we started to fall asleep. We tried to keep our volume down so that Dad didn’t know just how late we were staying up.
Over our Christmas break in 2004, we put an air mattress between the Christmas tree and the TV. We spent most nights that week sitting in the dark with just the illumination of the lights on the tree. We would each bring a few dolls to our sleepover party, along with our favorite stuffed animals. We would also play our make-believe games well past midnight. We kept our voices low and would become quiet and pretend to be sleeping if we heard Dad’s footsteps on the stairs. In later years, we would recapture a similar vibe. After Dad went downstairs to bed, I would sneak into Shelly’s room and, with just the light on her bureau vanity, we would talk and play imaginary games well into the night.
From 2002 to 2004, it was not uncommon to find me and Shelly somewhere in the house with a white board and/or piece of paper or two. As I said, I realized early on that Shelly and I were on the same page about the finesse involved in a good make-believe story of any kind. Neither of us were ones to just wing it. With make-believe role play games, we had to figure out the setting (what year and season, how old our imaginary players were), how everyone was connected to each other or would meet, etc. For a doll game, this was extra complex. We had some regulars whose involvement and ages were a given (for example, my Katie doll--8 years old and in third grade; almost always Jasmine’s adopted sister) and other dolls whose roles were more fluid. So, we would write a list of all our characters and whose side of the blended family each was on (some characters like Mary-Kate, Ashley, and Yasmin would change which side of the family they came from). Our doll families were often bigger than the Duggars, so this took time. Shelly’s favorite part was mapping out the set--which is where the whiteboard came in. We would have a map of our play space--usually the basement but one summer it was my bedroom--and partition off where all the rooms in the house would go. Dad would find us mapping out our set and comparing ideas-sometimes heatedly arguing about a key plot point--and ask us why we couldn’t “just play.” At this point, we would always unify against him and tell him that was ludicrous and that we needed a plan. Then, we would set up our dolls’ rooms/shared living quarters and even set aside which fashions belonged to which characters.
This trend continues to this day, when planning our As Told By Dollies video series (and any other skit we throw into videos). While I am most interested in wardrobe and select what our various players are wearing, Shelly is usually in charge of set design. Ever the list maker, she will write down all the names of our characters, all the sets, and all the materials we will need. She will then reorganize her list based on which set a scene will take place in, then relist the players and what outfits they will need. (My sister has lists for her lists.)
By the summer I graduated in 2006, we were still occasionally playing with and buying dolls, but it had really tapered off (I remember getting one of my duplicated Harry Potter dolls boxed that summer, but that was because I was still very much collecting Harry Potter more so than dolls). Dad went on a trip to Chicago, for work. He decided we were old enough to stay home alone (I hope so! I was 19!), but he was worried. For us it was VERY exciting. I mean, we could openly discuss whatever we wanted, go to bed whenever we wanted, and basically have an epic girls’ weekend! I’ll never forget our heart to heart in the pool, during which we told each other secrets (believe it or not, we didn’t know EVERYTHING about each other already).
By the time we were in high school, our secret communication methods had evolved. We still were using some code words--both ones we’d used years earlier and new ones--but we also did a lot of talking in Spanish because we both knew Spanish from school and Dad didn’t speak Spanish (our old code was easier for him to crack). Plus, by then, we knew each other SO well, that we really only had to look at each other sometimes to share a thought. Sometimes it would be just a look and the meaning would be so clear, like, “This person is really annoying.” Other times, one of us would make a face or sound derived from one of our imaginary personas of old that spoke even more like, “This person is obviously a narcissist.” or “I just had an evil idea.”
My college years and Shelly’s later years of high school were sort of a weird part of our lives. Shelly was trying to figure out who she was, without dolls. I felt left behind and was also trying to figure out who I was--what I wanted to do for a job, whether or not I really wanted to get married someday, etc. We still spent quality time together. Most of our best times together stemmed from listening to music. But we still reminisced about all the things we used to do. When Dad got diagnosed with cancer in late 2009, it was a wake up call to both of us--I think we realized that we really were essentially the same people we’d always been. Shelly was already realizing that changing your hair and clothes didn’t make you a different person on the inside, even if other people could be conned into believing what you were trying to project. I realized that I still really liked reading books in English and didn’t have to only read novels in Spanish because I was majoring in Spanish. And we realized to drop the act that we weren’t still into dolls--because we 100% were. Because of this revelation, our last year with Dad wound up being pretty special. Our immersion back into dolls gave the whole family a distraction (Dad got really into it--he couldn’t relate to our music and definitely didn’t understand about Shelly’s interest in make-up, but was well versed in shopping for toys.).
After we lost Dad in 2012, trying to figure out who we were as independent adults was a challenge. I thought I still wanted to teach Spanish, tried it and realized it was “no bueno.” Funnily enough, Shelly sort of knew deep down that I’d wind up working with special needs kids, even though she didn’t want to say so because she wanted to let me figure it out on my own. On some level, I knew it myself deep down because I remember visiting the special ed class in my high school my senior year, loving it, and thinking, “This is what I’ll do when teaching Spanish doesn’t work out.” (Notice it was “when” not “if.”) We also both thought, without saying it to one another, that it would be perfect for Shelly to work on a friend’s farm and--what do you know? A few years after we wound up on our own, that is exactly what our friend proposed.
We never stopped loving music and the strength in those memories from when I was in college never dimmed. Sharing a love of certain songs, albums, and musical artists is still a passion we enjoy to this day. That is a shared hobby we both decided to keep. She decided she liked keeping her hair orange/yellow, but that makeup wasn’t really her thing.
My sister makes the perfect roommate. We really agree on what we want--having small animals as pets and keeping them in easily accessible family areas, alphabetically sorting our DVDs after arranging them by subject, recycling, being vegetarians, and, best of all, devoting a LOT of our space to dolls. Doll displays, doll storage…one can never have too much stuff for dolls. I love living with my sister. We still communicate with expressions and subtle noises and code words sometimes in public (like this time when we were in line waiting to get to a concert and this guy reminded us of something funny/obnoxious). She makes me laugh with her sarcasm and by talking like Cola-ette (from our “As Told By Dollies” skits) in the car. (We tend to duet as Cola-ette and Dracula to certain songs.) Going with her on a car ride to Walmart is more exciting than going to a rock concert! I love sitting with Shelly on the couch listening to a new song together on the chromebook or watching a DVD. I love reorganizing things around the house with her. I love getting to spend time with her when I’m not at work. My sister has always been and always will be my best friend and I am truly blessed to share a life with her!
