Mon the 5th of Oct – Irresistible force vs. immovable object

I am exercising my right to being a Royal Pain in the Ass Sibling…Poor Mar…I don’t think I am ingratiating myself with her these days. In fact, she rather thinks I’m a big bully…I’m not proud but I do whatever it takes. Out of principle I always ask her to join me every time I go out. Even when she doesn’t feel all that great…I know…I am terrible. Sometimes she is so excessively provoked that she’ll snap: “Paul (spoken in a very annoyed tone which I am extremely familiar with these days). You don’t seem to understand. I AM NOT feeling well. I am nauseous and I am tired and you want me to go out?” My very obtuse response is categorically: “Sooooo…Are you coming then?” Sometimes I push it. Other times it works if I whine long enough as only very experienced whining sisters know how: “C’mon Mahaahaahaar. You know you want to…I’ll race you?”

This morning was no exception and Dad sarcastically asked: “What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?” I guess it depends. Today the immovable object out-stubborned the irresistible force.

Meal times are a torture. Mar thinks the only one cutting her some slack is Dad. He always says: “I know my daughter. If she can eat, she will eat.” Mom and I aren’t as understanding and have a slightly different approach. We push Mar to the limit. Sometimes, she defiantly looks at us and says: “that’s it. I’m done.” To which I respond: “Oh c’mon Mar. You’re doing so well. You’re almost finished. Take a little break and come back for a few more bites!” Or when I snack, again out of principle, I always ask if she wants anything. Sometimes it works. Other times, the immovable object gives me the “I’m nauseous so back off” speech.

I feel very ambiguous about my attitude. At times, a little white feathered angel delicately lands on my shoulder and points out that I am pushing too hard too soon. It reminds me that Mar has gone through so much with tremendous strength and courage. It asks me to have more faith in her and respect her pace. But then, a little red devil brusquely stomps on the other shoulder and whispers in to my ear: “Paul, if you don’t kick her butt, who will? After all, what are sisters for? Oh, and by the way, that chocolate sure looks good, you should have another bite.”