Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

today mi sobrina was born. She has a three year old brother. I remember when her brother was born... what a revolution... he was the first kid in the family, we (his parents specially included, of course) were very anxious, very nervous, very everything. Today all was different, a more relaxed happiness.

Happy Birth-Day to the Little One ... Welcome and warm wishes of long life, good health & much joy to you and all your loved ones.


...as for me, I'm the second out of two. I have an older brother; and many many MANY cousins!

sweet. I cannot fathom that first glance inside of eyes you created.
Congratulations, mi amigo.

thanks!!

Congratulations Aunt Arcadia!

Good health to baby and her mamma!

Happy Birth-Day to the Little One ... Welcome and warm wishes of long life, good health & much joy to you and all your loved ones.

I can't think of any better way to say it.

Two older brothers and a younger sister. He is a forntunate boy to have a sister.

thanks again & yeah, I wish her the same too!
she´s in her home already, I can´t wait to see her again!.

not first born kids over here, eh?? I´m a first born kid and with some perspective I can say that it´s sometimes a hard job. But after you have thirty the effects soften somehow. Sure you could have the risk to play the rol of your mother´s brother anytime. And you also remember more things... yeah.

I'm a middle child. Number 3 out of 4. It's been great! I figured out at about 15 years old that I'd never live up to my older sister's accomplishments. As it should be. The first had all the responsibilities of the first. Poor kid. The second strived to be better and now she's perfect. She's created the perfect life – Perfect home, perfect job, perfect husband, perfect children. It's perfectly nauseating. No, but seriously, I'm proud of her but who would want all that responsibility? Not me. My younger sister and I are the luckier ones. We don't have to try so hard. We just had to accept that nobody expects us to be that perfect which makes it a whole lot easier.

interesting análisis doreen!!

yesterday her mother made shave her head.... her beautiful black hair is gone... now she looks like a little zen nun.... poor kid..!

I was the baby boy for 12 years until my sister was born. Rose in her forties, after three sons so happy for a daughter. The day she died just before her final breath, she called out for her oldest son, the doctor. It was then I realized I was not her favorite son it seems. But just her baby boy.

I have never told my brother about her final moments because I worry that it would hurt him because he could not be there with her. But there was nothing he could have done. After she called his name, she had a look of recognition, as if she knew that this time there would be no coming back. Her expression was one of acceptance and peace, no pain, just ready to go.

you feel bad, you call the doctor... it has sense. Medicine doctor?

well, my mother needed to say to me in explicit and enphatic way, two weeks before die that she loved me very much. That I must no had doubts about it.
Thanks for your answer!