Top 10 reasons why being a sister from a different mister is fun/beneficial

My sister is my half-sister. Do we think of ourselves as that way? Hells no. But, when we were growing up, it was common knowledge that we were. Our Mom wrote for the local newspaper for many years with the by line of Haraldson-Bering. Haraldson being her maden name and Bering being her married name. It’s the 21st century way of doing things, you know. And since my last name wasn’t either of the two and neither was Carly’s, well, people used common sense.

I never once felt ashamed or embarrassed, please know this. I actually loved thinking I was too cool for school, being different.

So, without further ado, here’s my top ten list of why being me and Carly is pretty damn awesome:

1. Calling our house and getting our answering machine was pretty fun. It was like calling a law firm. Mom’s cheery voice would come up and you’d hear, “Hello! You’ve reached the home of Haraldson, Bering, B……, and Reed. Please leave a message after the beep.” (I’m not at liberty to give away Carly’s last name. Though it’s common knowledge to some, there are some creepy people out there googling us. Best to be safe. I’m married now. Google me all you want. You won’t find much.)

2. Going to new schools was always an adventure. Long story short, we started in Minnesota, moved to Pennsylvania, moved back to Minnesota, then back to Pennsylvania. We’ve been to a few schools. But, when we’d start, no one knew we were related. And at the bigger schools, people wouldn’t realize we were related until we were planning to move or have moved. People always just thought it odd that we looked sort of alike and never put two and two together.

3. Being best friends and having different last names is fun. Because we can say we’re best friends. Sure we’re sisters, too, but strangers didn’t have to know. We’d go to the mall or something and pretend to be friends who are out having a fun time. Little did everyone else know that we’d get home and probably have a small spat.

4. The phrase “Your Mom” became more and more fun to use. I couldn’t ever say something like “Your Daddy” or crack a “Your daddy’s so fat…” joke to her. And she really couldn’t do the same to me. Despite the fact that mine is alive and (perhaps…possibly?) well. So we’d use the phrase “Your Mom” like it was going out of style:

“Hey Carly, are you going to give me a ride to practice tonight?”
“Your Mom.”

“Cassie, did you want some ice cream?”
“Your Mom.”

You get the point. We’re childish. So what.

5. Like I mentioned above, our Mom used to work for the newspaper. In the beginning, no one knew that was our Mom. And still, to this day, people say, “Oh. My. Gosh. Your Mom is Lynn Haraldson-Bering?!? I loved her columns! (Side note: so did a lot of people, since she won the Golden Quill Award back in the day for her columns. She’s kind of kick ass.) So on Thursdays, we’d get to school and some teachers would be talking to each other about the beautiful column written about Lynn’s daughter. Which one, it didn’t matter. The point is, the teachers, half the time, never realized that we were her daughters. Good stuff.

6. All my bad qualities I blame on the Mister’s side of the family. Big feet? Lee. Stubborn qualities? Lee. Tendency to be reserved when stressed? Lee. Don’t know when to shut up? Lynn. Wait, what?

7. Growing up, we never had the father figure who could step in and really say, “Because I’m your father and I say so.” That was awesome on so many levels. For one, we had the upper hand, always. We also could, but NEVER did, say “You’re not my REAL dad. So bite me!” Although there were times I’m sure we both thought it.

We knew better than to piss off Lynn.

8. We’re so different. I look at my husband when he’s with his siblings, (two big brothers and a little sister) and Oh. My. Gosh. It’s like their minds have melded into one and they’re only one person. It’s freaky, really. And then his dad will walk into the vicinity and I’m done. They’re all that much alike. I mean, different, but alike…if that makes sense.

Carly and I are alike in the way that we don’t hate each other. I am extremely outgoing, talkative, laid back, don’t give a what about what most people think, would give my left foot for any family member in need and really talkative…really.

Carly is more shy and reserved, offering her most inner thoughts to family if they’ve earned her full trust, more organized with her life in general, brilliant, bookish and would give her right foot to any family member in need.

The similar qualities I’d link to Mom. Otherwise she’s her dad and I’m my dad. Or something like that.

We have the same eye color, though.

9. We have such a fun story. I lovingly say I’m a bastard child of a one and/or  two night stand. Mom says I’m the poster child for “It only takes once.” I should teach that to kids in school. Don’t have sex until you’re ready for a kid like myself! That’s scare most people into celibacy.

Carly’s story isn’t so much as fun, but…a story none the less. It’s fun to tell people that we are who we are and we don’t look for sympathy. We’ve never asked for it. We’re kick ass. That’s what we are.

10. We wouldn’t have this fun blog. That’s true. I mean, what’d we name it otherwise? “Lame thoughts of two natural and smart blondes who just want to make it through life without pissing off too many people?”

Oooh, I like that.

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About Cassie

Two sisters from two misters. What could be more fun?

Posted on September 1, 2010, in Cassie and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 14 Comments.

  1. I like this, except for #6. SNAP!

  2. As the great Frank Zappa once said, “You are what you is.”

    You and Carly are exactly what you are supposed to be… Solid gold.

  3. Not knowing when to shut up is definitely a Haraldson trait. Sorry, Lynn!

    Love you two sistas!!!

  4. From the first time I saw your blog listed on bluzdude’s blogroll, I knew I had to read it. I have yet to see a more creative name for a blog. Then I had the privilege of meeting you both at his fest. You are so right. You are both “kick-ass” and fabulous!

  5. Love seeing empowered, happy women!

  6. My brothers are, biologically speaking, actually my half-brothers (we all have the same dad), and it’s never made a hill of beans to us either. This is one instance where halves = whole.

  7. Great article. Always good for a laugh. You gals are hilarious.

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