EmmieJ

May 04 2012

Answers to My Own Skeptical Questions about The Avengers

Who doesn’t love a weeknight date with an 8-year-old? Monday night, I took DJ to see The Avengers and, rather than do a typical movie review, I thought I’d just blurt out the answers to the questions that were on my mind before I went to see it.

Q: I heard on NPR that they opened Avengers overseas first so they could recoup the investment in the movie before it opened in the U.S. (An indication U.S. sales may slip.) Did it really suck that bad?

A: Uh…NO…absolutely not. When I heard that, I was expecting to be “meh” about the whole thing, quite honestly. I took advantage of the free tickets because I knew DJ would be excited to see a movie before it came out. But I was genuinely, thoroughly entertained. So much so that DJ and I immediately came home and told Scoot that we should go see it again as a family.

Q: Will the dirty looks I get for taking my elementary school aged kid to see this be justified or no?

A: No. DJ is 8. I was nervous about taking him to a PG-13 movie that I hadn’t prescreened. He’s seen other PG-13 movies (e.g., Transformers) but we usually get the chance to see them first to make sure the violence isn’t too extreme or too real and the sexual innuendo isn’t too over the top. He. LOVED. It. There was only one scene with “real” blood…most of the rest of the “violence” was either fist fighting-style or big explosions that weren’t particularly graphic. The sexual references were subtle enough that they went well over his head. And DJ laughed and laughed and laughed at the jokes. There was a tiny kid (maybe 3 or 4?) in the audience and he did just fine. Though he’s not a huge fan of 3D, I think Bop (age 5) would even enjoy it. (He loves him some super heroes.)

Q: I’m more of DC Comics/Batman ~~freak~~ fan. Will I like a Marvel movie?

A: Do you like action? Characters with great chemistry? Funny jokes? Awesome fight scenes? Big explosions? Samuel L. Jackson? Baseball and apple pie? If so, you’ll enjoy it even without Bruce Wayne. (Sorry, Bruce, you know I still love you.)

Q: Does this movie stay true to the comic books?

A: I have no idea. I don’t do comic books. But I do know that there were CLEARLY some comic book fans in the full theater… (many looked just.like.this.)…

…and they CLEARLY enjoyed the movie. They were hootin’ and hollerin’ throughout the whole thing and when a new character was introduced (one they obviously recognized), they cheered with excitement. I’d say that the comic book geek endorsement level was quite high.

Q: Do you need to have seen Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, or The Incredible Hulk to “get” this movie?

A: No. I’d seen Captain American and Iron Man 1 and 2. DJ had only seen Iron Man, I believe. We both really enjoyed the characters, their roles in the film and their development throughout the film. Though some of them disappear for a bit, they all get reasonably equal billing…no small feat for this kind of ensemble cast.

Q: I don’t really like Scarlett Johansson. Is she going to ruin this movie for me?

A: She won me over in her first scene.

I mean, the chair part? Awesome. And she held onto me throughout the rest of the film.

Q: Do I really need to see it in 3D?

A: I only saw it in 3D so I have nothing to compare it to. But I thought they handled the 3D well. Gone are the days when you need to be hit over the head time and again with cutesy 3D tricks. With the novelty of 3D long worn off, I prefer my 3D effects to be seamlessly integrated into the movie so that it enhances the story without calling attention to itself. This movie succeeded at that. So I’d say, go see it in 3D and take advantage of the craftsmanship.

Q: Do I need to walk, run or run away from this one?

A: Run. See it when the theaters are packed with comic book buffs. It’s like having a bottle of wine with a wine connoisseur or going to an art museum with an artist. I sincerely felt like I enjoyed it more being around others who were so clearly enjoying it.

**Disclosure: I received two free passes to this screening from Disney. I was not asked to write about it nor was I compensated for this post. The opinions expressed here are my own. And DJ’s. Heh.**

Apr 17 2012

1 Comment

Business, Family, Just for Fun, Me, Myself and I, My Boys, Parenting, Sports, Vacation

Everyday He’s Shufflin’: While You Were Out, Spring Break Edition

Ever since he was en utero, DJ has loved to dance. After seven years of saying we should enroll him in a dance class, we finally put him in hip hop and breakdancing last fall. As I saw him on stage at his recital in December, cheesin’ and basking in the spotlight as he popped, locked, glided and B-boy’d across the stage, I was struck hard – deep in my chest – with a feeling I’ve never felt before; one that’s hard to explain. I became acutely aware of and physically plugged into just how happy he was.

After his recital, I ran into his hip hop teacher backstage and, choking back tears, thanked her for helping him find that happiness. I’m certain she thinks I’m crazy, but it’s really hard to describe that feeling of seeing your child personify passion in such a way for the first time.

Fast-forward a few weeks. We had been toying with the idea of redoing DJ’s bedroom for some time. It was themed after his favorite movie as a toddler, Cars. Four years, one sequel and leap into the “tween” phase later, it seemed that we were nearing the time when we should stop talking and start acting.

A few quick Google searches later and I realized I could buy him a small dance floor that he could practice on, maybe a mirror to watch his technique and, perhaps, some cool art for the walls. Then Scoot remembered a show he’d seen at a local art school where an interior designer had a hip hop-style room on display. He went to the school and inquired about the designer who has since graduated. Less than a day later, I was on the phone with Dee asking if she had any interest in designing a bedroom for an eight-year-old aspiring B-boy. She leapt at the chance.

I thought hiring an interior designer was something only rich people could do, but I quickly figured out that A.) It wasn’t nearly as expensive as I expected it to be; B.) She had a lot of creative ideas for materials and execution that saved us money; and C.) The results would end up being so much better than anything we could have come up with on our own.

We went away for spring break and came back to this (sorry, I had to pixelate some of the pictures to blur their names so you can’t really see the full effect of the graffiti):

I think he likes it…

*** If anyone in the Sacramento region needs an interior designer, I HIGHLY recommend Dee. She’s creative, professional, courteous and flexible. Her portfolio includes all sorts of styles, room types, sizes, etc. If you give her a call, tell her Emmie sent you. I didn’t get anything for saying this…it’s just a heart-felt endorsement of her work from a very satisfied client. ***

Tagged dance bedroom, graffiti, kids dance room, portable dance floor, sacramento interior design

Mar 21 2012

5 Comments

Elementary School, Facebook, Family, Fashion, Friends, Lemons, Me, Myself and I, My Boys, Our 'Hood, Parenting, Politics, Race

One Million Hoodies

“Have DJ wear his hoodie today,” Scoot whispered as he woke me up to say goodbye this morning.

“Huh?” I replied, still very sleepy.

“It’s the Million Hoodie March today for Trayvon Martin,” he replied.

“Oh, ok. Yeah,” I said.

One more snooze cycle later, I was up and in DJ’s room talking to both boys about getting dressed. “Wear your hoodie today, DJ,” I told him.

“OK. Why?”

And so it began, a weighty conversation to be having with an eight year old at six-something in the morning. I explained to him the story of Trayvon Martin. That he was killed by an adult. That he was Black. That he was wearing a hoodie in a neighborhood where this adult didn’t think he belonged. That it could have been anyone with the wrong colored skin wearing a hoodie that night. I will likely never forget the look on his face when he asked if Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. got involved like after Bloody Sunday and I replied, “No, DJ, this didn’t happen back then. This happened just a few weeks ago.”

Just a couple weeks ago, as we pulled out of the parking lot following DJ’s baseball game onto a street in our somewhat diverse suburb, I did a double-take at the green truck ahead of us. “What the f**k?” I said in disbelief to Scoot as I flipped to the camera on my phone. The entire back of the truck was covered with racist, derogatory bumper stickers exactly like the ones you’ve seen reposted on Facebook. (No, that’s not my picture. Frankly, the one I took was even worse.) This didn’t happen in the Deep South. It happened in liberal California. In 2012.

Just a few years ago, Scoot and I were shopping at a mall. A display just before the entrance to a high-end department store caught my eye and I slowed. Not seeing me, Scoot walked into the men’s section of the department store, far enough ahead that no one could know that we were together. As I walked in behind him, I noticed a salesman tailing him. I watched as he, a twenty-something father stopping by the store to check out shirts and ties for his white collar job, was followed suspiciously.

Just a score ago, Black friends and schoolmates who lived in the same uber-liberal town that I grew up in were followed home from school by White administrators who were suspicious of their residency. They couldn’t fathom that these Black kids’ parents could possibly afford a home in this well-off city. In their mind, those kids must live on the other side of the creek, not in our district.

Sometimes it’s hard to do more than shake my head at these occasionally subtle, often overt expressions of suspicion based solely on the color of someone’s skin and the sense they don’t belong. I’ve been amazed by the conversations I’ve had and heard with and between other White people who won’t or don’t believe that these things take place. Still. Today. It confuses me why they walk around in ignorance or defiance, unable or unwilling to raise their voices, even in the safe confines of conversations with people who look like them, and say, “Yeah, I noticed that. It’s messed up.” And when I raise my voice, I get frustrated when other White parents act like I’m some hypersensitive wing-nut for talking to my children about such things, “forcing them to grow up too fast” rather than “protecting their innocence.”

There are seventeen year old kids out there, my nephews (who are Black) included, who walk around with hoodies on. They deserve to have their innocence protected too.

There is much that can and has been said about this atrocity. There will be much more said, I’m sure. Having my kids wear hoodies today won’t change anything. But talking to them about it, being honest with them about the world they live in, teaching them what’s right, and empowering them to do something, anything to keep this kind of tragedy from happening again? Not just today but everyday? Some day, that just might.

Feb 29 2012

1 Comment

Blogging, Facebook, Family, Lemons, Me, Myself and I, My Boys, Parenting

Happy Delete Your Google Web Search History Day!!! (Oh, and Happy Leap Year)

I’m a horribly complacent (and pessimistic) web user. Despite Path doing shady stuff with my iPhone contacts, I downloaded their update and kept on using them. I willingly pin on Pinterest (though to be fair, I have a strong bias against repinning others’ pins if they don’t link to original content). I’ve never threatened to quit Facebook. When Google first announced changes to their privacy policy that would allow them to do something likely sinister with the unthinkable amounts of data they have about me, I hit “Dismiss.” I started seeing posts on Facebook about how to delete your Google web search history. I ignored them. As this week began, they were posted with increased frequency and increased urgency. Oh yeah. That. Maybe I should take a look. And so, yesterday I decided to give it a shot and see what all the brou-ha-ha was about.

The first two pages weren’t all that interesting. I am constantly logged into Google and use it frequently for work. My search history would bore pretty much anyone. So I clicked the little button that said, “Earliest.”

This is what I found:

February 10, 2006. My first Google search (while logged in). I searched for baby names. February 10, 2006. B-Bop was born almost nine months later. This? Was the week I found out I was pregnant with Bop. Maybe even the day. And I turned to Google to ask what I should name him.

That? Is kind of a big deal. At least to me it is. There was one other person in the whole wide world who knew I was pregnant and that was Scoot. (Cat’s out the bag for the rest of y’all now.)

And that’s the thing about privacy. I want to control who I tell what to and when. And I want to “have my cake and eat it too” by being able to use the genius inventions of others to explore and learn and probe and express without having to abdicate my rights to that kind (and other kinds) of privacy. I want it to not be too much to ask.

Google, I love you. I’ve been hanging out with you for a long time. But, please, please, I’m begging you…don’t mess this up. Understand, I’m willing to give you little pieces of information about me so you can sustain your business model. In fact, I frequently click on advertisers’ sponsored links to make you money (even when their links are the first to show up in search) in some form of backwards spite.

But, Google, you were the second person (ok, I know you’re not a person but whatever, you know what I’m saying) that I told I was pregnant. I Googled my way through that pregnancy, through my subsequent job search, through my move across the country and house search, through my miscarriage and doubts and depression and worries and absolute freakouts, through raising my kids and asking if they’re “normal,” through finding soccer leagues and dance studios and places to vacation. Google, I (stupidly? blindly? but willingly) trust you a whole lot. Please, please don’t let me down.

Feb 18 2012

3 Comments

Blogging, Me, Myself and I

Do You Know What Today Is?

I never really know whether I should celebrate my so-called “blogoversary” (oh, the irony…my phone just corrected that to “blog overstay”) on February 18th (the day I bought my domain) or February 20th (the day I published my first post), but either way it seems a bit strange to call it a celebration.

I’m not here as often as I’d like. I haven’t tried to find a niche or blog for attention, fame or money. I haven’t sucked it up and paid for a custom-designed theme. I have more posts saved in unpublished draft mode than I have published. My posts are longer than I’d like. They’re less polished. Less concise. Less risky.

But they’re mine. All 99 of them. And so, today, I’ll celebrate that I found a little slice of the Internet where I can stake my claim and celebrate milestones large and small. Including this one. Happy 3 year Blogoversary, Life Behind the Curve.

And to those of you who come here and lurk, enter weird search terms and end up looking at pictures of me in a spider costume in 2nd grade, won’t stop searching for pictures of the admittedly-awesome pantyhose I wore to the Vegas Birthday Bash, that read and comment and *hug* and LOL and roll your eyes, it’s been a fun if not robust three years. Thanks for stopping by.

Feb 14 2012

Who Am I Anyway?

When I realized I’d be home before the boys tonight, I asked DJ what he’d like for Valentine’s Day dinner. He said, “I don’t know. Something heart-shaped.”

And this? Is why so many people have fallen in love with Pinterest. One search for “heart-shaped” yielded me three easy courses for our special Valentine’s Day breakfast-for-dinner.

(Red-and-white heart-shaped pancakes, heart-shaped bacon, heart-shaped watermelon.)

Feb 08 2012

1 Comment

Business, Child Care, Elementary School, Family, Food, Lemons, Marriage, Me, Myself and I, My Boys, Parenting, Work

The Working Mom’s Guide to Business Travel: 10 Tips and Tricks to Keep You and Your Family Sane While You’re Away

January was a busy month of business travel for me. With three business trips in as many weeks (two of which were cross-country) as well as three separate trips (one for all of us, two others for Scoot) to the Bay, it would have been easy for any one of the four of us to have a complete meltdown. I was pleasantly surprised with how well it went. Though most of the credit goes to having a more-than-capable husband willing and able to stand in for me while I’m away and my dad who pinched hit for a couple days while we were both away, I also like to think that the tricks I’ve developed over the years have helped make my absence less burdensome to Scoot and the boys. In the hopes of helping others relieve some of the stress (and, perhaps, guilt) that come with being a traveling working mom, I thought I’d share my experiences.

Plan ahead. While Scoot is responsible for cooking meals most weeknights anyway, I usually develop a weekly meal plan that he follows so he doesn’t have to think about what he should make and we’re sure to have everything he needs in the fridge/pantry. Before I leave for a trip, I write out the meals for the week and, if appropriate, where to find the recipes and post them on the fridge. Anything that is out of the ordinary such as snack day, fundraisers due, etc. are dealt with ahead of time to minimize the number of things he has to remember in my absence. We let the boys get hot lunch or have a Lunchables (I know, not the greatest nutritional options but the vast majority of the boys’ lunches are quite well-rounded and health-conscious) to make getting out in the mornings as easy as possible.
Do ahead. When I leave, I try to have the first day’s meal in the crockpot and the first day’s lunches made. I double-check to make sure all the bills are paid so neither of us has to worry about that while I’m away. I hate coming home to a messy house and a sink full of dishes but I understand how hard it is to find time for cleaning during a busy week. I’ve found that the cleaner I leave the house, the cleaner it’s likely to be upon my return. Think beyond the day of your return as well. Planning the day after my return keeps me from having to be “on” as soon as I get home. (See also, #10.)
Keep a routine. Having mom gone can be disruptive so keeping a routine for the boys is important. We do whatever we can to keep their before and after school routines as normal as possible. Scoot, DJ and I share a Google calendar and I put everything (basketball practices, dress-up days at school, library book due dates, etc.) on there so all three of us know what’s supposed to happen on each day. I also make sure to tell the boys’ teachers/daycare workers that I’ll be gone so they can adapt to funky moods or the need for a little extra TLC (this was especially true when they were in daycare/preschool).
Allow for fun. My mom didn’t travel much for work but the times that she did were great fun for me and my dad. I have fond memories of going to St. Louis Cardinals games at Busch Stadium on *gasp!* weeknights while my mom was off at her conferences (there’s no way would that ever fly if she were home). Though I don’t want to break the bank or get the boys’ routines out of whack, I generally encourage some special “Mom is gone, let’s go crazy” activities like a trip to the ice cream shop or a special dinner out. This extends past my return as well. If at all possible, I try to make sure Scoot gets some down time when I get home so that he can unwind without the boys too.
Plan travel around your family. Sometimes meeting times, flight costs and schedules, and company policies dictate what times and days I travel. But if I can leave after morning drop-off (Scoot does pick-up anyway) or get back in time for dinner and bedtime routines, those extra few hours of being able to provide my regular contribution to our family’s day are incredibly helpful. Not to mention the fact that each extra day of added care for the boys costs $32. If I can at all make it work, I try to schedule my trips so that I leave and return while they’re at school.
Pack fast and light. Even my dog gets stressed out when I bring out a suitcase and spend hours debating what to put in it. Dragging out my preparation just rubs my boys’ noses in the fact I’ll be leaving them so I try to pack either after they’re in bed or when they’re off at school right before I leave. Even when I was away for an entire week, I packed in a carry-on so I could get off the plane and into my car to get home to them as quickly as possible. I find little worse than being “home” but delaying my arrival home for 30 minutes or more while standing around waiting for luggage.
Stay in touch. Technology is a godsend for the traveling mom. Even on a regular day, Scoot and I are in frequent communication with each other about home life. Being available (when I’m not working or in meetings) to answer quick questions like, “Where are Bop’s basketball shoes?” or being kept abreast of the days’ developments like, “DJ forgot his homework,” help me feel connected and relieve a bit of the pressure on Scoot to keep track of absolutely everything under the sun. Ever since DJ’s gotten his iPod, I’ve used email to send him little notes, letting him know I miss him and am thinking about him and sending little reminders. Bop has discovered Facetime on Scoot’s phone and he LOVES talking to me and making funny faces through it. I’m grateful that it’s so much easier to stay connected than it was a generation ago.
Get rewarded. I’ve signed up for a handful of relevant loyalty programs (airline miles, hotel points, etc.) and take advantage of my travel in order to accrue points that I use for family vacations. I maximize my earning potential by trying to travel on one of two airlines and earn my points wherever I can. (For example, you can usually opt for airline miles instead of or in addition to hotel points at most hotels). I use programs like Star Alliance to focus on accruing on US Air even while traveling on United. Similarly, because I have to use a personal card and get reimbursed for travel expenses, I signed up a Chase Disney Rewards Visa that accrues points that convert to Disney dollars. On our last trip to DisneyWorld we had $600 worth of Disney dollars accrued that we used for food, souvenirs, hotel and tickets. My philosophy is if I have to travel for work, the least I can do is figure out ways for the boys to benefit from it (besides, you know, the whole paycheck thing. Heh.)
Take care of yourself. Traveling is hard on the body. When I travel for work, many of the factors most important to feeling good are out of my control. But I try my best to eat well (including lots of fiber and lots of water), take my vitamins, get sleep, etc. Sure socializing with coworkers, clients or business associates can be fun and sometimes required, but late nights out – especially those that involved drinking – can take their toll. I try to take advantage of the peace and quiet that come with being alone in a hotel by reading, watching a TV show or movie that I’ve wanted to see and – by far the best part of business travel – sleeping diagonally across the bed.
Celebrate your return. I make sure the boys know when I’m coming home (with the always fun caveat that sometimes things happen and flights get delayed) and I make plans with them for the special things we’re going to do when I return. I pick them up from school (rather than having them go to after school care), take them to lunch or dinner or ice cream, or just get in bed and snuggle with them. Being back together again is certainly cause to celebrate.

So that’s it. I hope some of these tips help relieve the stress and guilt that can accompany a business trip when you’re a wife and mom. What about you? What do you do to make sure everyone survives when you’re from home?

Dec 31 2011

2 Comments

Friends

Three Years and a Lifetime

It’s hard to believe we’ve been friends for only three years. It feels like so many more. It’s been an eventful few years, that’s for sure. We’ve been through ups and downs, broken hearts and new dreams, Skype dates that end abruptly and phone chats long into the night. I know you hate to have a big fuss made of your birthday, so let me leave it at this…You’re so much more today than you were when I first met you. You’re stronger and more vulnerable. You’re more anxious and more couragous. And yet, despite all that’s changed, I’m so glad that at your core, you’re still the same Megan I’ve always known. Even if “always” isn’t as long as it feels.

Exhibit A: Chicago, IL, July 2009

Exhibit B: Fairfield, CA, November 2011

Bucket list item...CHECK!

I think I can...I think I can...I think I can...

Annnnnd....we're back.

Happy Birthday, Megan. The only thing that I wish for more than being able to be with you today is that we have many many more years of me playing photographer as you go through life’s adventures. I can’t wait to capture you dancing in the rain.

xoxo,

Emmie

Dec 07 2011

2 Comments

Family, Me, Myself and I

The Things I’ve Wanted to Say

You’re seventeen years old today. SEVENTEEN! For nearly seventeen years, I’ve had the honor and privilege to watch you grow. There are so many things I’ve wanted to say to you over the years about you growing up, there’s no way I can fit it all into one note. But if I’ve learned nothing recently, it’s to say what I really want to say before it’s too late, so I’m going to give it a shot.

I adore you. Both. I always have.

I remember you sprinting up and down the bleachers at your uncle’s football games before I knew your mom, Papa, Nana, or the many others in your life who love you. In fact I can honestly say that, perhaps behind Scoot, you were the first people in your family that I fell in love with.

Lil, as you figured out how to talk, you’d call out to me, “Emmmmmmmmm,” with the same wry smile I see you flash today. You’ve always known just what inflection to put into your voice, just what glimmer to put into your eye, just what to say to make me melt at your feet and do whatever I could to protect you and show you how awesome you are.

Lid, you’ve always been one part stoic plus a bit of goofy, a smidge of responsible, a dash of childish and a pinch of mature. Your dimples show your lightheartedness while your eyes tell the tale of someone who is intensely driven. You’ve spent your life balancing your fierce independence with your intense loyalty.

I’m so incredibly proud of the men you’re becoming. You make your share of mistakes. I know you expect me to tell you that. (I’ve never been much of a bullshitter.) But you’re learning, growing, changing, evolving. And I could not be happier.

Though I know you’ll accuse me of getting too sappy (You? Accuse me? Of sap? Never!!!), I do feel the need to tell you a few things that have been sitting on my mind for a while, things I don’t ever want to regret not telling you.

Most importantly, your family (including me) loves you very, very much. Your mom, no matter how much of a “mom” she may seem to you now, has given her all to put you first in her life. Maybe you “get” it now, maybe it’ll take a few years, but you are everything to her. Sure she isn’t perfect…I trust you know by now that none of us are…but you are lucky to have her in your corner.

Your Papa and Nana have both given much for you – of themselves, their homes and their time. They love you with an intensity that could move mountains. They’ve needed you in their lives this year more than ever. Continue to be there for them.

Your uncles have, at different times, shown you how to be goofy boys, responsible men and loving husbands and fathers. I hope that you see the roles they play not only in your life, but in others’ lives and that you’ll take them heart, not just today, but for many years to come.

I can’t speak for any of these people, or for your other family members who take you to the movies or to dinner, who make you quilts or *cough* let you beat them at video games *ahem*, but what I can tell you is that you are surrounded by love. And really, that’s sort of all that matters in life. Love.

And that leads me to a subject I’ve long wanted to talk about but haven’t ever really been able to broach. What is love? What does it mean? How do you know if you’ve seen it? It’s quite hard to tell you, really, because love is a whole lot of words and no words at all. And the real answer is, you don’t. But let me tell you how I’ve experienced it.

When I first met your uncle, he was a high school kid living with his mom and sister who recently had twins. After waking up and getting himself to school, he’d head to basketball or football practice, come home, do his homework, play some video games, go to bed, and then wake up in the middle of the night to help his sister, not much older than him, to feed his infant nephews so she could carry on with the difficult task of finishing college while taking care of newborns and performing as a high-caliber athlete. That? Was love. Of your mom and of you.

I’m not sure how else to say this…If you ever enter into a relationship with a girl who doesn’t “let” you engage in that type of role for someone in your family, run as fast as you can away from her. Never let a girl talk disrespectfully about your mom. Any girl worth your time will see what your dedication to your own family portends for her own future. If she doesn’t honor your family, she will not honor you. It’s really as simple as that. (In fact, it was because of the role Scoot played in your lives that I knew, at your age, that he’d make a great dad. And I have to say, I was quite right.)

Yet your uncle was one of the many people who wanted to play a positive role in your lives. It’s a role that, while obviously different, correlates closely with the role that you, as the eldest cousins, now play in the lives of three little boys who look up to you. When you were younger than “Baby Quinn” is now, your uncles and Papa all were given this picture of you along with the following poem.

There are little eyes upon you

and they’re watching night and day.

There are little ears that quickly

take in every word you say.

There are little hands all eager

to do anything you do;

And a little boy who’s dreaming

of the day he’ll be like you.

You’re the little fellow’s idol,

you’re the wisest of the wise.

In his little mind about you

no suspicions ever rise.

He believes in you devoutly,

holds all you say and do;

He will say and do, in your way

when he’s grown up just like you.

There’s a wide-eyed little fellow

who believes you’re always right;

and his eyes are always opened,

and he watches day and night.

You are setting an example

every day in all you do;

For the little boy who’s waiting

to grow up to be like you.

I hope that as I pass this poem onto you, you’ll find joy in having your younger family members look up to you. I hope you’ll find pride in living your life the way you want them to someday live it.

KNK, I love you. I have to believe it’s tough to have a sappy auntie like me always saying it, but it’s absolutely true that I’m always here for you if you need me.

I hope you had an awesome 17th birthday.

Love,

Your Auntie Emmie

Nov 24 2011

Feed America for just $1

When we picked DJ up from school last week, he asked if he could choose an ornament from his after school program’s “Adopt a Family” tree. “Of course,” we said. After careful consideration, he chose to take responsibility for buying an 8-year-old boy (his age) a pair of pajamas.

We went to the store and picked out a pair. Knowing nothing about this boy, it was tough to figure out what size to get (DJ himself is often between sizes). I suggested that we get a slightly larger size because flannel pajamas were likely to shrink when they were washed.

“But, mom, I don’t think they have a washing machine,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“They might live in a car. You know, some kids don’t have houses like we do.”

We’ve been working to teach DJ about giving to others who don’t have access to the things we do. Each year, he goes through his playroom and donates his toys to kids who aren’t as fortunate. He sets aside one-third of his modest allowance to give to charities of his choice. It’s not easy giving on a budget. That has become all that much more obvious over the past few years as we’ve had to cut back our own charitable giving budget. That is exactly why I was so impressed when Megan told me about Feeding America and asked me to help.

The programs offered by Feeding America are vast – from a nationwide network of supported food banks, to programs to supplement government poverty programs that are constantly on the chopping block given our economy, to disaster relief for those facing an unforeseen emergency. These programs help the nearly 49 million Americans – including an astonishing 1 in 5 American children – who go hungry every day.

With just $1, Feeding America can provide 8 nutritious meals to those in need. EIGHT!!!! $5 = 40 meals! $25 = 200!!!

DJ and I talked about how much we feel comfortable giving. What about you? You can click here to donate. When you’re done, head on over to Undomestic Diva’s blog, leave her one comment for every $5 you donate and you can win a $50 gift card to Starbucks.

And if you need help, you can head over to Feeding America’s site to find out more.

May you all have a very happy Thanksgiving.

Life Behind the Curve

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