Filed under Family

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

There Is No “I” in Fan

I can’t stand fickle sports fans. Ironically, I frequently have one in DJ. He doesn’t mean to be one, he just doesn’t know any better. He feels emotionally drawn to many geographies so I was super proud of his response when, on the way to the Sacramento Mountain Lions v. Virginia Destroyers game yesterday, I asked him who he’d root for. “Virginia,” he said. “Why, because daddy played with their quarterback and was coached by their coaches when he was in college?” I asked. “No,” he replied, “because that’s where I’m from.”

This conversation about which ‘hood he claims goes back a few weeks when he inquisitively asked which rappers were from Virginia as he failed to connect with 2Pac and Dr. Dre’s “California Love” the way his parents do. He moved from the Commonwealth to California when he was just three and, while he’s as much of a Cali boy and the next kid in my mind, he feels drawn to the place he was born.

It’s a feeling I understand well as I moved away from the state of my birth as a toddler and then, again, moved in the middle of elementary school to California. In the years since I’ve tried to figure out what I consider to be my “hometown.” (Imagine the angst when Facebook asked me to make such a public declaration.)

For me, my “hometown” claim as a sports fan was complicated by the fact that, just two months after I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, the SF Giants met the St. Louis Cardinals in the National League Championship Series. I was raised on Cardinals baseball (and football, by the way…why they’re in Phoenix and the L.A. Rams are in my town still baffles me). My earliest baseball memory was being allowed, at a month shy of four years old, to stay up to watch the Cardinals win the 1982 World Series at our townhouse in the St. Louis suburbs. (It’s also the first time I remember my mom being mad at my dad. Heh.)

In the years between then and our move west, my dad took me to Busch Stadium to see the likes of Ozzie Smith and Willie McGee while teaching me how to score a baseball game and heckle an opponent. My pet mouse was named Whitey Herzog.

When the Cards played the Giants, I wasn’t sure just who to root for as the new kid trying to fit in with a school full of Giants fans. Luckily I had little to do with the fate of either team. Yet somehow, I gave myself the leeway to root for the triumphant Cards as they faced the Twins in that World Series, the Oakland A’s as they faced the Dodgers the following year, and then the Giants as they met the A’s in ’89 in the Bay Bridge Series (a series memorable not only for baseball but the earthquake that literally rocked the local fans to our core).

And so, as it has been since, I rooted for the Giants as they made their way to the World Series last year. Now that they’ve imploded, however, I will admit that I “liked” the breaking news from CNN on my FB News Feed that the Cards, my first baseball love, had made it to the World Series (a “like” I gave despite not being able to name a single player from their team.) How’s that for fickle?

But it’s hard out there for a kid…a kid who, for a third of a century, has felt disconnected from all geographic ties of her own. And it is with that experience that I try to cut my own child, a kid who likes the SF 49ers and the Miami Heat, the Sacramento Kings and the Stanford Cardinal, the Scarlet Knights of Rutgers and…the Virginia Destroyers, a  bit of a break as he tries to figure out his own definition of “hometown” and which hometown team belongs to him.

If You’re Happy and You Know It

Hey, remember me? Yeah, I own this here little place of the interwebs. Nice to see you again. I could write a post (ok, I did…and decided not to hit publish…again) about where I’ve been but instead I thought I’d just cut to the chase and post something new. So here you go…

10 Things I Smiled About Today

1. The # I saw on the scale this morning.

2. Achieving my goal of getting up without hitting the snooze button.

3. DJ choosing to do his homework this morning (rather than tomorrow night) without any prompting.

4. Scoot baking cookies for the Mother-Son Dance Friday night.

5. Having enough calories left today to help be a taste tester of the aforementioned cookies.

6. Catching up with an old friend/colleague.

7. Seeing a new friend/colleague achieve well-deserved satisfaction.

8. Getting an email from my friend who seems to make it her life’s work to have me in stitches on a daily basis.

9. Looking at a calendar and realizing I will be seeing a bunch of my friends real soon.

10. Straightening my desk before I left the office for the night.

What made you smile today?

PSA: Look Right

One day when I was in 8th grade, I returned home from my afterschool activities to tragic news. A 6th grader at my school had been killed riding her bike home earlier that afternoon.

I walked across my quiet residential street, to the place where she died – less than a block from her house. I looked at the makeshift shrine that was beginning to build. Her blood stained the street.

She had been riding her bike in the bike lane but she was going against traffic. According to reports, the driver who struck her had pulled up to a sleepy intersection and stopped at the stop sign. She looked to her left and, seeing no cars coming her way, she turned right. Right into that young girl. She wasn’t driving fast. She wasn’t drunk. She just made a simple, but deadly, mistake.

It was an accident. A tragic accident.

Every morning, I pull out of my driveway with my own precious cargo in tow. I see the children in our neighborhood walking and biking down our street to school. I creep to the end of my street and stop. I look left. I see no cars coming.

And then I look right. I imagine what it must have been like for that poor girl in the last moment of her life. I imagine what it must have been like for her friend who had split off from her just a block earlier and who, years later, told me she heard her friend scream but didn’t realize until later what exactly it was that she was hearing. I imagine what it must have been like for the girl’s mom who, I heard, was so heartbroken she moved away from the home they had once shared.

When you come up to an intersection. Please stop. Fully. Please look to both your left and your right. Please do your part to prevent something like this from happening to another family.

I’ve Felt the Calm of A Satisfied Soul

It’s been a busy week around these here parts. First week of school and all. Here are some of the things that have satisfied my soul of late:

  • Sometimes not having all the answers really sucks.
  • Talking about death and dying with kids is never fun. Especially when it feels like it may be close. Or far. Or…who knows. But it’s important to talk about it nonetheless.
  • There’s a lot of great things that come with being a parent but one of the greatest is when your kids show absolutely no resemblance to you. See also: Five nights away from home with no homesickness and no fear of waterslides.
  • “No resemblance” corollary: When it takes 31 years and one kid who asks to get on a waterslide? And enjoy it? Awesome.
  • Waterslide corollary: Going on a family date to a place you and your husband have never been even though you’ve known each other forever? Also awesome.
  • There is little more liberating to a woman than to walk around in a bathing suit in public without caring about what others might think.
  • Ends up, this confidence despite evidence to the contrary thing is genetic.
  • See also: A six-year-old who doesn’t really think he needs to go by his new classroom to meet his teacher until the first day of school because really, mom, it’s not much different from last year.
  • Mom feels better when you make him go anyway.
  • It appears as though each added year of dropping my oldest off on the first day of school allows me to get a little further away from the building before breaking down into complete tears.
  • Having the youngest beg to go to kindergarten doesn’t help. Nor does knowing you’re planning on holding him back for another year when you’re pretty sure he’d be just fine if he went on time.
  • That knot in your throat when your kid says he can get to his classroom all by himself isn’t because you’re concerned he can’t. It’s because you know he can.
  • No matter how hard I try, I always say too much when I’m nervous.
  • Traditions matter. Especially those like taking the day before the first day of school off and working from home on the first day so you can be there when the bell rings. If there was a single piece of advice I could give working parents new to the whole school thing it’d be to warn them that EVERY. OTHER. PARENT. will be there to pick up their kids’ on the first day. If you’re not, your kid will, in fact, be the only one whose parent isn’t.
  • MMS picture spam may or may not be appropriate when you don’t post pictures of your kids online. But if you got a “Happy 1st day of School” text from me and didn’t want one, please feel free to let me know. I swear I only sent it to people I thought would appreciate it. And if I thought you would, and you didn’t, I’m so sorry. I guess, I don’t know, maybe we need to go to relationship counseling or something, because we obviously aren’t on the same page. HA!
  • Whether at soccer practice, a birthday party or a parent meeting, the following this are assured to happen: A parent will tell you more about them and their marriage than you ever want to know, a parent will make it clear their kid is above yours, a parent will make it clear their kids is below yours, a parent will disappear and you’ll judge them for not being involved, you’ll need to run somewhere and be judged for not being involved, and a whole bunch of other things. It’s important to remember that as much as you love/hate a certain parent, there are other parents that love/hate you. Oh well. It happens.
  • Every woman needs a few good girlfriends.
  • There is a great joy that comes with finding out that you’ve found yours.

(Not) Holding Out For A Hero

A few *cough* of you have noticed I’ve been AWOL from the world of social media recently. (Katie, I’m glad you don’t have to look up what this means anymore.) See, as it ends up, I may be willing to tell the world about my problems but I’m not so into sharing those of others. In vaguely general terms, someone who is close to me has been going through a trying time medically speaking and I have been doing what I can for my family to be there, both physically and emotionally and frankly, it’s been draining. (Many, many thanks to those of you who have been around to help out, both IRL and virtually.)

Though the past month has been a bit rough, it’s also demonstrated yet again why I am absolutely, 100 percently, with all of my heart devoted to Scoot, my very own super hero. People who know us see him as an introvert and me as an extrovert and think we get along because opposites attract. What they don’t realize is all the weird ways we’re alike as well. One of those is in how we deal with hardship.

See, we both become slightly obsessive…and during this last month that’s played out by us painting and decorating the upper floor of our house. It’s bizarre sounding, I’m sure, but bottom line is that painting into the weeeeeeeee hours of the morn’ allowed us to spend time having some difficult, but important, conversations.

We took this time to paint our bedroom (in celebration of our anniversary), Bop’s room (that we never use because he sleeps with DJ), and the playroom (which is now, 100% BOY). The theme of this room was born when DJ said he wanted it to be red. Of course we wouldn’t paint the whole room red, especially because two of the walls can be seen in our very open floor plan from our stairs, bedroom and hallway. We made a compromise: mommy got to pick the color on those two walls, DJ got his red wall and we settled on blue for final wall. With colors like that, what theme would work better than a super heroes one?

The Back Wall

(I’ve made my mom promise to sew covers for the pillows that are *supposed* to be on this couch to represent their five favorite super heroes)

The Window Wall

This is hands down my favorite part of the room, because really, what good is it to teach a young boy to admire a super hero without empowering him to become one on his own? (Vinyl lettering courtesy of It’s Written on the Wall on Etsy. It was originally designed in a rectangle shape but I was able to cut the words apart to make a single line.)

That desk holds the boys’ new netbook that I referenced in my last post. I’m planning on getting some shelves from Ikea to go over the desk to hold the workbooks that they love to do and some pens/pencils/markers. (BTW, if you’re wondering, those bodies hanging on the wall are outlines made in 2007 at DJ and Bop’s daycare…they’re a bit bigger now…heh.)

The TV Wall

We got these vinyl super heroes from Roommates Peel and Stick Decor. They were half the price of a Fathead and are a nice, thick vinyl that sticks well. (Please don’t comment on how Wolverine could really be moved up and to the left a smidge…I know…my OCD side is already obsessing about it and I’m pretty sure it will win out before day’s end.)

The Hidden Wall

My boys don’t understand that there’s a difference between Marvel and DC Comics and as a die-hard Batman fan, that breaks my heart. But, this isn’t my playroom, it’s theirs, so we tried to balance the two as much as possible. Also…you see that red wall? That was created with ONE COAT of Behr’s Primer + Paint. Seriously…we bought this because the woman working at the Home Depot paint counter lamented with us on a previous visit how much it sucks to paint a wall red (we’ve done it before…it took FOUR coats). We had her color-match the Martha Stewart Living color we had chosen (this wall is Maine Lobster, the other two are Yellow Magnolia and Azurite). One coat. That’s it. I’m still amazed.

We may have a weird way of dealing with difficult times but hey, at least our kids get a cool playroom out of it, right?

Three Fathers

You are my father. You held me on your lap as you finished your thesis. You brushed my teeth at night. You taught me to catch a fly ball and mow a lawn. You coached my soccer team. You told me a man should appreciate my curves. You walked me down the aisle. You placed your hands over my boys’ heads and let them know they’re loved. You are everything a father and grandfather should be.

You are my godfather and father-in-law. You taught me to love my heavenly father as much as my earthly one. You lent me your car. You lent me your ear. You asked “Who is this little girl wearing my son’s jersey?” You taught me to grow from that little girl to a woman, a wife, a mother, a Christian. You trusted me with your baby boy. You work hard to give my boys the same opportunities you gave your own. You are everything a godfather, father-in-law and grandfather should be.

You are the father of my children. You are gentle and kind and affectionate and silly. You provide structure and discipline and honesty and love. Every day you teach my boys the three things I cannot: how to be a good man, a good husband, a good father. You are everything a father and a husband should be.

I am so blessed to have so many great fathers in my life. May all of the fathers I know have a very Happy Fathers’ Day.

This Is What Happens When Your Brother Marries His High School Sweetheart

Scoot and I have been together since we were 16 years old. His older sister had just given birth to twins, known in our family as KNK. I changed their diapers, took them shopping with me, made them bottles, etc. They were my practice children.

They will be turning 16 this year. I’ve taken great pleasure in reminding family members that they’re *almost* to the age at which Scoot and I met. I hadn’t mentioned that fun fact to Scoot’s sister, who I consider one of my best friends in the world. That is, until today.

Then I sent her this text:

“Just be careful…next girl they bring home could be your future daughter in law and the mother of your grandchildren.”

I’m pretty sure she loves me even more now than she did before. :D

The Lazy Family’s Guide to Going Green

Seeing as I was raised in one of a number of cities that claim some ownership of Earth Day, I feel as though I’m compelled to write a post commemorating it.

So here are five things my family any lazy family can do to go green.

1. Decrease use of toxic home cleaning products by only cleaning the house twice a year. (Except the guest bathroom, of course. That should be spit shined twice a month.)

2. Reduce water usage by letting laundry pile up as long as possible and then pack the washing machine to capacity.

3. Reduce paper tissue waste by letting the kids walk around with runny noses and wrapping paper waste by not giving gifts.

4. Minimize greenhouse gas emissions and use of fossil fuels by playing hookie from work and school and just lying around the house all day.

5. Reduce the need for fertilizer by allowing dog poop to sit in yard until it dissolves.

Who said it ain’t easy being green? Oh right, a frog. What does he know?

Happy Earth Day!

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