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Jul 28 2010
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Blogging, Lemons, Me, Myself and I

I’m Just Going to Get My Bitchiness Out of the Way

Last year, I did the obligatory I wear flip flops all day/I have weird habits like brushing my teeth all the dang time/Squee!!! BlogHer!!! Post. Since then, my nickname hasn’t changed, nor has my affinity for comfy footwear and the occasional high heels. Therefore I thought I’d just get down to what you all really want to know…what makes me turn bitchy.

Generally speaking, I’m a pretty chipper person. I definitely see the cup half full and I’m always looking for silver linings. HOWEVER, there are a few things that will make me not so pleased…

  1. I broke my shin playing soccer when I was 16. I was in a full-leg cast for a few weeks, then a cast up to my knee for another couple of months. It sucked. It especially sucked because I was told after the cast was off that I had to have surgery to rebreak my leg and insert a metal rod and a few screws to straighten it out. When I had that surgery later in the fall, something screwy happened and that muscle that runs along my shin now sticks out like a golf ball when it’s flexed. Because of this I wear pants or jeans a lot – even in the 100 degree heat here in Sacramento. If you see me in jeans, please don’t ask me if I’m hot. Yes, I’m hot. It’s New York in August and I’m in jeans. A few years ago I got up the nerve to start wearing skirts. And then the “OMG, what happened to your leg?” comments started. Don’t do that. I don’t like it. I’ll be nice about it. I’ll be cordial. I promise I won’t go off on you.  (See #2) But it will annoy me. And to answer your questions: No I didn’t sue the doctor, I’m not even sure if he did something wrong or if this was going to happen no matter what. No, it doesn’t hurt. Yes, you can feel it (it’s squishy) but only if you don’t say, “Ewww” or, “That’s so weird” or, “Oh my gawd” afterwards which is basically the same thing as me saying No, you can’t feel it. Yes/No/I don’t know if it’s fixable. If it is – which is a big if, it isn’t medically necessary so insurance won’t pay for it and I can’t really envision a time in my life when I would ever prioritize getting my leg fixed over something like a diamond ring or an awesome vacation with my kids or a boob job (yeah, I said it, I nursed two kids for more than a year each…I could use a pick-me-up). If you’d like to pay for it, however, I’d happily accept your donation. :D No, you can’t dry hump it. Yes, I was (jokingly, of course) asked this question before. Yes, I gave the person who asked it the same answer. No, you won’t be getting special treatment.
  2. When DJ or B-Bop come to us to tattle, they always, ALWAYS hear the same thing from me and Scoot: “You worry about you.” We say this because we firmly believe that there will always be people in their lives whose actions and reactions they cannot control. This is the same with us adults too. The only thing we have any control over is how we react to a situation. If you want to complain about cliques and drama and parties and swag, please know that I don’t particularly want to hear it. I’ll listen if you need to vent (I’m not a total bitch), but I won’t be as upset about it as you are and it might get old to me after a not-so-long while. If you want to ruin your trip to one of the most expensive, interesting, beautiful cities in the world by worrying about other people, feel free. I, on the other hand, will be worrying about me. I will be with people who I want to be with (including, sometimes spending time by myself…see #3), doing what I want to do and having a blast. This is my general approach to life and it’s served me well so far, so I’m just going to stick with it.
  3. You have no control over this, but my super good attitude woohoo approach to life tends to expire after 3 days away from home. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just how I am. I leave home on Tuesday, I get home late Monday. You do the math.  I’m going to try real hard to not turn into a royal bitch by Saturday but if I decide to just have some chill time by myself, please know it’s not you, it’s me. I promise you I’m not shunning you forever. I’m probably on the phone with my boys or taking a nap or wandering around the hotel by myself. It’s ok. We’ll both be ok. I promise chipper me will be back momentarily so just carry on and I’ll let you know when she is.
  4. I get overtired. I need sleep and a lot of it. I do best with 8 hours a night. On weekends I add a nap to that mix. If I don’t get my 8 hours, everything listed above will be exacerbated. I do have control over this. I will do my best to prevent this, but it’s probably inevitable. Nothing that a good nap won’t fix, though.

I think I’ll just stop before you think I’m a very big bitch. I promise you, I’m not. 99.9% of you that I meet will not encounter bitchy Emmie at all while we’re in New York. But for the .1% of you who might maybe might (you know who you are), please allow me to say in advance I’m sorry. 

Now stop staring at my leg.

Jul 26 2010
8 Comments
Family, Health & Exercise, Lemons, Marriage, Me, Myself and I, My Boys, Parenting

(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?

Jun 16 2010
4 Comments
Lemons, Me, Myself and I, My Boys, Parenting

The Tortoise and The Hare

My dad is a storyteller. He is also a (often bad) comedian. He loves a fable and its moral, a joke and its punchline. He taught me to appreciate both.

Growing up one of my favorite fables he’d tell me was the story of the tortoise and the hare. I retold a version it to Scoot on our first date. We both remember it well.

To this day, some of my favorite sayings are “Slow and steady wins the race,” “Good things come to those who wait,” and “Patience is a virtue.” They’re all variations on a theme.

So often I forget this about parenting. By pretty much all measures, DJ was an easy kid and a predictable learner. He crawled at four months, walked at nine. He learned to talk by-the-books, one syllable at a time. He hit pretty much all the developmental milestones as he should, slowly and steadily.

Bop is an all-at-once type of guy. He crawled late but walked soon thereafter. His first word was not “mama” or “dada” but “bat-eh-bol” (basketball). At 21 months, when I was growing slightly concerned that he was barely saying any words, I took him to a grocery store. As we walked through he was pointing and saying something. It took me two laps around the store to realize he could read and say every aisle number between one and nine. I was so amazed I took a video of me typing numbers into the computer (out of order) and him shouting them out. I then found out he knew them all in Spanish as well as English. I had no idea where it all came from.

He’ll go through what feels like eternity-long phases when he doesn’t change much. Then suddenly, without warning, he’s mastered a new skill (or ten) or developed a new personality trait seemingly overnight. It’s happened again and again.

Last August, the two weeks we spent doing parent-participation swim lessons with him were some of the most agonizing of my parenting career. Bop insisted on me (not daddy) going with him and then refused to do anything he was asked. He didn’t learn much, I was frustrated and Scoot and I both worried that we wasted our money. I was thrilled when the parks and rec department suggested he move up to the older class this year. No parents allowed.

Monday was his first day. He was woefully unprepared. He wanted to stay with DJ. Then he wanted me to go with him. When neither happened, he just stood there, then later he begrudgingly went to the shallow end with his teacher, always just far enough out of her reach that she couldn’t touch him. She finally coaxed him to join her on a ride to the deeper end and he promptly FREAKED. Despite attempts at gently urging him and flat-out bribing him, he was basically kicked out of class on his first day.

[Let me pause here for a moment to make sure I'm not accused of pushing my kids too hard. Swim lessons are unlike any other sport to me. I couldn't care less about him being good enough at swimming to do it competitively. All I care about is that he's safe in and around water. Babies take swim lessons. Certainly my nearly four year old who likes to go to the pool to play and spends all day being instructed by other adults should be able to as well.]

Between Monday and Tuesday, I’d been coaching him to be prepared to go into the water with his teachers (and not mommy and daddy). I’ll admit it, I even bribed him. (Our bribery song this time went, “B-Bop goes swimming in the pool with Ms. Katie, B-Bop gets candy, B-Bop gets candy.” Yet no matter what promises I made him, he repeatedly said “No!” when asked if he was going to go in the pool at his swimming lessons.

I spent all day yesterday fretting. I rushed home from work and put my own bathing suit on under my clothes, convinced he’d get remediated to the parent-participation class full of 18 month olds.

When we got there, I had to get both kids settled at two ends of the pool by myself. I told them to take off their shirts and flip flops. They both did. I was perplexed by Bop’s willingness to do so with just one command but didn’t want to get my hopes up. I decided to get DJ settled and then deal with Bop.

He was a bit shy at first. Instead of sitting with his feet in the pool next to his peers, he sat behind them. The female lead teacher (not Ms. Katie) asked who his teacher was the day before. I told her but added he didn’t do well and wouldn’t stay with her in the water. She instead assigned him to a young man who looks more like a football player than a swimmer.

Scoot and I stood about 6 feet from the pool watching nervously, waiting for him to freak again. Bop kept looking back at us, but instead of reaching for me like he had on Monday, he’d smile and wave.

My hopes rose as the tension in my shoulders dropped.

After about five minutes I was able to go sit on the side with the other parents. Bop was smiling, listening and (are you sitting down for this one?) doing his “kickers!”

I was so proud of him! Afterwards I met his teacher and explained what happened the day before. He said, “No, he did great!”

Bop got his candy and I got what I’ve been waiting a year for: a huge Bop smile, a show of pride in his accomplishment and his enthusiastic head nod when asked if he wants to go back tomorrow.

These times come when parenting. A brief moment to take a deep breath and revel in the successes of your child before they’re off to climb their next mountain.

We’ve been spoiled with DJ. He’s given us these moments slowly and steadily throughout his whole life. We’ve had to invest more in milestones with Bop. But I have to tell you, I’m finally seeing the myriad joys that come with raising both a tortoise and a hare.

Aug 26 2009
1 Comment
Blogging, Lemons, Me, Myself and I

Nineteen Years

I wanted to make sure to thank those of you who commented on my post about restitution and to tell you the outcome of the hearing.

Two weeks ago, I spoke with the deputy district attorney in Los Angeles County. I wanted to know if we should consider flying down for the restitution hearing scheduled for last Thursday. He asked what my requested restitution was. “Ten thousand, five hundred, fourteen dollars and ninety two cents,” I said. *Silence* He was a bit stunned. (Apparently that’s a lot of money.) In fact, he first said he thought that it’d be a good idea, but after a while he convinced himself, and me, that it was unnecessary. Just send everything down and we’ll show it to the judge, he said. He also mentioned he’d be appreciative if I wouldn’t mind including a copy for the defense attorney so he wouldn’t have to. Budget cuts and all.

So I did what I do: I created a spreadsheet (if you know me IRL, this will come as absolutely no surprise to you). I numbered each line. In the columns I entered the store I’d have to buy a replacement item from, a description of the item, the price. I included the body work, the rental car, the replacement home and car keys, the iPod, the blackberry, the carseat, the basketball, and one day of pay for each of us. (We took the Monday after the theft off to deal with it, though in all honesty that 8 hours dramatically underrepresents the amount of time this cost us.) At the bottom I totalled it. $10,514.92.

I photocopied every receipt and next to it wrote in the number which corresponded to the line item in the spreadsheet.

I typed up a letter explaining my methodology. At the end of the letter I told the Deputy DA about my blog post. I told him I included a copy and that I understood that the purpose of restitution is to recover actual damages, not emotional distress. I told him to do with it what he may.

I copied the entire pack of papers, put two copies in an envelope and FedEx’d them down south.

Thursday afternoon, Scoot got a call. The judge ordered full restitution. From now on, we have the legal right to sue him for that money. (Let’s be honest, though, the vast majority of it belongs to Allstate.) The Deputy DA commented to Scoot that he’d never seen such a detailed, organized packet put together like that. Heh.

He also said that the defense attorney has my letter to the defendant. I have no idea what he’s going to do with it. He could keep it in his file, throw it away, or give it to the guy who turned our world upside down for a couple of months. I’m not sure I care one way or the other but it’s a bit strange not knowing what’s going to happen with it.

Either way, as I said on Twitter, score a moral victory for justice. This was never about money. It was about him taking responsibility for his actions. He’s now got a prison sentence, a letter about D, and a big financial debt to take on. I hope just one of those things, just one, provides him with the motivation he needs to stay out of trouble when he gets out in late 2010 or early 2011 (assuming he’s on good behavior). With all of my being, I really hope he’s learned his lesson. He’s only 19 years old.

 

On a side note, I’d like to thank the Monterey Park Police Department and the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office for dealing with our case as quickly as they did. Sure they had a lot of help from a guy who was caught red-handed with priors for the same offense, and it was in their best interest to move the case to conclusion as quickly as possible. Nonetheless I really appreciate their commitment to communicating with us about the case and getting it handled so fast.

Aug 02 2009
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Lemons, Me, Myself and I

Restitution

It’s been a while since I wrote about our car theft fiasco. I didn’t want to dwell on it, bore people, or give out any information that could jeopardize the criminal case. A few weeks ago, the young man who was arrested while driving our car pled guilty and was sentenced to three years in state prison.

This week we received a letter from the District Attorney asking for our accounting of the financial toll that his theft has caused. The judge will take these amounts into consideration at his restitution hearing later this month.

I have never been the victim of a crime so I’m unsure of how/whether restitution works. But I have to admit to being a bit frustrated about having to, once again, spend my time on this. Am I ever actually going to get any of this money? Should I bother wasting my time? According to the American Heritage Dictionary, restitution is, “The act of restoring to the rightful owner something that has been taken away, lost, or surrendered.” Does it really matter if I fill out these forms, as there is no way to appropriately account for the real impact the theft had on our family?

All of this has got me thinking about the people I know, online and off, who have been victimized in ways I cannot even fathom. My heart breaks for them and what they’ve been through. I get enraged when I think of the fact that, regardless of whether you’re an eye-for-an-eye type or a bleeding heart, no justice system can ever get rid of the feelings that come along with being the victim of a crime.

Rather than ruminate in my frustration (yes, I totally learned that word from Aladdin, so what?), I think the best way to honor crime victims, as well as our criminal justice system, is to maximize the rights afforded to me under state law. I suppose the good news is that I already have to submit most of these receipts to Allstate, who has promised to reimburse us for a good chunk of the out-of-pocket costs we’ve incurred, and if they do, they’ll chase after the court-ordered restitution instead of us. Way to pass the buck, right?

To be quite frank, I’m kind of over this whole thing. I’m over thinking about this guy and what he did or didn’t do to/in our car. I’m over feeling guilty that a 19 year-old kid is messing up his life, as if I had anything to do with his stupid decisions. I’m over my son asking me whether he’s in jail and when he’s going to get out. I’m over the fact that I gained weight and spent more than I could afford while eating out because I was too distracted to cook at home. I’m over the fact that the one thing that might really make me feel better is to know he feels bad about what he did and that it’s highly likely that it’ll never happen.

Tomorrow I’m going to fill out the restitution forms and then I.am.over.it.

Jun 20 2009
5 Comments
Lemons, Me, Myself and I, My Boys

Lessons Learned: My Silver Lining

So the tale of the stolen car appears to be approaching an end. Last Sunday morning at 12:30 am we got a call. From the Monterey Park police. Yeah, we didn’t know where Monterey Park was either. Ends up, the ever-diligent police in Monterey Park recovered our car. This is still an active investigation criminal case going on so I’m not going to go into too many details but the car just returned from its journey back up the 400+ miles to a shop up here for some minor repairs and major detailing.

I’m hoping this post is the last I’ll have to say about this drama, as I already detailed pieces of this saga here and here. But I wanted to take the time to reflect on some of the lessons that I’ve learned and things I’ve discovered from this mess. Hopefully some of them will be helpful to others. In honor of my fabulous (and first) girls’ night out last week with Meghan, I’m going to completely steal imitate her bulleted post style. (Imitation is the highest form of flattery, honey. Just go with it.)

BTW, I had so much fun with Meghan, Julie and Andrea. I’ve known Julie was awesome for a long time since she’s my friend and colleague but this was my first time meeting Meghan and Andrea in real life and they’re both awesome and not crazy axe murderers. Double bonus! Anyway, back to my lessons… Here we go…

  • When you buy a new car, make sure you insure it right away. In California there is a period during which you are assumed to have coverage through your existing insurance company. However, this is one of those things I’d rather not press my luck on. No Whammies! We had double-checked to make sure the insurance paperwork went through. Literally the morning that the car was stolen. Thank gawd! Also, this is a great time to go over your coverage with your insurance agent. Here are some questions to consider:
    • If you had an accident today, how would you pay the deductible? Do you have the cash on hand? If not, maybe you should consider dropping your deductible (which means paying more per month but not tons more). Not doing so has a name. It’s called “self-insurance.” And it’s a risk. Perhaps a good risk but a risk nonetheless.
    • Do you need a gap policy (which covers the difference between the value of your car and the amount you actually owe)? If you owe money on your car and either paid sticker price or don’t know what invoice price is, the answer is probably yes, at least for the first few years. If you’ve already paid off your note, the answer is definitely no.
    • If your car went into the shop for repairs, would you need a rental? If so, paying a couple of bucks a month to get coverage for one might be a good idea. We’ve had ours for 18 days so far and will not be getting rid of it for at least another week and half.
  • Capital One was on to something…it’s a good idea to know what’s in your wallet. The car was stolen at 5:32 pm-ish. By 5:55 pm we had every credit card, check card, etc. shut down. (Reminder: Scoot’s wallet was in the car when it was stolen.) Saved us a whole lot of hassle dealing with identity theft or credit card fraud on top of grand theft auto. According to the officer who took our case, the first thing car thieves often do is fill the car up with gas, especially if they got a victim’s credit card with it. (Because, really? Who’s checking IDs at a gas station?) When you notify the credit card company, their fraud protection unit can coordinate with the police (you need to give them your case number) to track when and where it’s used. Or so they say. We haven’t been notified of any fraudulent card use so I can’t personally vouch for this.
  • Big customer service fail for Best Buy attempting to sell that credit card protection while I was reporting a card stolen. Credit card ambulance chasing sucks. I’ll forgive them because they give me awesome 0% interest deals all the time but it really was not ideal timing.
  • It’s a great idea to learn how to rekey a lock. Because those locksmiths kind of want to be paid for their work and when it’s midnight on Friday night and you have no method of payment (see above) they’re not real likely to come out and help. It’s also great if you have an awesome neighbor who will teach you how to rekey a lock, and who has a rekeying kit at his house because you’d never think to buy such a thing.
  • Photocopy your registration, black out your address and carry that copy in your car. That way if someone gets into your car, you don’t have to worry about whether or not they know where you live. (Hat tip to our uncle who works for the CHP.)
  • It’s a good idea not to carry more stuff in your car than you need. Today when I went through the contents of our car, there were things in there I didn’t even realize were there. Like the sunscreen I bought that D kept insisting was in there. The only reason they stole D’s golf clubs was because they were there. Luckily, this car didn’t have all that much stuff in it. It’s a good thing they didn’t get our other car.
  • Along the same vein, it’s a good idea (if you can be organized and have enough foresight) not to carry extra keys with you. Really? Did we need to have our mailbox keys with our car keys? We paid $30 to replace the lock for what? The convenience of not having to go inside when we get home to get the mailbox key? We barely check our mail anyway.
  • Speaking of mail. If you ever have your mailbox key AND your wallet stolen, make sure you rekey your mailbox. If you reorder all your credit cards, they’ll show up in your mailbox. If the thief can still get in your mailbox, um, yeah, that’s a problem and sort of defeats the purpose of getting new credit cards.
  • Panic serves no one. Nor does anger, bitterness or vengeance. Humor, on the other hand, serves almost everyone.
  • Criminals make mistakes. That’s when they get caught. In this matter, patience is a virtue.
  • Cops who have a car stolen in their jurisdiction are not real helpful.
  • Cops who recover a stolen car, especially one being driven by someone who is not the owner of said car, are very helpful.
  • So far I’ve felt like I’m in good hands with my insurance company. Our claims specialist has done a great job communicating with us through all of this. Our claims adjustor was very patient with me today. They’ve at least listened to all of our random requests. And someone who works for one of their competitors said great things about them. I’ll save my grading for when the semester is over but the interim report card would read, “Keep up the good work.”
  • Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We signed the car over to Allstate last Friday and were simply awaiting confirmation that they’d paid off our loan when the cops called to tell us they had the car. We were planning on going back out into the new car market again that day. Alas, we didn’t need to since they hadn’t in fact paid it. But going from thinking you’re getting a new car to getting an “old” car that’s dinged and dingy is a steep drop. We would’ve been in less shock if we hadn’t already moved on to the next thing.

The last lesson I learned is much too important for a bullet. Through this whole fiasco, it has been our five year old, D, who has led us, not the other day around. I’ve been very honest with him about this whole thing and have tried to answer his questions when he’s had them. But it’s been his answers to my questions that have guided me. When I wanted to lash out in anger, he said he wants to be friends with the guy who stole our car so that he can teach him to do good things. When I wanted to cry, he said he’d rather have our car back broken than get a new one. When I was resigned, he enthusiastically hugged his newly-returned golf clubs.

As strange as this might sound when talking about a kid that’s more than a foot shorter than me, I’ve come to look up to him. I’ve been seeking guidance from him, instead of the other way around. And though I believe my kid is special, I don’t actually think that he’s the only five year old in the world who could, would or does serve this role for a family. There is something so raw, innocent, straight-forward, non-egotistical, unaffected about how kids look at the world that I’m just glad to have one in my life to remind me where my priorities are. Because at the end of the day, they’re definitely not with a car.

May 30 2009
5 Comments
Family, Friends, Lemons, Me, Myself and I

May Can #SuckIt: My Little Post of Cheer

Those of you who follow me on Twitter, or who work with me, or who know me IRL, probably know that May has been a crazy month with a lot of highs and lows. Early in the month, the Roadrunners (a basketball club run by my father-in-law and my husband’s childhood friends on the Peninsula) were in town for a tournament and the 16 & under team won the championship. It was a great weekend for me, not only as a basketball spectator, but also as a tangential member of the East Palo Alto/East Menlo Park community where many of these kids come from (and where I worked at a summer program with a couple of them when they were MUCH younger), and as the mother of a child who loves that community like it was his own family. I owe an entire post to what great things our friends and family are doing with this basketball club, but suffice it to say that I am proud of the 100+ people who came out to watch the 16s championship game, outnumbering the spectators of a local team four-to-one.

Then came Mother’s Day, and our annual tradition of having brunch with practically every mother we’re related to. This is by far the biggest holiday (person wise) of the year for our family, as Scoot’s grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, and nephews all come and my parents, sister and nephew attend. It was a great day and, of course, D was sad to have to say goodbye and head back to the Sacramento area for another week of school.

That Monday, we went to D’s first golf class, which was cancelled because of rain. He was SO disappointed. Later that week I had some meetings at work that just didn’t go the way I had wanted them to. I felt very frustrated and demoralized and, quite frankly, pissed. After work on Thursday, Scoot suggested that we go – again – to a car dealership (we had been basically every night for the previous two weeks so I was just over it) to buy our car. Though I was in the kind of mood where I could have killed someone, I actually decided to use my frustrating week to my advantage. I was a much more aggressive negotiator and we walked out of the Hyundai dealer with a 2009 Hyundai Sonata Limited for a steal great price. At last, our new car purchase was over and I could get on with life.

The following weekend Scoot helped his friend by serving as an assistant coach in another Roadrunner’s tournament (this time for the 15 and under team). They lost but it was still a lot of fun watching him out there. I think he was a good influence on the boys and on the coach, who just so happens to be the person primarily responsible for Scoot and me getting together.

On Saturday, I also took D and B to see a local high school performance of Music Man. We’re going to see Lion King in June and have been taking the boys to these high school shows (D and I saw Beauty and the Beast last month) as practice. Though B slept through the first half, and was a bit antsy during the second half, D thoroughly enjoyed it and has asked to get into theater himself.

A week or so later I was introduced, through a mutual friend on Twitter, to a chiropractor, Dr. Jared Thomas. I mentioned that the time may have finally come to seek help, after a not so helpful experience with my regular physician. At my annual exam earlier in May, I mentioned to her that I have had chronic neck, shoulder and back pain for a number of years now (the first date I can pinpoint is the week after I had D). I’m only 30 years old, I told her, I’m WAY too young to have chronic pain. Because I thought it might be related to the scoliosis that Mrs. Pfaff diagnosed in 8th grade PE, her response was, “Well, you can go to physical therapy but there’s not much else you can do. It’s only going to get worse.” Now, I like this doctor (honestly, in large part because she told me on my first visit that she, too, had a miscarriage and that I wasn’t alone in the depression that set in after mine), but I felt defeated after being told that at 30, things are only going to get worse. I don’t want to be “crooked as a seven,” as Scoot’s grandma would say. So, I went in to see Dr. Thomas. He took x-rays and walked out and said, “Are you sure you’ve never been in a car accident?” Not exactly what you want to hear when someone is looking at your x-ray and the answer is actually no. He walked through my diagnosis and recommended that I start working with him for the next 12 weeks. Highly skeptical of non-”mainstream” medical practice and hoping to get my treatment covered by insurance, I called my doctor who told me to come into the office for yet more x-rays. She confirmed his diagnosis: my neck, which should have a curve to it, is straight. We had a conversation about going to a chiropractor for treatment versus going to a physical therapist and I’m going to give Dr. Thomas a try. But the whole experience just again made me wonder what life will be like in 20 years if I can’t fix this now. What about 40 years? None of my grandparents lived fewer than 83 years! That’s a long time from now. So, we’ll see how it goes. Can’t wait to update you all on the progress.

I also can’t wait to tell you how my first 5K goes. My training continues for the Roseville Community Crime Stoppers Fun Run on the 4th of July. I haven’t been perfect at sticking to my training schedule, but I’ve been out at least twice a week and am now running about 12 minutes without stopping, a dramatic improvement over the short sprints I’m used to doing. Though I’m seeing a change in my muscle tone (yay!), I haven’t lost a single pound (boo!). Either way, I’m sure I’ll be ready for the 5K next month.

The rest of the month really sucked at work. It wasn’t all of work, in fact, I’m getting pulled into a bunch of new projects that are really exciting and pushing me to learn. But I was responsible for dealing with some uncomfortable issues with vendors and consultants that made me feeling a deep sense of empathy and frustration and powerlessness, despite the fact that I was responsible and being held accountable for their resolution. Add to that some major technological issues as I was trying to wrap up work early on Friday and I was just overall not real pleased with the month of May.

Just as I thought I had escaped the last of the month – about 20 minutes from home on Friday afternoon – I get a phone call from Scoot. “Emmie, don’t go home. Someone took my keys. They have the car.”

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?! (OK, I’ll admit it, the first thing out of my mouth was, “Stop lyin’!”)

I don’t feel like going into the details, but the short story is Scoot was playing basketball at a gym where he was given a guest pass. Like everyone else, he put his keys on the side of the court and someone picked them up, walked out into the parking lot and drove away in my car. Yes, the new one. I don’t know how this story will turn out – I’ve heard from many friends that they’ve had their cars stolen only to have them reappear within a few days – but needless to say, this weekend, which was supposed to be one for relaxing and getting the house in order before a number of consecutive busy weekends, has now been spent changing locks, and filing police reports and insurance claims. It sucks. Badly.

Yet, whenever these things that suck go on in my life, my mind always goes back to the little Hallmark book, The Little Book of Cheer, that I had as a child, which a number of Ms. Universe 1983 contestants autographed for me while we dined at Red Lobster in St. Louis. (I have a newspaper blurb about meeting them, complete with picture…I’ll have to scan it and add it in here.) Though I know nothing about these women, it’s not their autographs that have made that book a part of my life, but rather the simple little poem in it that has seen me through my toughest times. It goes, in part, like this:

Sometimes when you don’t feel so good or things don’t go just ask they should,

It helps to think of cheery things – like a garden alive with butterfly wings

Or a rainbow’s promise after the rain and morning’s gold through your window pane.

Think of fluffy kittens who love your squeezes, dandelion puffs you can blow in the breezes,

And friends who say “bless you” after your sneezes…

Cheer up! Things are never as bad as they seem if you dream your favorite kind of dream…

Remember the people who can’t do without you and letters that say, “I’ve been thinking about you!”

Tomorrow you may hear a new secret told or find a new friend and a warm hand to hold.

So if you’re not feeling good, if it’s raining outside or in your heart, don’t be blue.

Think of all the happy things there are in the world for you.

For when you cheer up, it cheers those who love you; simply because they think the world of you!

Thank you to all of you who have endured life’s tough times with me. When I told D that the guys who stole our car took his golf clubs too (they were in the trunk), he started to cry. I asked if his daddy was here and safe? He said yes. “Is your mommy here and safe?” “Yes.” “Is your brother here and safe?” “Yes.” “Isn’t that what matters?” “Yes.” “Because, D, always remember that things are replacable. It’s people that aren’t. And everyone who loves you is here. And that’s all that matters.”

I guess it’s time for me to practice what I preach and say a big thank you to all of you who are here for me through thick and thin. Whether you’re a new Twitter friend or a family member I’ve know my whole life, I appreciate you. Thanks so much for dealing with me and my drama this month and always.

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