A Week of Thanks – Day 3

21 11 2006

Day 3 – I’m thankful to be me.


“One of these things are not like the others.”

Growing up I used to always look at this picture of my sisters, my mom and me and know I was different (I’m in red).  (Of course it didn’t help when my sisters used to cruelly insist that I was adopted.)  And I was different.  I was an “Emy” in a house with a Lisa, Jennifer, and a Debbie.  I hated my name growing up.  I hated my middle name (Lou) even more; it sounded so country.   I acted different too.  I was the one who would cry at a drop of a hat.  I once cried in first grade because I was the only one who brought my lunch.  I was so painfully shy that I used to hide behind my mother’s legs.  As a mother of a child who is also shy, I feel for her.  I can’t imagine having a sensitive child as well!  I was the one who loved Barbies the most.  I carried purses from the time I was in kindergarden.  I loved to draw.  I read constantly.  I was quiet.  I was smart, the nerd of the family.

I still feel very different from my family (and even more so from my husband’s family) but I embrace my differentness now.  I love my name (incidentally as much as I always hated living in the country as a child, I find that that is my desire as an adult.)  I’m still the arty, quiet one.  I’m still the one who is likely to show up somewhere waaaaaaay overdressed, just because I like pretty clothes.  I’m good with that.  I’m glad I found myself early on.  I hope  that Cale enjoys being “Cale”.

Yes, its good to be me.



2 responses

21 11 2006

I can identify 100%. The best part about growing up so different from the rest of your family (and even the rest of the world) is that you know what not to do in the future. That’s good that you “found yourself early”. I wish I could say the same. My mom still makes me feel weird about myself and my quirks–not because she’s a bad person, but because she doesn’t understand the importance of being unique. My kids are going to be special, but more importantly, they’re going to know that they’re special. And not just in a generic “you’re special, I’m special, we’re all special” kind of way, but in a very real sense. They’re going to love being themselves, dammit. ^_^

21 11 2006

PS: Look at Little Emy! Kee-yooot!

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