In my defense . . .

Kudos to Matt for taking such initiative and posting to my blog - this is the first, and hopefully not the last time we will hear from him.

What he forgot to mention, is that six-year-old Emmy completely over-exaggerated the situation in her letter.  First of all, I am almost always in support of children "singing happily" - except when that means singing at the top of one's lungs, long after light's out, while someone else (Sophie) is trying to sleep.  Second of all, in this situation I did not lose my temper.  I wish I could say that I never lose my temper - but alas, it has happened more than once.  But in this case, I was firm, calm, and in control.

Luckily, I wrote Emmy back, put the note on her pillow, and when she woke up, she was so thrilled to have a note in response that she forgot why she was angry in the first place.

Be Treated How You Would Want To Be Treated

There has been both drama and scandal in the Steiger home! Since learning how to write, Emmy uses the almighty pen to express her feelings, usually of anger or sadness. She will quickly turn on her little bed light to find the pen and paper she has stashed up by her bed. Then she goes to work, writing the passions of her troubled heart. Tonight Emmy presented me, Matt, with a letter that I was to urgently have Katie read the instant she came home. I then had to promise I would have Katie respond with a note this very night. Well here are the skeletons in our closet, presented by Emmy (Emmy your mother will be sure to not miss your note by my posting this for all to see :)):


Wold you like to be yeled at and somewon being mean when you are singing hapily? Be Treated how you wold whant to be treated. this skripshur I keep in my mind evreday. I triy not to let go of it. I think you shold do this to. 


P.S. it also helps your temper.


Love, your doter Emmy


Thank you to all of Emmy's fabulous primary teachers that have helped her learn this Golden Rule, and in turn teach it to my amazing, wonderful, and temper-filled wife. Oh yeah, Katie: Matthew 7:12

saying goodbye

Once upon a time, Matt and I did not have children.  He was an accountant, and I was a teacher.  We lived in a cute one-bedroom apartment on the top floor of a law firm.  One day, we heard through the grapevine that we had new neighbors who were about our age and who went to our church.  Back then, Matt was a little bit shy.  (He has since grown out of that).  So when I suggested we go and meet our new neighbors, he hesitated a little.  We brought over some brownies and introduced ourselves to Heather and Dave.  And our lives were never the same.  

Eight years went by.  That is the equivalent of high school and college put together.  In those early years, pre-kids, we enjoyed many late game nights and conversations sometimes into the early morning hours.  We had so. much. fun.  Slowly, our numbers grew.  I had Emmy and Heather visited me every day for two weeks, admiring my sweet little redhead almost as much as me.  A year and a half later, Heather and Dave had Abby.  I will never forget the joy I felt when they cleverly announced they were pregnant.  What a thrill! I'll also never forget Heather and I urgently going to Target to buy her a Christmas tree.  We thought she might go into labor at any second.  Anyway, time really flew by after that - more kids, more good times, and always this feeling that we needed to savor the time we had . . . because Palo Alto might not be permanent.  

And so, this March, Heather and Dave and their three cute kiddos moved to Denver.  We miss them!  The only happy ending to this story, is that I know we will always be friends.  Still . . . I can't help but be a bit sad and sentimental about the end of a big chapter in our lives.  

The night of their departure - I think we're all laughing here to keep from crying

How did we come to have all of these children?

Heather and Dave are only minutes away from getting to see Matt cry