KimberlyMichelle

Memphis and Lincoln really need to step up their game.

Happy May Day everyone!

Omelette from Madeline Sharafian on Vimeo.

Last year, for Father’s Day, I purchased Mr. M a custom iPhone case from Uncommon featuring a photo of him and Miss L on Easter. Miss L took lots of pride in the fact that her photo was on Daddy’s phone, and pointed it out to all friends and family members that she could. And Mr. M loved being able to show off a cute photo of the two of them at the ready.

When my current iPhone 4s rubber case started getting too loose to be useful anymore, I decided that I’d go ahead and gift myself an Uncommon case with a Miss L twist as well, but a little different this time. I went up to the craft room and sorted through her piles of artwork from school and home, and landed on this piece she had made using my Crayola air brush sprayer. 

I went ahead and scanned it, then uploaded it to Uncommon’s website, and at the end of the week, this is what arrived!

I opted for the Clearly UN Deflector case, which made my white background visible but still wrapped the design around the phone.

And on my phone, it looks even better!

It barely took Miss L a minute to recognize her artwork. “Mommy! You got a new cover for your phone! And it’s my drawing!”

That smile completely cemented the decision as a good one. Now I have a custom case like no other out there, and it’s all thanks to Miss L!

If you want to treat yourself to a new iPhone case from Uncommon, now is the time to do it! They’re having a buy one get one free (BOGO!) sale from April 22 – April 24th.

That means you can treat yourself to a case and gift one as well… maybe one for you for Mom’s Day and save the other for June and Dad’s day? Or grandparents? Or… well anyone else really!

And… if you want to spoil yourself even more, you can enter a contest here to win a $50 gift certificate to Uncommon for yourself! Just use the Rafflecopter application below!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*I was provided with a custom iPhone case from Uncommon in order to facilitate my review. No compensation was received. All opinions are my own.

I hate bullies. My stomach turns to mush when I see them pop up in videos of coaches berating their players, or the latest story of a teenager that can’t stand the torment and ended their life, or in the comments section of the local newspaper or blog disguised as banter. Little bully snippets make me want to be a teacher again and teach kids OUT of that way of thinking before it’s too late. They makes me think hard about the friends I want to see around Miss L in her life growing up.

And they make me remember that anyone can be a bully at any time to anyone.

Will you pledge to end bullying with me? All it takes is your name and email address to show your support… nothing else.

These last few weeks, the Rutgers coaching situation brought up conversations of “character building” in sports. That being tough on your kids as a coach will make them tough. But bullying… it’s different. It tears apart your foundations even when you don’t want it to. It’s not one little incident but something that wears on you consistently and won’t go away.

I started playing softball when I was 9 years old and kept it up until high school. It was “the cool sport” for girls where I grew up. Everyone was fishing for a softball scholarship before they even got to high school, and my classmates built batting cages in their backyards and spent hundreds of dollars on weekly batting and pitching coaches. In the end some girls did get to play D1 ball, go to the Olympics, and many more barely got scholarships at D2 schools. I just liked playing the game, and being a part of the ballpark on a sunny Spring day.

That was, until I had a bully for a coach.

He was a father of a girl that was a year below me in school. I was taller than him at the time, so let’s say he was not over 5’8 and I weighed maybe 110 lbs. I was gangly at that point, but still was a decent player. I thought it was the year that I’d get a chance at being the lanky 1st baseman who was 6” taller than everyone on the field, but despite what I thought was a good effort, I was sent to the outfield with all the girls who were a year younger than me. And I did well playing left and center field, and batting consistently. But I didn’t have a lot of fun. The head coach would make little comments about any little mistake I made, even if I only made one that day. He’d use me as an example to the rest of the players of what not to do. And my love for the sport slowly started fading away.

Then came the spillover. I missed a call with the short stop during a game and a run scored in a game and we lost. It was a bad play on both our parts, which is why they have a stat for “errors” in the game. They happen.  The next practice, my coach stood on the field and started hitting fly balls at the outfield non-stop and screaming at me to catch them. Sure we were rotating to catch them, but when it was my turn he’d hit it purposely short or over my head and SCREAM at me to get it. Just me. If I dropped one, he screamed louder. Then, after the drill and practice was over, he walked up to me and screamed obscenities in my face. I kept my calm in the moment and swallowed down every tear. I packed up my gear and walked the short two blocks home.

And I told my parents I wasn’t playing softball ever again. I didn’t want to go to school and see the faces of all my teammates, who probably thought I was as worthless as he did. I didn’t want to get into the batting box and strike out and meet his expectations. I wanted to give up and crawl into a corner and hide.

My parents were in shock when I explained why. I remember repeating the story because they just couldn’t hear what I said. They made calls that night, and the next week, and went to the board meeting to discuss what happened. They asked that the man be removed from coaching again. It didn’t happen. They encouraged and supported me to go back and play in spite of the coach because they didn’t want this ugly bully taking the game away from me. They didn’t want this coach to ruin my love of the game, but I couldn’t walk into that dugout or talk to him without shaking inside. No matter what he said, or any other coach said, I played with fear in my heart for that happening again. Logically, I knew he was a scared little bully of a man/father/coach. But as a kid, he took all elements of “fun” out of the game.

And all those people my parents talked to? They didn’t stand up for me. They stood up for this silly institution in our area and the little club that these fathers had created to get their daughters a softball scholarship. Heaven forbid the season be a little messed up, or someone be miffed, by removing a grown man who cussed out a little girl on a softball field.

As Miss L grows up, I know I can’t protect her at all times, or fix the world around her. But I’m taking a pledge today to against bullying in every form because I don’t want to repeat mistakes I’ve seen made in the past. I want her to live in a better world, and this is just one way toward that.

Thanks to TakePart for sponsoring today’s discussion.

Last week, before Easter arrived, Miss L and I went out in the afternoon sun to take photos. I had been virtually inspired by a super talented neighborhood blogger, Ashlee, who had held a pop-up portrait session in the same field just a few days before.   The deal was that if I got to take some photos of her in her Easter dress, then she could wander around and take photos of the fields and the yellow flowers. Well… taking photos of an adventurous and squirrely 3-year-old in a field of flowers with a setting sun is not an easy task… but  I’m happy that we got some precious moments captured in my frantic button pushing.

On the other side of the camera, Miss L revealed her talents for photography that far exceed my own.

Now if we could only convince some kid-camera makers to include a stability option… we’d be golden!

If you happened to call upon our house for a visit this week, and asked for a playdate with a puppy, you might be sorely disappointed. The second that Lincoln bounded to the door, with Memphis not far behind him, you’d dispute his status as a puppy. You’d argue that you’d seen the cute photos of a fluffball and wanted to see that version of a sub 10 lb cutie. Instead, you’d see a puppy that has outgrown his sister and won’t stop growing for another year.

But trust me. He’s a puppy. He whimpers and gnaws.

And gnaws some more. He only comes when he’s called every 3rd time, and we’ve all developed a new deep and powerful, “NO!” in our vocabulary.

But he’s also a teddy bear, of the Gund variety of softness. And his sweet disposition is already shining through those mischievous puppy deeds. His bear paws are massive, especially when he steps on you… just to make sure you’re really there.

And Memphis has a seriously great new friend. The epic tug-of-war matches being waged in our living room might rival most betting fights in Vegas. But there’s also snuggling that will melt your heart.

And there’s been no love lost for the original puppy loved in our house. Memphis gets just as much love and attention as before, and still has sleeping rights in Miss L’s room.

Life is certainly crazy with a puppy in the house, but what’s life if you don’t throw it for a loop every now and then?