Prepared For A Maiden Name

I went home to my parents house this weekend to hang out with my family, because Katie had come from Indy with the Liberator (who, by the by, finds me hilarious. I told you, the babies. They love me.)

While there, my mom pointed out something I had completely forgotten about: on the inside of one of the bedroom closets, I had left my mark. And I have that to share with you all now.



For those without the ability to read legible 2nd grade handwriting, here it is:

March 31, 1993
Emily

(I hope I
can show
my kids
this!?)

Emily J__
S______
and now
---> __________
Last name marryed!


First of all, yes. That is officially what ejs stands for. I considered blurring it and then realized that if you want to find me on the internet, it would take you about four seconds, whether or not you knew my full name. Feel free to steal my identity and use it as your own. It might get you unemployment checks (CHA-CHING!)

Now let's go on to the analysis portion of this photo.

A) Clearly there is a sticky mark beside my date and name. Which means that I found something that was sticky and thought it would be awesome if I hid it somewhere and then found it decades later, and it would be important enough to gather my offspring around. "Come on kids! This is where I used to live. Let me show you the place where I spread gak on the wall with my finger."

B) Yeah that's right. Who has two thumbs, is eight years old and knows how to properly punctuate her dates and use an interrobang? This girl.

C) So the sticky substance you placed there because you thought it would last forever. And then you used pencil. And also tried to erase a mistake you made in your own signature. Sure.

D) I actually had considered writing a post about my thoughts on Ms. versus Mrs. and last name changing and more feminism things before I came upon this. But luckily now I don't have to; you all know my opinion. In the future, I WILL be getting married, and I WILL be changing my last name and I WILL be having children. Multiple. There is no other alternative. My 8-year-old self already had it planned out.

E) I also appreciate that this sticky substance wasn't just important for me as a second grader. It was to be important to me as a grown, "marryed" adult. For when I rediscovered the sticky thing in the closet, I could thoughtfully update it so that any future owner of the house would have a full, complete record of just WHO this girl was who was leaving important sticky things around their house.

In fact, I updated it once myself:



The old one fell off two years later. Well that's good to know. And I'm so glad that whatever it was I was sticking to the wall for eternity was still available to use again. And that I was keeping a proper record.

Anyway, that's all I have to say about my weekend at home. Unless you want to look at 8 thousand pictures of Libby? Oh you do? Oh I have them right here....