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- The Saint Louis Zoo - OK, so I know my friend Nancy is not particularly happy with the zoo because of its decimated gorilla situation (Nancy is a gorilla fanatic - the Midwestern version of Dian Fossey. I fully expect to get a message from her one day saying she's off to Rwanda
and may never return. When that happens, Nancy, may I have your big screen TV? Mwah - love you!). But, other than the gorillas, the STL Zoo is a great, educational, mostly free activity for families to enjoy (I say mostly free because while it's free admission, the parking fees, train and carousel rides and special attraction fees can add up). My personal favorite is Penguin & Puffin Coast - you can pretty much get nose-to-nose with the cute little buggers, and I swear they pose for photos. Seriously. Pull out your camera and see what happens. - Our friends Dan & Sue Jenkins, who along with their too-cute kids Emma, Isaiah and Caleb, are preparing to move to Costa Rica to serve as missionaries for ReachGlobal. We had a wonderful sloppy burger cookout with the Jenkins family recently and heard the story of their journey-before-their-journey that led them to becoming missionaries and leading ReachGlobal's microenterprise efforts in Costa Rica. They still need help raising all of their salary and living expenses before they go - they're about 40 percent away from their goal, so please check out their blog to learn more, and please pray about giving to help their efforts.
- So You Think You Can Dance - need I say more?
- This book. Get it. Read it. Then pass it on. Everyone needs to read this book, then decide what they can personally do to get us back on track. We're all in this together, people. Let's make it happen!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A Midsummer's Happy List
We've hit the halfway point to the summer, and I don't know about you, but we're having some serious fun in our little kingdom. Here's what's making us happy in the 'Lou this week - what's making your summer rock?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Attack of the Three-Year-Old Diva
Ah, three-year-olds. I love 'em. One moment life is great, they're laughing and having fun. The next? A shrieking, wailing, kicking alien is writhing on the floor, incensed because you dared - dared - to put their juice in the monkey cup instead of the birdie cup.
Good times, people. Good times.
I'd love to say that Princess G never appears to have morphed into Reagan from "The Exorcist." She looks so angelic - wavy blond hair, big blue eyes, three dimples, a happy-go-lucky personality, well-developed comic timing and a wickedly funny sense of humor. (Note that I did not choose the word "wickedly" by chance.) Everyone tells us how adorable and sweet she is - and she is.
Sometimes. Usually the first 27 seconds after she wakes up. Then it gets ugly.
Case in point: a typical work/school morning. We're getting dressed, brushing teeth, doing hair, etc., and out of the blue, Princess G decides she doesn't want to wear shorts to school. She wanted to wear a skirt.
No, I don't think you understand. SHE WANTED TO WEAR A SKIRT. WHAT PART OF THAT IS CONFUSING, YOU DIMWITTED EXCUSE FOR AN ADULT?!!
Yeah, I didn't quite get the intensity of her desire on first blush. However, about 30 minutes into her 45-minute crying, screaming, Tasmanian devil rant around the house, I started to catch on. (I pride myself on my intuitiveness as a mother.)
There was naked ranting at one point (on her part). There was hiding in the laundry room banging heads against the wall at another point (on my part). There was the thinking stair. There was the taking away of the next gymnastics lesson. There was the banishment of the favorite toy to the top of the refrigerator. There was the threat of taking her to school in her pajamas. There was even the threat of taking her to school naked. (It was late. She had stripped. I was desperate. Like you wouldn't think about it, too.)
Thankfully, there was no yelling (on my part - at least until I was in the car alone later). And, there was no giving in. Finally, there was acquiescence. Shorts were on. Noses were blown. Tears were wiped (those were mine). And we finally made it to school. Completely clothed - both of us. And I finally made it to work. Where I twitched in a corner for the next hour.
There's five months to go until we hit four. I think strong pharmaceuticals may be in order. Or at least one naked trip somewhere. (On my part. I can't guarantee rational thinking if I have to hear that shriek again.)
Good times, people. Good times.
I'd love to say that Princess G never appears to have morphed into Reagan from "The Exorcist." She looks so angelic - wavy blond hair, big blue eyes, three dimples, a happy-go-lucky personality, well-developed comic timing and a wickedly funny sense of humor. (Note that I did not choose the word "wickedly" by chance.) Everyone tells us how adorable and sweet she is - and she is.
Sometimes. Usually the first 27 seconds after she wakes up. Then it gets ugly.
Case in point: a typical work/school morning. We're getting dressed, brushing teeth, doing hair, etc., and out of the blue, Princess G decides she doesn't want to wear shorts to school. She wanted to wear a skirt.
No, I don't think you understand. SHE WANTED TO WEAR A SKIRT. WHAT PART OF THAT IS CONFUSING, YOU DIMWITTED EXCUSE FOR AN ADULT?!!
Yeah, I didn't quite get the intensity of her desire on first blush. However, about 30 minutes into her 45-minute crying, screaming, Tasmanian devil rant around the house, I started to catch on. (I pride myself on my intuitiveness as a mother.)
There was naked ranting at one point (on her part). There was hiding in the laundry room banging heads against the wall at another point (on my part). There was the thinking stair. There was the taking away of the next gymnastics lesson. There was the banishment of the favorite toy to the top of the refrigerator. There was the threat of taking her to school in her pajamas. There was even the threat of taking her to school naked. (It was late. She had stripped. I was desperate. Like you wouldn't think about it, too.)
Thankfully, there was no yelling (on my part - at least until I was in the car alone later). And, there was no giving in. Finally, there was acquiescence. Shorts were on. Noses were blown. Tears were wiped (those were mine). And we finally made it to school. Completely clothed - both of us. And I finally made it to work. Where I twitched in a corner for the next hour.
There's five months to go until we hit four. I think strong pharmaceuticals may be in order. Or at least one naked trip somewhere. (On my part. I can't guarantee rational thinking if I have to hear that shriek again.)
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wow. Just...Wow.
Thank you.
I am overwhelmed and humbled by the kind words that you've posted over the past couple of days, as well as the emails, IMs and Tweets you've sent. Thank you for your kindness, your compassion, your indignation on my behalf and your support. For those of you I know personally, I'm looking forward to giving out big hugs the next time I see you. For those I only know through the blogosphere, I hope I get the chance to meet you in "real life" and thank you face to face.
The author Elbert Hubbard wrote, "To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing." I used to be terrified of criticism - it would literally make me sick to my stomach. I couldn't handle anyone being upset with me, so I was a limp noodle - I didn't stand for anything and I didn't voice my opinions on anything for fear of upsetting someone, because I thought if someone disagreed with me, that meant I would be instantly disliked. I wanted desperately to be liked, so I was - for lack of a better word - a cowardly weenie.
I'm getting over that (maybe you've noticed - heh). I decided that I was tired of "being nothing" in my impossible effort to make everyone happy, so I started staking my claim in the world, so to speak. I'm losing my fear of having an opinion, slowly but surely. This blog is one way of doing that.
So to all of you who read, consider and respectfully comment, you have my sincere thanks and my request to please continue doing so as often as possible. For those who choose to go beyond that into personal, disrespectful and deliberately hurtful comments, you'll no longer be published here - for your own sake.
You see, your comments don't hurt me. I know who I am, I know where I stand, I know where I'm going, and - while I am far from perfect - I like myself. No, the only one your comments hurt are you, because of what they reveal about you. And that I think, if you really thought about it, you wouldn't want anyone to know.
I am overwhelmed and humbled by the kind words that you've posted over the past couple of days, as well as the emails, IMs and Tweets you've sent. Thank you for your kindness, your compassion, your indignation on my behalf and your support. For those of you I know personally, I'm looking forward to giving out big hugs the next time I see you. For those I only know through the blogosphere, I hope I get the chance to meet you in "real life" and thank you face to face.
The author Elbert Hubbard wrote, "To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing." I used to be terrified of criticism - it would literally make me sick to my stomach. I couldn't handle anyone being upset with me, so I was a limp noodle - I didn't stand for anything and I didn't voice my opinions on anything for fear of upsetting someone, because I thought if someone disagreed with me, that meant I would be instantly disliked. I wanted desperately to be liked, so I was - for lack of a better word - a cowardly weenie.
I'm getting over that (maybe you've noticed - heh). I decided that I was tired of "being nothing" in my impossible effort to make everyone happy, so I started staking my claim in the world, so to speak. I'm losing my fear of having an opinion, slowly but surely. This blog is one way of doing that.
So to all of you who read, consider and respectfully comment, you have my sincere thanks and my request to please continue doing so as often as possible. For those who choose to go beyond that into personal, disrespectful and deliberately hurtful comments, you'll no longer be published here - for your own sake.
You see, your comments don't hurt me. I know who I am, I know where I stand, I know where I'm going, and - while I am far from perfect - I like myself. No, the only one your comments hurt are you, because of what they reveal about you. And that I think, if you really thought about it, you wouldn't want anyone to know.
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