I can't vouch for anything else on the blog, but this post made me crack up.
Here's a good article showing why I won't vote for Rudy Giuliani.
One reason I love the internet, and especially the blogosphere, is the new things I keep coming across. I recently found a blog of an old friend who I haven't seen in over 10 years, but who was a great help and inspiration to me when I was in Bible School.
And now a request: does anyone have any good worship websites to recommend? It can be from any perspective: I've got everything from Vineyard to the Church Music Association on my favorites bookmark, but I'd like more.
Happy Feast of Ss. Peter and Paul!
--DJ
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Pop Virtues
There are a few "pop virtues" that are always safe to build children's stories around these days, and they're so ubiquitous that it's easy to accept them without thinking about them. Two such pop virtues showed up in the video that A&S were watching the other day.
The first virtue is, "I love you just the way you are!" In this case, a girl talking to her cat, the promise included, "There's not a hair I want to rearrange." The second is, "You can be ANYTHING you want to be!"
The first promise is empty at best, and destructive at worst.
The second is simply a lie.
It is good to say to someone "I love the way you like military sci-fi, the way you fold your towel after a shower, the way you find it difficult to remember names, the way you love hospitality but often don't say much when company comes over." It's good to say, "You don't have to meet these certain requirements before I love you more." That's the kind of human love that reflects divine love. But to say instead, "I love you exactly how you are and you don't have to change anything, ever," is a very different promise. That promise doesn't help us become better, fight our struggles, and grow. Darren and I love one another, but both know there are "hairs" that need to be "rearranged." We don't set out to improve each other, but we're always on hand to support, encourage, and very very occasionally give a push from behind. If someone pledged to love me exactly the way I am now, forever amen, I wouldn't consider that person much of a friend.
And the second one -- the Great American Ideal. You can be anything! Whatever you dream, you can do! Don't give up, don't change yourself just for others, but be what you want to be! In the movie, the character in question is a cat who barks and fetches sticks: he wants to be a dog. Near the end of the movie, he saves the day by using his doggie skills to sniff out and dig. The only problem with this inspiring message is that a cat is not a dog. A cat doesn't have a dog's sense of smell, or a dog's powerful paws for digging. No matter how hard he tries, he will always be a cat acting like a dog.
Likewise, we have to admit that there are some things we can't "be," whether the limitations are physical, mental, or emotional. I once saw a sitcom that dealt with a girl taking diet pills because a fellow cheerleader called her fat. Her mother discovered it and they settled down for the Wise Counsel scene. I waited for the mom to assure her daughter that she wasn't fat... Check... then go on to explain that she still had a large frame that wasn't suited to standing on the top of a pyramid... no check. Instead, the mother gave the usual spiel about not letting others dictate our self-image. The moral of the story, I guess, is that this girl could still stand at the top of the pyramid, even if she stood 5'7" and weighed 125 pounds, if she just believed in herself enough. Reality is easier to cope with if you ignore it.
I can let these "virtues" flash by onscreen occasionally (because otherwise the movie was pretty good). But I don't intend to raise my children on them. Instead, I want to tell them, We will always love you, no matter what; and we will rejoice to see you grow and change into whatever God wants you to be.
-- SJ
The first virtue is, "I love you just the way you are!" In this case, a girl talking to her cat, the promise included, "There's not a hair I want to rearrange." The second is, "You can be ANYTHING you want to be!"
The first promise is empty at best, and destructive at worst.
The second is simply a lie.
It is good to say to someone "I love the way you like military sci-fi, the way you fold your towel after a shower, the way you find it difficult to remember names, the way you love hospitality but often don't say much when company comes over." It's good to say, "You don't have to meet these certain requirements before I love you more." That's the kind of human love that reflects divine love. But to say instead, "I love you exactly how you are and you don't have to change anything, ever," is a very different promise. That promise doesn't help us become better, fight our struggles, and grow. Darren and I love one another, but both know there are "hairs" that need to be "rearranged." We don't set out to improve each other, but we're always on hand to support, encourage, and very very occasionally give a push from behind. If someone pledged to love me exactly the way I am now, forever amen, I wouldn't consider that person much of a friend.
And the second one -- the Great American Ideal. You can be anything! Whatever you dream, you can do! Don't give up, don't change yourself just for others, but be what you want to be! In the movie, the character in question is a cat who barks and fetches sticks: he wants to be a dog. Near the end of the movie, he saves the day by using his doggie skills to sniff out and dig. The only problem with this inspiring message is that a cat is not a dog. A cat doesn't have a dog's sense of smell, or a dog's powerful paws for digging. No matter how hard he tries, he will always be a cat acting like a dog.
Likewise, we have to admit that there are some things we can't "be," whether the limitations are physical, mental, or emotional. I once saw a sitcom that dealt with a girl taking diet pills because a fellow cheerleader called her fat. Her mother discovered it and they settled down for the Wise Counsel scene. I waited for the mom to assure her daughter that she wasn't fat... Check... then go on to explain that she still had a large frame that wasn't suited to standing on the top of a pyramid... no check. Instead, the mother gave the usual spiel about not letting others dictate our self-image. The moral of the story, I guess, is that this girl could still stand at the top of the pyramid, even if she stood 5'7" and weighed 125 pounds, if she just believed in herself enough. Reality is easier to cope with if you ignore it.
I can let these "virtues" flash by onscreen occasionally (because otherwise the movie was pretty good). But I don't intend to raise my children on them. Instead, I want to tell them, We will always love you, no matter what; and we will rejoice to see you grow and change into whatever God wants you to be.
-- SJ
Sunday, June 24, 2007
To the South and Back Again
Highlights, Comments, and Observations from a two-week visit to Mississippi ("The Tropical Vacation That Fits Your Budget!"):
* We stayed in a cottage owned by my former boss, the editor of the newspaper. The kids were thrilled with the accomodation when we arrived: "This is cool! That is neat! Look at this! THAT IS A ROACH!" Not that they'd ever seen a roach, but Stuart was still horrified to the very core of his being. He refused to sleep in the room where Daddy killed the roach, and he made us go in first every night to check for more. Fortunately, he didn't see any more roaches. I saw one, and Darren saw one, but we didn't tell Stuart that.
* My best-friend-since-sixth-grade, Deb, got special dispensation from her husband, and stayed a night with me and the kids while my husband was gone to a church conference. She spoke into the life of Daphne, her namesake, by coaching her on how to crawl. She also provided me with a very tempting response to the increasingly irritating question, "Three kids? Are you done?": "So, how much money do you and your husband make?"
* My sister Rose's husband is about halfway done constructing an elaborate playhouse for the cousins. This playhouse has real windows, a second-story loft, and a small air conditioner. Deb and I sat in the loft and bemoaned the fact that we didn't have this playhouse in our younger days. We spent our teenage years talking, talking, talking, and had to make do with front porches and trees.
* We arrived on a Sunday night. The following night, Lauren's baby arrived. So I got to spend two weeks with a new nephew, and watching my sister turn into a mother.
* Evidently the Randomizer's comments are legend among the family, so everyone drew her out to hear more of her famous remarks. Her greatest hits include:
On a trip to Wal-Mart, when Aunt Jessica told her she could pick out more than one toy to get: "Mama says we have to get just one. The Jones family is very poor."
After a disciplinary session: "You are the harshest woman I know!"
Uncle Matt, teasing: "Hey, you have butter on your roll. Did you steal my butter?"
Addie: "No! I hate stealing!"
Aunt Jessica: "That's right. You're an angel, aren't you?"
Addie (laughing): "No! I'm just a mortal!"
* During Darren's five-day trip to the conference, Stuart was surrounded by entirely too many females. Whenever an uncle appeared, Stuart wouldn't let him out of his sight. Uncle Carroll could make the bird whistle: he was neat. Uncle Matt M built the playhouse: that was cool. Uncle Neil had a pool, and Uncle Jamie talked about tractors: good stuff. But Stuart came home dazzled by Uncle Matt, my brother. Uncle Matt told jokes, did magic tricks, let him ride a tractor, and took him walking in the woods. Not just on the path, but in the WOODS. Cutting a path with a MACHETE. And then Uncle Matt pushed down a tree! "How did you do that?" Stuart asked, starry-eyed and not able to recognize a dead tree when he saw one. "I don't think my daddy could do that." Uncle Matt is pretty much a superhero.
* Darren had a jolly trip to KS for the conference. He got to Atlanta airport at 2:30pm. He didn't leave it until 12:45am. My mother calls Atlanta "the Flypaper of the South."
* Mom cooked enough food to feed all of us and half the county in the event of a famine, admired my children, and only once or twice daily remarked on how far away I live.
* I was sorting pictures for her, and she told me to keep any pictures I wanted. This generous offer, I discovered, did not extend to any of the rare snapshots of my dad, who died when I was three. Not that I can blame her, but now I know where they are and next time I'm getting copies.
* It was hard to leave. I spent two weeks moving among my family again, watching my sister's girls for her, eating at the family restaurant, making phone calls to say, "Are you going into town this morning? Because I need some yogurt for Daph." Family, kids, babies, playing in the hose, cooking, ordinary life: I reveled in it while I had it. That's where my roots are, and they're still deep. It's been a mournful transition back to my generic suburban life a thousand miles away.
But Stuart woke up this morning, smiled, and said, "It's good to be home again." And that reminded me that they are putting down roots here, and there's nothing generic about home.
-- SJ
* We stayed in a cottage owned by my former boss, the editor of the newspaper. The kids were thrilled with the accomodation when we arrived: "This is cool! That is neat! Look at this! THAT IS A ROACH!" Not that they'd ever seen a roach, but Stuart was still horrified to the very core of his being. He refused to sleep in the room where Daddy killed the roach, and he made us go in first every night to check for more. Fortunately, he didn't see any more roaches. I saw one, and Darren saw one, but we didn't tell Stuart that.
* My best-friend-since-sixth-grade, Deb, got special dispensation from her husband, and stayed a night with me and the kids while my husband was gone to a church conference. She spoke into the life of Daphne, her namesake, by coaching her on how to crawl. She also provided me with a very tempting response to the increasingly irritating question, "Three kids? Are you done?": "So, how much money do you and your husband make?"
* My sister Rose's husband is about halfway done constructing an elaborate playhouse for the cousins. This playhouse has real windows, a second-story loft, and a small air conditioner. Deb and I sat in the loft and bemoaned the fact that we didn't have this playhouse in our younger days. We spent our teenage years talking, talking, talking, and had to make do with front porches and trees.
* We arrived on a Sunday night. The following night, Lauren's baby arrived. So I got to spend two weeks with a new nephew, and watching my sister turn into a mother.
* Evidently the Randomizer's comments are legend among the family, so everyone drew her out to hear more of her famous remarks. Her greatest hits include:
On a trip to Wal-Mart, when Aunt Jessica told her she could pick out more than one toy to get: "Mama says we have to get just one. The Jones family is very poor."
After a disciplinary session: "You are the harshest woman I know!"
Uncle Matt, teasing: "Hey, you have butter on your roll. Did you steal my butter?"
Addie: "No! I hate stealing!"
Aunt Jessica: "That's right. You're an angel, aren't you?"
Addie (laughing): "No! I'm just a mortal!"
* During Darren's five-day trip to the conference, Stuart was surrounded by entirely too many females. Whenever an uncle appeared, Stuart wouldn't let him out of his sight. Uncle Carroll could make the bird whistle: he was neat. Uncle Matt M built the playhouse: that was cool. Uncle Neil had a pool, and Uncle Jamie talked about tractors: good stuff. But Stuart came home dazzled by Uncle Matt, my brother. Uncle Matt told jokes, did magic tricks, let him ride a tractor, and took him walking in the woods. Not just on the path, but in the WOODS. Cutting a path with a MACHETE. And then Uncle Matt pushed down a tree! "How did you do that?" Stuart asked, starry-eyed and not able to recognize a dead tree when he saw one. "I don't think my daddy could do that." Uncle Matt is pretty much a superhero.
* Darren had a jolly trip to KS for the conference. He got to Atlanta airport at 2:30pm. He didn't leave it until 12:45am. My mother calls Atlanta "the Flypaper of the South."
* Mom cooked enough food to feed all of us and half the county in the event of a famine, admired my children, and only once or twice daily remarked on how far away I live.
* I was sorting pictures for her, and she told me to keep any pictures I wanted. This generous offer, I discovered, did not extend to any of the rare snapshots of my dad, who died when I was three. Not that I can blame her, but now I know where they are and next time I'm getting copies.
* It was hard to leave. I spent two weeks moving among my family again, watching my sister's girls for her, eating at the family restaurant, making phone calls to say, "Are you going into town this morning? Because I need some yogurt for Daph." Family, kids, babies, playing in the hose, cooking, ordinary life: I reveled in it while I had it. That's where my roots are, and they're still deep. It's been a mournful transition back to my generic suburban life a thousand miles away.
But Stuart woke up this morning, smiled, and said, "It's good to be home again." And that reminded me that they are putting down roots here, and there's nothing generic about home.
-- SJ
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Congratulations!
My sister Lauren and her husband Carroll have welcomed Michael Daniel to the world! Michael was born Monday evening. Hitherto, Lauren has been more interested in animals than people, but evidently regards Michael as even cuter than a puppy.
(They chose Michael for the same reason we chose it for Stuart's middle name: the dad liked it. They chose Daniel in honor of my late father.)
I actually haven't announced every niece/nephew arrival. The past two or three years have produced quite a crop and I got left in the dust. So here I'll post a general celebration of the Roberts-McAdory clan, of which Michael is a whopping #14:
Courtney (19)
Katie (13)
Garrett (11)
Maegan (9)
Emma (7)
Addie (5)
Stuart (4)
Camie (3)
Claire (3)
Felicity (18 mos)
Daphne (9 mos)
Preston (7 mos)
Micah (3 mos)
Michael (2 days!)
One day I might even have pictures of all these beautiful, bright kids, but that's not something you'll want to gamble on.
-- SJ
(They chose Michael for the same reason we chose it for Stuart's middle name: the dad liked it. They chose Daniel in honor of my late father.)
I actually haven't announced every niece/nephew arrival. The past two or three years have produced quite a crop and I got left in the dust. So here I'll post a general celebration of the Roberts-McAdory clan, of which Michael is a whopping #14:
Courtney (19)
Katie (13)
Garrett (11)
Maegan (9)
Emma (7)
Addie (5)
Stuart (4)
Camie (3)
Claire (3)
Felicity (18 mos)
Daphne (9 mos)
Preston (7 mos)
Micah (3 mos)
Michael (2 days!)
One day I might even have pictures of all these beautiful, bright kids, but that's not something you'll want to gamble on.
-- SJ
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Mundania 11
* Addie has some sort of rash on her chest; her skin probably is irritated from doing gymnastics in the grass. It's obviously not bothering her too much, but she refers to it as "my painful disease" and talks solemnly about keeping her distance from everyone else.
* Stuart has a new friend. Just to recap, his existing friends include Organize the mountain giant; Kamos the baby minotaur (who drives a toy car beside our van when we go to town); and Pretzel, Apple, and Offspring, all baby Prometheans. The other day, after playing a computer game with Darren (surprise), Stuart introduced his new friend: the scarab beetle whom he christened Bacon Bit.
* Last week, Stuart lost his sandals. I was highly irritated, seeing as we bought these sandals to replace the shoes he lost a few months ago. He wore his snow boots whenever we went to town (A&S never wear shoes in and around the neighborhood). Yesterday I finally tackled the laundry, and two loads in I found the sandals.
I held them up for Stuart to see. He was delighted that I'd found them. "Where were they?" he asked.
"The laundry basket," I told him, thinking it would jog his memory.
"Ha, ha!" he replied. "Why did I put them in there?"
* I recently read an article that featured someone named Tawni. For the record, "Tawni" is not a name that radiates virtue and responsibility, and I would advise against it.
* Daphne has won the battle against jarred baby food: we never even offer it anymore. She's also won the title "The Finicker" because she has an excessively refined palate. She'll eat yogurt, but otherwise she basically eats potato. Fortunately she likes carrot-flavored potato and broccoli-flavored potato, so we get some variety into her.
* Whenever anyone asks Addie what her favorite book is, she answers, "God's Word the Bible!" She really does spend a lot of time reading Bible storybooks, but I don't know where she picked up on the idea that that's supposed to be her favorite book. Maybe it really is her favorite book; Addie likes to sound melodramatic but she's always sincere. Still, it sounds as though I drill her at home: "When anyone asks what your favorite book is, you say 'the Bible.' And if anyone asks who your best friend is, you say 'Jesus.' And if anyone asks you what you're most grateful for, you say, 'My loving mother who sacrifices so much for my well-being.'"
* Stuart remarked yesterday that "Daphne is getting teeth, I'm keeping teeth, and Addie is losing teeth!"
* I've been walking or riding my bike in the evenings, eating salad for lunch (BIG salads, with beans and nuts and Italian dressing because there's only so far I'll go to be healthy), and doing crunches at night. I think I've lost 10-ish pounds, but my body evidently expects a famine to hit soon, and holds tenaciously to its storehouse around my midsection.
-- SJ
* Stuart has a new friend. Just to recap, his existing friends include Organize the mountain giant; Kamos the baby minotaur (who drives a toy car beside our van when we go to town); and Pretzel, Apple, and Offspring, all baby Prometheans. The other day, after playing a computer game with Darren (surprise), Stuart introduced his new friend: the scarab beetle whom he christened Bacon Bit.
* Last week, Stuart lost his sandals. I was highly irritated, seeing as we bought these sandals to replace the shoes he lost a few months ago. He wore his snow boots whenever we went to town (A&S never wear shoes in and around the neighborhood). Yesterday I finally tackled the laundry, and two loads in I found the sandals.
I held them up for Stuart to see. He was delighted that I'd found them. "Where were they?" he asked.
"The laundry basket," I told him, thinking it would jog his memory.
"Ha, ha!" he replied. "Why did I put them in there?"
* I recently read an article that featured someone named Tawni. For the record, "Tawni" is not a name that radiates virtue and responsibility, and I would advise against it.
* Daphne has won the battle against jarred baby food: we never even offer it anymore. She's also won the title "The Finicker" because she has an excessively refined palate. She'll eat yogurt, but otherwise she basically eats potato. Fortunately she likes carrot-flavored potato and broccoli-flavored potato, so we get some variety into her.
* Whenever anyone asks Addie what her favorite book is, she answers, "God's Word the Bible!" She really does spend a lot of time reading Bible storybooks, but I don't know where she picked up on the idea that that's supposed to be her favorite book. Maybe it really is her favorite book; Addie likes to sound melodramatic but she's always sincere. Still, it sounds as though I drill her at home: "When anyone asks what your favorite book is, you say 'the Bible.' And if anyone asks who your best friend is, you say 'Jesus.' And if anyone asks you what you're most grateful for, you say, 'My loving mother who sacrifices so much for my well-being.'"
* Stuart remarked yesterday that "Daphne is getting teeth, I'm keeping teeth, and Addie is losing teeth!"
* I've been walking or riding my bike in the evenings, eating salad for lunch (BIG salads, with beans and nuts and Italian dressing because there's only so far I'll go to be healthy), and doing crunches at night. I think I've lost 10-ish pounds, but my body evidently expects a famine to hit soon, and holds tenaciously to its storehouse around my midsection.
-- SJ
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Cool Things to Spend Money On
I’ve been meaning to do a post like this for a while, but I am a procrastinator.
A couple CDs that I have really liked recently are well worth spending money on. “In Christ Alone” by Keith and Kristyn Getty is a marvelous collection of worship songs that actually have singable tunes and theologically sound lyrics (the two don’t always go together.)
“Hymns” by Matt Papa is just as good, but a bit rockier. He puts new tunes or spins on many excellent hymns, such as “Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah” and “Glorious Is Thy Name.” I especially liked what he did to spice up “At Calvary,” which has great words but is too gospelly in my opinion.
For those who like more traditional music, I purchased a copy of the Adoremus Hymnal a couple months ago. It’s a fairly traditional Roman Catholic Hymnal, so it includes hymns in both Latin and English. Lots of great Christmas music, and some good older hymns. However, the really great thing about it is that you can also get a 4-CD set that has a small choir singing the first verse and chorus of every song in the book. Very handy for learning songs I don’t know, and it only cost $15. Too bad the Celebration Hymnal, which I think is about the best hymnal out there, doesn’t have something similar.
Thanks to my parents and birthdays, I have two T-shirts from a cool website called Lionheart Apparel. I have the Chi-Rho and the Alpha-Omega. They are very comfortable, good quality shirts. I’m always a big fan of wearing Christian T-shirts, and these ones are fun. Apparently the site was started by one of the contestants on “The Apprentice.” Ten percent of the company’s money is donated to pro-life charities.
And speaking of charities, I’ll put in a plug for two of my favorites: Christian Freedom International and Remember, both of which work with persecuted Christians. I used to work for CFI, and one of my friends runs Remember. Both are worthy causes.
--DJ
A couple CDs that I have really liked recently are well worth spending money on. “In Christ Alone” by Keith and Kristyn Getty is a marvelous collection of worship songs that actually have singable tunes and theologically sound lyrics (the two don’t always go together.)
“Hymns” by Matt Papa is just as good, but a bit rockier. He puts new tunes or spins on many excellent hymns, such as “Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah” and “Glorious Is Thy Name.” I especially liked what he did to spice up “At Calvary,” which has great words but is too gospelly in my opinion.
For those who like more traditional music, I purchased a copy of the Adoremus Hymnal a couple months ago. It’s a fairly traditional Roman Catholic Hymnal, so it includes hymns in both Latin and English. Lots of great Christmas music, and some good older hymns. However, the really great thing about it is that you can also get a 4-CD set that has a small choir singing the first verse and chorus of every song in the book. Very handy for learning songs I don’t know, and it only cost $15. Too bad the Celebration Hymnal, which I think is about the best hymnal out there, doesn’t have something similar.
Thanks to my parents and birthdays, I have two T-shirts from a cool website called Lionheart Apparel. I have the Chi-Rho and the Alpha-Omega. They are very comfortable, good quality shirts. I’m always a big fan of wearing Christian T-shirts, and these ones are fun. Apparently the site was started by one of the contestants on “The Apprentice.” Ten percent of the company’s money is donated to pro-life charities.
And speaking of charities, I’ll put in a plug for two of my favorites: Christian Freedom International and Remember, both of which work with persecuted Christians. I used to work for CFI, and one of my friends runs Remember. Both are worthy causes.
--DJ
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
I WROTE THIS
(I typed this as a comment last night, but Blogger apparently disagreed with my initial intention not to post this "funny." It lost my comment. So here it is again, but this time with the article following.)
Thanks for the sympathy and, wow, for the compliment, Catherine. Pretty much if you want me to love you for life, just compliment my writing. I recently posted that if I never became a published author, I could live with the regret, but that was a tiny part bluster.
Below the asterisks is the bit I wrote for the newsletter. If you don't get it, that probably means you're not immersed in the world of Very Small Children.
Edit: linked two years later from here.
***
As mothers of young children, we're bombarded by advice: from playgroup moms, magazines, doctors, mothers-in-law, or even complete strangers at the mall. Why isn't he potty-trained yet? You need to take away that pacifier. A child never should go to bed with a sippy cup. Isn't she a little too old for a "lovey"?
One wise mother once dismissed my anxieties with, "Oh, she won't walk up the aisle in a diaper." But when you're in the middle of it all, you find yourself wondering...
Wedding Announcement
Miss Madison Alise Johnson was united in marriage to Mr. Hunter Travis Johnson in a double-ring ceremony on September 30, at All Happiness and Light Community Church.
The bride wore a hand-beaded gown of ivory lace. During the ceremony, she sucked on a matching beaded pacifier sprigged with rosebuds to match her bouquet.
The groom wore a formal black tuxedo and, underneath, Spider-man pull-ups in case he couldn't make it through the ceremony.
At the reception following the ceremony, the bride and groom exchanged drinks from crystal sippy-cups, as their parents' suggestion that they use big-girl and big-boy cups elicited only tears.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson-Johnson honeymooned in the Bahamas, the bride accompanied by her cherished Pinky-Pie Bear and the groom with his favorite blue "Blankie."
Also attending them at the wedding were the parents of the bride and groom. Both the mother of the bride and the mother of the groom wore twenty-year-old expressions of frustration.
-- SJ
Thanks for the sympathy and, wow, for the compliment, Catherine. Pretty much if you want me to love you for life, just compliment my writing. I recently posted that if I never became a published author, I could live with the regret, but that was a tiny part bluster.
Below the asterisks is the bit I wrote for the newsletter. If you don't get it, that probably means you're not immersed in the world of Very Small Children.
Edit: linked two years later from here.
***
As mothers of young children, we're bombarded by advice: from playgroup moms, magazines, doctors, mothers-in-law, or even complete strangers at the mall. Why isn't he potty-trained yet? You need to take away that pacifier. A child never should go to bed with a sippy cup. Isn't she a little too old for a "lovey"?
One wise mother once dismissed my anxieties with, "Oh, she won't walk up the aisle in a diaper." But when you're in the middle of it all, you find yourself wondering...
Wedding Announcement
Miss Madison Alise Johnson was united in marriage to Mr. Hunter Travis Johnson in a double-ring ceremony on September 30, at All Happiness and Light Community Church.
The bride wore a hand-beaded gown of ivory lace. During the ceremony, she sucked on a matching beaded pacifier sprigged with rosebuds to match her bouquet.
The groom wore a formal black tuxedo and, underneath, Spider-man pull-ups in case he couldn't make it through the ceremony.
At the reception following the ceremony, the bride and groom exchanged drinks from crystal sippy-cups, as their parents' suggestion that they use big-girl and big-boy cups elicited only tears.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson-Johnson honeymooned in the Bahamas, the bride accompanied by her cherished Pinky-Pie Bear and the groom with his favorite blue "Blankie."
Also attending them at the wedding were the parents of the bride and groom. Both the mother of the bride and the mother of the groom wore twenty-year-old expressions of frustration.
-- SJ
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Anonymousity
Queen of Carrots posted her poem unsigned, admitting that it seemed immodest to stick I WROTE THIS on the end of it. I've always been torn by my desire to share my genius with others, but reluctant to tell them I did it and solicit obligatory compliments.
But recently I overcame my diffidence. I emailed a funny bit to the friend who does the newsletter for the MOMS Club. I said, "I wrote this and thought you could use it in the newsletter." No apologies, no way of escape ("If you have enough room..."), just Here It Is, Print It.
She wrote back saying she thought it was hilarious. The next month, the newsletter came out, and I quickly went through it to see if she'd fit in the article. Yes, there it was, in all its funniness.
Except.
She forgot to put my name on it. So nobody knew I wrote it, and I couldn't very well post on the e-group, "You know that funny thing in the newsletter? I WROTE THAT. Compliments accepted at all hours." Irony rocks.
-- SJ
But recently I overcame my diffidence. I emailed a funny bit to the friend who does the newsletter for the MOMS Club. I said, "I wrote this and thought you could use it in the newsletter." No apologies, no way of escape ("If you have enough room..."), just Here It Is, Print It.
She wrote back saying she thought it was hilarious. The next month, the newsletter came out, and I quickly went through it to see if she'd fit in the article. Yes, there it was, in all its funniness.
Except.
She forgot to put my name on it. So nobody knew I wrote it, and I couldn't very well post on the e-group, "You know that funny thing in the newsletter? I WROTE THAT. Compliments accepted at all hours." Irony rocks.
-- SJ
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