Bay Area Discovery Museum and The Ocean

There's this fantastic children's museum just off the coast in Sausalito. It is one of the Bay's greatest kept secrets if you ask me. The location is breathtaking. The environment is perfectly suited and geared toward children under 8. And, the admission was under $11. I got the kids and myself in for half price, though, thanks to an online special. Grandpa Bob took the day off from work and joined us for the fun.

This is the view from the parking lot.

Tide pools that actually spurt out water every few minutes like on the beach.

This was the prehistoric area. Emily climbed right in the dinosaur nest and made herself at home.

Even though the entire place is specifically designed for the 8 and under crowd, they also have a dedicated area for toddlers.

 After spending most of the day at the museum (which is kind of a misleading name since it's more like an interactive discovery zone), we drove down past Seal Point to the beach. The girls were so excited, but also a little nervous. They kept asking if we were going to eaten by sharks. So I told them, "Grandpa Bob will protect us. He's spent a lot of time swimming in the ocean and he's never been eaten by a shark. Sharks won't bother Grandpa Bob."

Grandpa Bob defending the older girls from sharks. As you can see, Emily isn't worried in the least.

In fact, I had to stop her from running head first into the waves.

Is there anything better than the sand in your toes?

You can't tell here, but Addie was in hysterics the whole time. She hated the sand and was terrified of the water. I think I managed to capture the .2 seconds she was willing to stand on the ground.

Being there made me realize just how much I missed the ocean. I had this odd sensation to run out into the sea and catch a wave back to the shore like I did so often as a kid. It felt really good to be back.

I Swear

No, really. I do.

But, when I made covenants and decided to try and live the gospel, I jumped in feet first. I agreed to make permanent changes so that I could better myself and be a worthy representative of Christ.

I gave up the booze.

I walked away from drugs no problem.

Coffee? Meh. Piece of cake.

I even gave up sex. (Much to my husband's chagrin.)

But the cussing? Oh dudes. I can't stop. It's like a separate life force inside of me that wants to be heard. LOUDLY.

Any of you who've spent more than 27 seconds with me know this to be true. The words just tumble out before I can clamp my lips shut.

I cuss more in casual conversation than when I'm mad. If I get to the point of angry cussing, it's likely to come to blows. (You two stop laughing right now. You know who you are too.)

My favorite cuss word is ass. Asstastic! See, isn't it freakin' hilarious?!? I'm doubled over laughing right now.

Ass.

Unfortunately, just because it's funny doesn't mean it's appropriate or has a place in life.

I learned to cuss as a kid. It was the norm. Everyone cussed. Sometimes it was the "mild" stuff, sometimes it was the "taboo" cussing. Either way, it was accepted by everyone I knew to throw some language into every conversation.

But, I'm hoping for better for my kids, right? I'm hoping to spare them the generational tradition that I'm trying so desperately to escape. I'm lucky in that my kids haven't yet picked up the habit. They haven't even so much as parroted me in my sin. I know that won't last forever. And then, in 20 years, they too will be trying to overcome a personal weakness that can be traced back directly to me.

The For the Strength of Youth pamphlet says this about foul language:

"How you speak says much about who you are. Clean and intelligent language is evidence of a bright and wholesome mind. Profane, vulgar or crude language (or gestures), as well as jokes about immoral actions, are offensive to the Lord and others. Foul language harms you and degrades you."

And from the Big Guy himself:

Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man, but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man. (Matthew 15:11)

and

But I say unto you that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account there of in the day of judgement. (Matthew 12:36-37)

and lastly,

The words of the talebearer are as wounds, and they go down in the innermost parts of the belly. (Proverbs 26:22)

They do go down into the innermost parts of the belly. Hurtful words do go down into the core of a person and there they fester, seeding doubts and insecurities that remain with a person throughout life.

Not only do corrupt words weaken those they are targeted at, but they weaken the speaker. As a poison to the soul, those words, spilled so easily change the user. The heart becomes calloused and the spirit dulls in order to protect itself from the abuse of foul language. One cannot habitually choose to employ inappropriate language and simultaneously gain all of the blessings of the spirit. It is not physically or spiritually possible.

It's interesting to note (as a good friend of mine did so for me when she explained the dangers of cussing and why she raised her family to never utter such words), that every cuss word used refers either to a part of the human body or an act of the human body. And what being would have us further defile our sacred bodies? Satan; for he is so jealous at his own lack of a physical body that he would do anything for us to degrade ours. When we describe ourselves or others in those terms, we are playing right into the hands of the Adversary.

I'm up against years of habit and generations of language tradition. Acknowledging the weakness is the first step with any addictive behavior. Then comes the hard part: applying the change. As with changes of the eternal sort, the Lord has to be part of the process. Humble prayer combined with determination can break the cycle. Therein lies the means to truly grow; to truly effect your own life, the lives of others and even generations to come.

It's damn hard though.

Sacramento Train Museum

Grandma and Grandpa Riddle took us to the Train Museum and on a little tour of Old Town Sacramento. The weather was phenomenal and the kids loved being with their grandparents.

This was a cool place, but I wouldn't take really small kids to get your money's worth. I'd wait till they were a smidge older but still fascinated by trains. That being said, the kids did have a great time.

See the woman working on the railroad? She did it all the live long day. See the shiny sign?

Allen and I realized they had to drive each of the trains into the museum. There are tracks that have been covered throughout the entire ground floor.

The sleeper car actually moves like a real train would. They have these staged scenes throughout the museum for your viewing pleasure. This was just a leeettlle creepy, though.

The mail train. Hand sorting on a moving vehicle. I would totally barf in one of those bags after 10 minutes.

This train was huge! Allen is 6'1" and it dwarfed him. Not an easy task with all of his big muscles either.

Old town has a lot of character. We found this street dancer and watched for a bit.

He played it up for the kids and was slowly making his way toward the stroller with Emily in it.

Trying to get some love with a fist bump.

Not even thinking of it. No way, no how.

Daddy

This is how Lexi wanted to celebrate Dad's special day:

Allen said he never imagined he would be spending his Father's Days having tea parties. But as my dad once said, "It takes a strong man to raise daughters". And while these girls can throw him for a loop with their female ways, he's never too much of a man to miss out on the chance to make a memory. 

Happy Father's Day!

Hot Time

The temp has been in the 100's this week. Way too hot. We decided to cool it down a bit the good-old-I-don't-own-a-pool-way:

Enzo was so hyped up to have the whole family out of doors at once.

Davis: not so much.

Emily knows this is "her dog" and hugs him about six thousand times a day. He always stays perfectly still, even when she steps all over him.

Now here is a shocking photo. Davis laying still for a hug from the child. See his face though? He's just a squeeze away from bolting.

Now our Enzo is NOT a water dog. He, in fact, hates water. He hardly walks on the lawn when it's wet. But the kids were in the water. It took him a few minutes, but he couldn't let them be that far away for long. He ventured in after them and stayed in the water as long as they were playing.

Addie fulfilled her sisterly duty and escorted Emily on the slippery cement.