My Sugar Button and some hair adventures

I have recently been trying to make my little girl look like a little girl,
not Cousin It or some sort of strawberry-blond sheepdog.

This has not been too easy, since she has a tendency to be wigglier than Jell-O when I attempt to fix her hair. Most of my efforts happen on Sunday morning because my pride refuses to allow my child to show up for Nursery looking like a stray.

This, in my opinion, is one of the cutest hair-dos I have done on her. I cut the ribbons specifically to put in her hair. It turned out pretty well, don't you think? (It even lasted through most of church.)


She recently has started to understand that she needs to leave her hair alone if it is to stay "pretties" and so I have been trying barrettes. Yesterday, she went to church with purple barrettes, a purple dress and purple socks (my ode to 8-year-old Dara aka The Grape).

There are times when my efforts leave a little something to be desired. Sigh. I just keep hoping for the day that I can get all her hair up in one ponytail, allowing me to stop worrying about it once and for all.


This morning's hair and outfit just make me smile. It's not perfect, but the slight messiness lends to the charm of it for me. We're hoping for the promised 70 degree weather today. Hence the sun-shirt and skort combo.


A sweet pair of sandles would make this outfit PERFECT.

Stephenie Meyer vs. Stephen King

I recently read an article featuring Stephen King and his opinion about Stephenie Meyer and her Twilight series. Upon being asked what he thinks about the recent success of both Stephenie Meyer and J.K. Rowling, he is quoted as saying, "The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn." Unfortunately, the article did not detail any explanation he may have had for these words, so I can't say whether I would agree with him.

I am more than ready to admit that Stephenie Meyer's writing isn't exactly Pulitzer material. However, I would hesitate to say that she can't write at all. In my humble opinion, she captures teen insecurities and awkwardness quite well and her metaphorical language evokes wonderful imagery. Her characters are reasonably realistic, their personal flaws adding dimension to the overall story.

When I first started reading the Twilight series (back before it was an outrageous teen best seller), I remember being inspired by her ability to take a phenomenally ancient legend and reinvent it in surprising and sometimes beautiful ways. I had been feeling rather hopeless in my efforts to do the same with another ancient legendary creature and felt renewed upon reading her books.

Mr. King goes on to say that Stephenie Meyer's writing was attractive to fans (especially young girls) because she was able to connect love and sex in a safe way. Whether he meant that as a compliment or another dismissive comment on her talent, I'm not sure. I, myself, am glad for her sensitivity with such an intimate subject. The fact Edward insists that he and Bella get married before involving themselves in such a sacred act only endears me to the stories all the more. Mr. King in his own writing, however, has no shame in detailing explicit and, in some cases, disgusting episodes of private behavior.

Mrs. Meyer treats the relationships of the characters in her stories with the respect that "real" people would deserve.

While both Mr. King and Mrs. Meyer are now well-recognized authors in their own rights, I have actually read more from the latter than the former. The fact that she, so far, has only written five books says something for my respect and enjoyment of her abilities.

The Angel I didn't know I knew

I met an Angel today. Well, I already knew him... I just didn't know he was an Angel, which is usually the way it goes.

I had been suffering with this obnoxious heart-racing-because-my-body-is-retarded-when-I'm-pregnant issue ALL DAY. This time was worse because if I happened to be sitting up while it happened, I would get dizzy or light-headed. Laying down calmed it temporarily but the moment I returned to a sitting position it came back. Another side-effect of this problem was that it left me weak and shaky. We couldn't seem to figure out anything that would stop it or at least make it more manageable.

By about 2:30 I was at my wit's end and was contemplating going to the hospital to make sure there wasn't anything really wrong. I was finally hit by inspiration and asked Ben for a blessing. He started calling friends from the ward to find someone who could come and assist. He was able to contact Glen who just needed a ride to our house, so Ben ran out to pick him up.

Of course, the blessing itself was wonderful and made me feel much better. Glen asked what had been ailing me and upon explanation, he felt along my spine explaining something about the "T3" controlling the heart. Glen is a chiropractor and, with my permission, performed a mini-adjustment in my family room.

What he did seemed akin to the practices of a witch-doctor; unexplainable and somewhat magical. I have always been skeptical of chiropractic treatment and have placed it in the same category as acupuncture, massage therapy and other non-medical treatments. I suppose I will have to admit that I was wrong. Within a half-hour, I was sitting up fairly comfortably and felt more alert than I had all day.

I'm not sure how much of my current state of comfort is as a result of the blessing or Glen's skill. Ben threw out the possibility that part of the blessing was in bringing Glen to our house. Whatever the reason, I feel much better this evening and am grateful for it.

Angels are everywhere and sometimes I'm smart enough to recognize them when they show up.

The Husband Store

I got this email from a friend today... I enjoyed it so much I thought I'd share it with you all.

The Husband Store

A store that sells new husbands has opened in New York City , where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates:

You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the value of the products increase as the shopper ascends the flights. The shopper may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:

Floor 1 - These men Have Jobs.

She is intrigued, but continues to the second floor, where the sign reads:

Floor 2 - These men Have Jobs and Love Kids.

' That ' s nice, ' she thinks, ' but I want more. '

So she continues upward. The third floor sign reads:

Floor 3 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, and are Extremely Good Looking.

' Wow, ' she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.

She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 4 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids,
are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help With Housework.

' Oh, mercy me! ' she exclaims, ' I can hardly stand it! '

Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 5 - These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Gorgeous,
Help with Housework, and Have a Strong Romantic Streak.

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor, where the sign reads:

Floor 6 - You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor.
There are no men on this floor.
This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please.
Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.


PLEASE NOTE:
To avoid gender bias charges, the store ' s owner opened a New Wives
store just across the street.

The first floor has wives that love sex.

The second floor has wives that love sex and have money and like beer.

The third, fourth, fifth and sixth floors have never been visited.

Pregnancy Updates

The last week and a half has been a little difficult for me.
Sunday, the 25th, while having breakfast I realized that I was having difficulty breathing. I had been unconsciously trying to sit up straighter or stretch my back to relieve it. None of that worked and that's when I think I noticed the problem in the first place. This made me anxious because I couldn't think of any reason why it should be happening.
The breathing problem continued through the morning in Sacrament Meeting and this upset me (not helping the problem at all). I was just sitting there, doing nothing! Ben and I remembered this happening while I was pregnant with Audrey and so he started checking my pulse. Sitting there, not exerting myself at all, my pulse was up at about 100bpm! That revelation did nothing for my attempts to calm myself down either. We ended up leaving church early (which I felt guilty about) and I laid down as soon as I got home.
The shortness of breath/racing heart hasn't gone away in the last week and a half. In fact, a couple of days that we were checking my pulse, I was topping up at 120bpm. We called my doctors office and they said what I was experiencing was fairly normal and not to worry about it unless I wasn't able to go about my normal routine.

I was just starting to get the hang of that when I started having mild contractions on Monday. They weren't painful, just very uncomfortable. They were coming at about 15 minutes apart and ranged from barely noticeable to "I can't MOVE!!" Again, they seemed to be triggered by nothing. By dinner, they hadn't gone away and we called a good friend who was a nurse way back when. She suggested drinking an obscene amount of water and resting. She said if they didn't start going away after that, to call my doctors office. Eighty to ninety ounces of water and 2 hours later, they hadn't quit, so we called the doctors office. When the on call doctor called back, they were starting to fade. He told us not to worry unless they started coming at about 10 minutes apart... oh, wonderful.

So, I've been keeping up on the water and trying to rest (much to the consternation of my inner cleaning lady). I didn't have any contractions that I was aware of yesterday. Apparently, my little issues aren't uncommon enough to warrant notice from anyone but the people it directly effects.

We'll keep you all updated on my progress. I'm sure everything will be fine, but I'm not having any fun in the mean time. On that happy note....

Audrey

I was looking at some of my recent pictures of Audrey last night and I have decided something.

Her eyes are gorgeous and expressive. I can almost tell what she's thinking when I look in her eyes. You can't tell in the picture below, but her eye color is a lot like my mothers; cool blue. I don't know if they will change anymore before they're through. Plus, I'm jealous of her naturally arched eyebrows... mine only arch when I take the time to pull out the little hairs I don't want.


Secondly, I love her neck. I don't know what it is about it, but she has such a perfect neck! Maybe it's because when she was a baby, you could never see her neck, she had so much fat face in the way. Whatever the reason, I love looking at her neck now. I imagine that she'll have a lovely, long neck when she's older.

Maybe it's just because I'm her mom, but I think she is amazingly beautiful. I think she may be a heartbreaker when she's older. I'm hoping her love for books will keep her oblivious to boys for a long, long, long time.

I'm not THAT unbearable, am I?

On Tuesday, I was quietly reading and minding my own business. There was a sudden, but whispered, sound; like the flap of owl wings followed by a soft plop. I looked up curiously, though nothing was readily guilty of the noise. All I knew was that it came from the general direction of the TV. Hmm.
I was ready the next time the sound came, minutes later, and I caught the culprit in the act. By golly, my tulips were committing suicide! I bought them on Friday to console myself that Ben and Gabe were going out of town. Lovely, tall spring flowers were just the ticket to cheer myself up while bereft of my adult companions. To my surprise, my sweet-smelling friends didn't seem to reciprocate my affection and the petals were simply falling off the stems to their wilting doom behind the TV.

Sigh.

Plants never love me as much as I love them.