Fresh Air

So I've never changed my blog background. Never. Not once in over 2 years. It was always just too much hassle. I was bored today. So I did. What do you think? I'm picturing this fish swimming around singing in Dorie's voice, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming", which is pretty much how I'm feeling. I'm just treading water till this pregnancy ends.
I tried to shop today. I got to the DI. I pushed the cart through the shoe section, and the boys section, and then... ppphhhhhttttt. That was all I could do. I was bushed. I had to go home. I had big plans for today, but sadly, my body just can't keep up anymore. If there isn't a drive up window, I don't go there anymore. Problem is, I can't really do much housework either, so I pretty much do... nothing. If I have a book, I devour it in 2 days. If not, I sit at this computer and surf. It's pathetic. I need.... what? I don't know, not to be pregnant anymore? I'm really looking forward to the sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn. Isn't that ironic? Looking forward to that? Anything, as long as I'm NOT pregnant anymore. Watch. I've just cursed myself and this kid will be the colicky baby from h---.

Enjoy my new background. It may change tomorrow. We'll see how bored I am then...

Good Reads

I've been doing a little reading this month. Here are my favorites, which I highly recommend.

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

Narrated by death, this book is about a little German girl growing up in the midst of Hitler's 3rd Reich. Her family is sheltering a Jew in the basement, but it's not really about the Jews, or the Nazi's. It's about her life, and the trials she's going through during this difficult time. A very different perspective on the war, and death.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith.
Some people think this one is depressing. I didn't. It's about a poor Irish/American girl growing up in turn-of-the-century Brooklyn. Her life is very difficult, living at a level of poverty I can only imagine, however, it's a tribute to the strength of the human spirit, and the survival instinct. A very eye opening tragic tale of life 'back then'.

The Help, by Kathryn Stockett. This one was my favorite. A book about how black maids were treated by their white employers in the midst of the Civil Rights movement. Almost more tragic than slavery. It was a page turner, and I couldn't put it down for 2 days. Written in 3 voices, 2 black maids, and one white woman in her early 20's who is interviewing maids for a book she's writing, all the while worried that they'll be found out and lynched. It gives the white perspective, and the black. Fascinating!

School

School supplies: $45.00
Jr. High fees: $132.00
New outfits for the first day: $38.00

Not having to hear "I'm bored" 14 million times a day....

PRICELESS!

Tonsillolith

Otherwise known as Tonsil Stones. Have you ever heard of this? Luke has been complaining of these 'little white balls' in the back of his throat that he chokes up occasionally. I never paid any attention because honestly, it sounded too far-fetched, and I thought he was just 'crying wolf', or that he was swallowing bb's for some bizarre reason. Well yesterday, he says, "Mom, look in my throat." Ok, so I did, and UGH! this is what I saw. These little white bb looking balls lodged in his tonsils. It. was. disgusting. Ick. So gross. I immediately thought, great, now we're going to have to have his tonsils removed because that can't be normal. Apparently it's pretty common though. I googled it, and this is what I found out:

Tonsil stones, also known as tonsilloliths, are caused by an accumulation of sulfur-producing bacteria and debris that become lodged in the tonsils. The debris, which can include mucous from post nasal drip, putrifies in the back of your throat and collects in the tonsil crypts (small pockets which appear on the surface of the tonsils).

Putrified debris? I read that to Chris and he almost gagged. By the end of the day, they had dislodged and were gone. Now I guess the cycle repeats itself. He has no other symptoms though, never had strep throat, doesn't ever even have a sore throat, and other than bad breath, a side effect from the putrification going on in there *shudder*, he has no other problems. So I guess the tonsils get to stay. For now.

Come to think of it, I may have this same condition. Occasionally I feel like there is a ball in my throat that I just can't swallow. I've never looked though, so maybe it just comes out without my realizing it. Oh yuck. That's sooooo gross. I'm not looking. I don't want to know.

iphone does good

Chris' iphone and I have a love hate relationship. I want one. I hate that he has one. He's spending way less time on it at home lately, because I've threatened to leave him. I still want one, here's one reason. An iphone took this picture, with one of Apples free downloaded apps. There is an app for just about everything. It's really an amazing piece of technology. I love this photo. Can't believe it came from a cell phone.

Cats

Apparently, Kate is allergic to cats. Now they can't blame it all on me when I say, we will NEVER own a cat...

Forms

*Warning* This is another rant post. Feel free to skip it if you just don't want to hear me B-- and moan.

While other blogging moms have been busy this week waxing nostalgic over the first day of school, and how sad they are to see their precious ones leave for yet another year of education, I have been up to my eyeballs in forms. I'm not sad, (I couldn't wait to kick them out the door) and I'm not thinking about how fast their childhood is going by (I'm quite sure I have at least 10 more years of this to deal with) or how Luke grew up so fast (by my calculations, it took 12 years, and to me, it feels like it's been... about 12 years). Seriously, you can't register 3 children for school if you don't have at least 10 hours to fill out these absolutely necessary forms. Computer use agreements, safety procedures, emergency contacts, fee waivers, lunch program, Health forms... ad nauseum! Holy crap! If public schools are good at anything, it's RED TAPE!!! And then the first day of school brings with it each child returning home with a plethora of papers for me to read. I swear the girls brought home 5-10 pages each. Luke, way more than that, course objectives and descriptions, attendance and discipline policies, syllabi and orchestra calendars. And then there is 'Back to School' night, where we get to go sit in our child's itty bitty desk (are you picturing me balancing my big 'ole self in Kate's tiny little Kindergarten chair, trying to figure out WHERE to put my knees, since they desk is so low? It was absurd, let me assure you.) only to be handed MORE papers with class rules and teacher philosophies, school supply lists and birthday procedures, all the while, the teacher is READING this to us, as if we are not capable of reading it ourselves! And can I just let you in on a little secret? I DON'T CARE! Really. I don't. If I want information, I will seek it out on my own.
And then I'm on to Tess' class. Her teacher, bless her little young self, it's her 3rd year teaching, she is maybe, 25. At the end of her telling us everything that's on the 3 page handout she JUST GAVE US, she procedes to say, "I know this is a lot of information I'm throwing at you, and you're all probably a little bit overwhelmed..." Honey. We're all at least 15 years older than you, and I for one, think I can handle, 'all that information', and IF I get lost, I'll just REFER to the HANDOUT. It's fourth grade, not rocket science. I could barely stop from rolling my eyes at her. But I did, because I was on the FRONT row. Not by choice mind you. We had to sit in our child's seat. Oh, the torture. Add to it all that it's about 400* in the school at night, because they have no A/C, and I'm literally thinking I'm going to go into some kind of heat-induced labor, so I'm fanning myself like crazy with the stupid handout, and the whole while wondering, why did I have to come sit here in this hell, just to have the teacher READ me the handout that she could have just sent home with the MILLIONS of other handouts?! Is it the general consensus among school teachers that all parents are idiots, and therefore, not capable of reading and understanding elementary classroom rules/procedures on their own, thus necessitating a group meeting to drill it into us? Maybe they just want to see who the 'good parents' are going to be. Chris failed this test, as he refused to go with me. Well, call me unsupportive, but I'm gonna PASS next year. And I'm NOT joining the PTA. So there.

It's all about me

Ella, I mean. Here's a sample of our(her) family prayers:

Dad: Thank you for our blessings
Ella: Thank you for my bessings
Dad: Please bless us to sleep well
Ella: Peas bess my bed
Dad: We're grateful for Jesus
Ella: gateful for my Jesus
Dad: We're thankful for grandma and grandpa
Ella: Thank you for my gramma and papa
Dad: Thank you for Luke...and Tess... and Kate...and Ella
Ella: Thank you for my Lukey...and my Tessy...and my Katie...and me.

You get the picture. It's all about her. She insists on being the one to pray every night, so this is pretty much our routine. We say, 'we, us, our' she says, 'me, mine, my'. It's hard to keep a straight face. The kids almost always bust up laughing. I love 3 year olds. They say the funniest things.
This is a photo of her mad face, btw. She has a really great pouty lip.

Privacy!

It seems with 4 kids in the house, Chris and I have to barricade ourselves in our room to get any alone time. Seriously, there were no locks on the doors in Cedar City, so we'd literally move furniture in front of the door if we really didn't want the kids to interrupt. I mean, sitting on the toilet doesn't even warrant privacy, let alone 'mom and dad' time. So a while back, Chris and I were laying in bed, just talking mind you, when Luke comes barging in without so much as a knock.

Me: Luke! You need to knock! We could have been having SEX, do you WANT to see that?!
Luke: (with a total look of horror on his face) NOOOO!

I think that gave him something to think about. He hasn't barged into our room since. Now if only we could get Ella to leave us alone!

I'll worry about it later

I had an appointment with my midwife this week. I haven't been in for 6 weeks. I gained 10#. Puts me up about 20#, I think. I don't know exactly where I started, as I don't live on my scale. I was a size 10, that's all I know. Yesterday I put on a pair of Medium maternity shorts, and found, to my dismay, they were too tight. Waaaay too tight. OK, that's all right, except that I still have 7 weeks to go. I'm much bigger this go round. By the end of the day, I can't walk without a severe waddle no matter how hard I try, my pubic bone just aches too much.
Here's the thing though, I'm not stressing about it. I figure, being pregnant is the only time in my life where I really should not be concerned about my weight. I'll just deal with it later. If the nursing doesn't take care of the extra lbs., I guess I'll have to try exercise. That won't kill me, I know, but for now, I'm enjoying myself. I had a snickers bar and a Coke for breakfast. It's like high school all over again, except that my sugar overload was always followed by 2 hours of dancing... well, I'll waddle around the house for a while. That ought to take care of it. Right?!
No? Well, in my head, this is what I look like...

Oh no, they didn't

yes, they did. Qwest just sent me an email survey for my recent 'service' issues. Boy are they going to get it.... WHAMMO! Right in the kisser!

Not my problem

So since we've been in Bountiful, I have not had reliable, fast, easy internet. We started with Cricket, because I hate Qwest. That sucked. Big time. It would log me out by the time I'd finished writing a post, so then I'd lose the whole thing, have to pull the wireless thingy out, reboot, wait, UGH! I wanted to kill myself. So we checked out our other options, and it turns out Qwest was the cheapest, and *ahem* easiest. That was TWO WEEKS AGO! NOTHING, I repeat, NOTHING is easy with Qwest. I hate this company. Spirit of Service my a**. Heaven forbid you should have any problems and need to talk to someone to get them resolved! You end up talking to someone in Indonesia, or for tech support, the Ukraine, and these people, while I'm sure are of average intelligence, can't communicate in English well enough to get the problem fixed, leaving me cursing and raving about their 'idiocy'. It takes 10 minutes just getting through the damn phone tree, where you are talking to a machine, like an idiot, ("Yes! YES! YEEEEESSS!" , "Mom? Why are you yelling into the phone?")before you are finally connected to Sri Lanka, where Kabat, tells you, "He is happy to be serving you, OK?" and proceeds to ask you ALL the SAME questions you just answered with the machine! I swear I spent 40 min. on the phone with one of these people, and got NOWHERE, and just had to call back a week later, and when that didn't fix the problem, a week after that. They sent 'the guy' out to hook us up. 'He' said the outside wiring was fixed, and it was an INTERNAL problem. Please pay $85 for a NEW tech guy to come fix THAT. So, in desperation, I make Chris mess with the phone jacks. This gets us nowhere, now we can be on the internet OR talk on the phone, but not BOTH at the same time. AARRGGGHHH!! So I finally break down, go through the phone tree from hell again, to have them send 'another guy' out, and YES! I'll agree to the damn $85 charge!!!! Well guess what? 'THIS guy', says it's NOT the internal wiring. It is IN FACT the OUTSIDE wiring, still messed up. So I say, "So this is not MY problem?" and he says, no. No $85 charge. Well, after 5 phone calls, to at least 5 different countries, and 2 tech guys, we finally have fast, reliable internet. AND phone. OMH. I need an aspirin and a cold compress. Talk about a headache.

But I will be blogging again. And checking my email, and bank accounts, and even my stupid Facebook page occasionally, on a daily basis. Man, you never know how much the internet means to you, until you are without it. Sheesh. How did we ever live without it?

Seventeen

Chris and I 'celebrated' our 17th anniversary yesterday. I know. 17 years. I can hardly believe it's been that long. We've never really given each other gifts, as we are usually too poor, but Chris has written me more than one poem or letter to signify the passing of another year together.

Here's this years edition:

Seventeen

When we were seventeen it was a very good year,

All of our children were almost here

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen our love had so much light

Even though were are in a fight

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen I was a bit chubby

But you were still glad I was your hubby

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen you had a baby bump

But you still had a great rump

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen you were still smokin' hot

And our important date you never forgot

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen our love was so strong and true

Even though we thought raising children would never be through

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen our house was a little bit tight

And Ella’s hair was a fright.

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen I had a big land cruiser

And you had to sleep with a big loud snoozer.

When we were seventeen

When we were seventeen I was the luckiest man ever

Because you said you would love me forever

When we were seventeen

OK, now I have to tell you that we are not in a fight, anymore. I only threatened (while hysterical) to leave him if he didn't come home immediately, the night before. You all know about my mental state these past 7 months. Totally not my fault, but truth be told, I'm a bit unstable. OK, OK, I'm a raving lunatic. But it's all his fault for putting me in this 'state', so it's only fair he should have to deal with my psychosis. I have my moments of irrationality, but I usually come back to my senses the next day. I'm not leaving him. Yet.

We actually have a great marriage. We prefer one anothers company above all else, and see pretty much eye to eye on everything. It hasn't always been so, but if it wasn't hard work, it wouldn't be a marriage, right? Our friend Bonnie even called us her 'marriage guru's', and she's seen us at our worst. All in all, we have our fights, but they are few and far between, and usually all his fault. Yeah, stop laughing. He still needs to learn that I'm always right, but other than that, he's the perfect husband. And the best father. And pretty dang good in the bedroom too... ah, TMI. Sorry honey.

So, here's to SEVENTEEN years of married bliss (with the occasional bump), just think, in SEVENTEEN more years, we'll almost be empty-nesters. *sigh* We're half way there baby!

Grandma

I have no living grandparents. My last one, Grandma Nakaya died on Friday. She was 93. She had been admitted to the care facility my brother works at just 3 days earlier after she fell and fractured her pelvis. She's been having mini- strokes, had congestive heart failure, and could no longer hold up her head. All these problems only came on recently though. For the better part of 92 years, she's been healthy as a horse, walking the mall at 6 am, volunteering at her church, and taking care of her home and garden. It was sad to see her decline, get so thin (thinner), and start to lose her short term memory. She'd ask you the same questions over and over.
I took the kids to see her Tuesday morning. She remembered Kate and Ella, which was a surprise, because 2 days earlier she didn't know who my brother was. She asked me when the 'mellon' was going to be ripe. We talked about how she had five children, and I would have five children. She seemed in good spirits, although, she kept nodding off during our visit, and she looked so fragile and weak. The cardiologist had given her about 3 months before her heart gave out, but the next night, she got up to use the bathroom (she couldn't walk unassisted anymore, but didn't know it) and she fell, hit her head on the toilet and died. They said she was up and talking, but within a half hour she had died. She didn't suffer. I guess it was a blessing. Seems a sad way to go though. But, hit your head and die, or, linger for months... I don't know. It was a bit of a shock, but then I felt myself being grateful that her suffering was over.
Because of my beliefs, I know she's in a better place, freed from her aged body, with my sweet Grandpa again. My dad is one of 5, and the only LDS member. His younger sister is taking it pretty bad, she is an atheist and doesn't believe in any life after death, consequently, death is very hard for her to deal with. I feel bad for her. I wish I could share some of the peace I feel in knowing that Grandma lives on, and is happy. I wish I could make her believe that she WILL see her again. It makes death bearable. My Aunt thinks we're crazy. I guess she believes the majority of the people on earth are crazy too, since almost everyone believes in some sort of after-life. We may all be wrong (we aren't) but even if we were, isn't living life with some hope, and the peace that that hope brings, better than what she deals with every time a loved one dies? How sad to be such a pessimist. Grandma was an active member of her Japanese Christian Church. She went every week, and was very active with it. I know she believed in an after-life.
Anyway, I'm getting off the subject. My Grandma, Ichiyo 'Pat' Hayashi Nakaya was a rock. Literally, one of the toughest women I knew. Stubborn and opinionated to a fault, but you can't blame her, her life made her into what she was, a no-nonsense, no excuses, resilient woman. She was the oldest of 4 siblings. Her mother died when she was 12 or 14, and she became the 'woman' of the house, assuming all of her mother's duties, including the care of her siblings. Her father was a chronic gambler and sold his 3 daughters into indentured servitude to pay off his debts. Yes, shocking, but that still happened in those days. My grandmother worked extra hard to 'pay off' his debt and win her freedom, and then worked harder to free her 2 sisters, one of which was being abused. All of this, probably before she was 20. She was born in CA, and therefore, legally a citizen of the U.S. That didn't matter when the gov't rounded up all Japanese Americans and illegally detained them into the 'camps'. She lived there for 3 years, was allowed only a suitcase going in, lost all of her worldly possesions- which probably didn't amount to much- had to share barracks with multiple families, care for 3 boys, and all without her husband for most of the time as he was allowed to leave and work 'inland'(Chicago)- where he wasn't a threat to the US. My father was concieved in the camp. At 8 mos pregnant, she and her 3 children were given a bus ticket to the nearest town in ID, and told to leave. They couldn't get any farther. Dad was born in Rupert ID. Grandpa came back and found work, pitching hay bales at a local farm. They didn't have enough money to get back to CA where they had a life before. Grandpa was 4-foot nothing, and I'm sure those hay bales were bigger than him. The work was too hard for him, so they came to UT, looking for better work. He became a short order cook, and grandma went to work as a seamstress. They both worked those jobs till retirement, day in- day out, raising 5 kids in a tiny 2 bedroom house by the railroad tracks in SLC. I'm sure life was hard, but I never once heard her complain about her lot in life. I never heard her talk about the camps, unless asked point blank questions. She didn't complain, she just made do. All I know about her trials came from great aunts and cousins. She didn't talk about herself. Life started out bad for her, maybe she didn't know any different.
She was the best cook EVER. She raised a wonderful garden every year. She and Grandpa took us fishing every summer when we were kids. We loved it. She gave me a Madam Alexander doll every year for Christmas. Her children all went to college. They are all successful. She had 13 grandchildren, 25 great grandchildren with one more (mine) on the way. She left behind nothing of any worldly value, but left behind a great legacy of character, hard work, and fortitude for her posterity. We are all indebted to her for the way she lived her life and influenced us all. We are blessed to be numbered in her posterity. She was a pioneer, a different kind than we Mormons are used to, but nevertheless, a pioneer. Rest in peace Grandma, you've earned it. I'll see you on the 'other' side, and give Grandpa a hug for me.

Manipulation

Ella wanted scrambled eggs for lunch today. As I was cooking them, she asked if I would blow on them, till they cooled off. I told her no, she could do that herself. She said in a very sweet voice, "If you don't blow on my eggs, I won't be your best friend anymore."
I'm blaming Martelena for that one, because I've never heard it said around the house. Brother. This girl is going to be the death of me. (*in my head* 'she's just a child.... she's just a child... she's just a child....')

Well Shod

So these are the shoes that my sister passed down for the baby. Go ahead, count 'em. 50 pair, in sizes 2-8! I didn't even include the size 1's or the other 8 pairs she sent later. Imelda Marcos had nothing on this kid. Of these, maybe 7 were from Luke. This baby will be well shod, for a fifth child!

Ella is three!

Ella turned 3 on the 26th. I was still in CA, so I called her on the phone to say Happy Birthday. She asked me if she could open her 'happy birthdays' (presents), to which I said, "Why don't you wait till I get home tomorrow and we'll have your party?" Awwwww! she whined, and then said, "Bye mom", and promptly hung up on me. Well, at least her incessant chattering doesn't transfer to the phone, we may find comfort in that when she is a teenager.
As promised, I got home Monday and we had the family down for cupcakes and ice cream. She was thrilled with her TWO pairs of sunglasses, (Chris thinks it's funny that she's grabbing herself in that photo...) and all her other gifts. Thanks everyone. I could get used to these low key family parties, now that family is so close. Next year though, I suppose she'll want balloons, friends, games and a pinata. I love it when it's 'family only' year.
So I was reviewing all Ella's birthday posts and realized that I never shared her birth story. So here goes. Ella was due July 27th. Don't ask me why I didn't think about being pregnant in the summer when she was conceived. Actually, I think I was just still in shock over the revelation that we had two more babies to have, and I was feeling like we needed to get 'on it', sooner rather than later, so I broke my 3 year span rule, and got pregnant 6 mo. earlier than I usually would have. This posed the problem of having two in diapers, but Kate is my champion potty trainer, and was trained by June, at 2 1/2.
Back to Ella, that last month of the pregnancy was rough. No A/C in our old Cedar house, and it was a hot July. I spent my nervous energy prying up dead dandelions on the front lawn for about a week before she was due, and I'd get out of bed as soon as the sun came up to go work in the garden, since it was cooler out there than in bed. I don't know when I expected her to come, but I figured it'd be right about due date time, since Kate was 2 days early. On the 26th, I started having good contractions. Chris had gone mtn. biking or something, I forget, with his friends. I called him when the contractions were bringing me to tears. He rushed right home and we rushed right to the Hospital. I was already at a 6, so 'pop that epidural in please!' It was my best one yet. I could still control my legs. With Tess, I swear they were like dead weights. At one point I remember seeing my leg start to fall, and I actually thought that if it fell off the table, it would drag my whole body with it, it was SOOOO heavy! I screamed at Chris, "Grab my leg, it's falling!" Anyway, epidural is in, it's now about 6pm. The midwife came and checked me around 7:30 and said I was at an 8, but she thought if she just stretched me a little, we'd be good to go. She did, and we were. I was pushing at 8pm. Ella made her debut at 8:15. A little less than four hours before her due date. Figures.
It was my best birth yet. After the horrors of the 'home birth', anything would have been better really, but a few pushes, and out she came, and NO TEARS! Hallelujah! That was a first for me. But then the blood started coming. And coming. And coming. And the midwife was starting to bark orders and get a little frantic. She had Chris knead my uterus, because she was getting tired, I was told to rub both my nipples. There were people running all over the place and the cute respiratory therapy guy was trying to keep a little oxygen mask on Ella, who was still on my chest, until I said, 'Why don't you just take her?' Honestly, there were so many people touching/kneading/rubbing/swabbing me, I felt like a three ring circus.
After about 15 min. of trying to stop the bleeding, she looked up and told me I needed to pray, because we had to get the bleeding stopped soon. I remember starting a prayer, but then thinking, 'No. It's going to be alright. I'll be fine.' About that point I started to shiver and get really sleepy. Apparently, you can't lose that much blood without losing consciousness at some point. Chris was of course, horrified. He later told me that when I said, "I feel sleepy." He inwardly screamed, "DON'T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT!" Have I mentioned his weird fear of me dying in child birth? It's why he is useless at my births. He is vomiting in a corner, or with Kate, completely and totally checked out, just so that he can get through it. Honestly, I don't think it's rational. With my last birth coming up, I think I can say fairly confidently, I'll live to see my kids grown. Anyway, the midwife called in her backup Doc, but by the time he got there, the bleeding had finally stopped. I lost 2400cc's. I don't know, is that a lot? They didn't transfuse me, but I did have a rough week making up for the loss.
I will say, I still consider it my best birth. The labor was short, but the epidural came quickly, and she came quickly too, BUT, the after birth pains nearly put me over the edge. I'd never had them so bad. The next night, I was in so much pain I was pacing about the room hysterical. I mean, with labor, you know it WILL end sometime, how long were these pains going to last? And would they give me another epidural to deal with them? Honestly, they were worse than the labor. I was panicked. My midwife came in, asked if the pacing was helping, and when I said No! she got me back into bed and got right in my face and said, I don't remember what, but it calmed me down. She then ordered a strong painkiller, and told me to leave the baby in the nursery for the night while I slept it off. Fine by me. No attachment to Ella was worth that pain in my frenzied mind. As I was drifting off to sleep after swallowing that wonderful pill, I heard Chris out in the hall talking to her. He was explaining that I wasn't mental, it's just that I really didn't handle pain well AT ALL. She seemed to think that maybe I was going to need a psych consult. Hard to believe? Well, I guess you all know me too well to not believe it.
The next morning I was great, the pains were manageable, and I could enjoy Ella. She was beautiful, and a really good nurser, so we went home. And that is the story of Ella's birth. Granted, it was all about me, but hey, that's just the way I roll (blog)... apparently.
Happy Birthday Ella!

Bad Hair Day

Ella is going to be having a bad hair day for about the next 3 months. After her Martelena experience, she thought she'd have a go of it herself. Soooo, when she was up at grandma's, she found a pair of scissors and proceeded to give herself the worst hair cut ever. Seriously, there is absolutely nothing I can do to fix this one, short of buzzing her head. Which, were she a boy, we would do. Sadly, she's going to look pathetic for quite some time. I cut off another inch, but she is still basically bald in this spot. I. Could. Kill. Her. And I know, I know, It's JUST hair! When I was scolding her, harshly, she just looked at me with that blah look of hers. The one that says, "Yell all you want. I don't care what you say. I'll do what I want, when I want." No tears, no scowl. Just a blank expression. *growl*.