Bowler Hat Beauty

Happy Halloween! This costume is Haley’s brain-child, worked into reality with her own blood, sweat and tears. Nathan’s work group is CRAZY about Halloween and they all dressed as Disney villains. Nate was Bowler Hat Guy from Meet the Robinsons. So, being the cheap-o’s we are with the crazy daughter we have, we just used the same costume for Darby once Nate was done with it. She looked AWESOME! I kept hearing people talk about her and how great her costume was. She even had a bald cap with the little swirl of hair (I didn’t even think to take her hat off and get a picture of that, but it is there). She looked great and had a really fun time.

On Thursday, Darby’s preschool class got to wear their costumes to school. We couldn’t use Bowler Hat Guy because Nate would need it on Friday, and we didn’t want Darby to miss out. So, we had a ball of red yarn that Corrine bought for the Darbs to play with and we decided to fashion a Pippi Longstocking wig out of it. It turned out really great, even though it looks like a mix somewhere in the fray of Pippi, the Wendy’s girl (Wendy, I presume), and Raggedy Ann. Her schoolmates said that she looked “awesome” and she felt so good about herself! She is so fun and so wild; while all of her contemporaries are prancing around in princess dress-up stock and crap tiaras, Darby is bold and fun. I love my daughter.

How was your Halloween?

A Good Day

I know I just posted a few hours ago, but I wanted to share a sweet experience that Frankie and I just shared with Darby.

Last night, as we were going to bed, Darby complained to me, saying, “I NEVER get to go to the temple with you and Daddy.” So, I promised her that we would go with her Daddy to the temple the next day during his lunch break and have a picnic. We did and after we ate our lunch near the visitors’ center, we went inside to look at all of the displays. Upon entering the center, there is the Christus statue. Darby ran up to it and when I asked her who it was, she said, “Jesus Christ!” We talked about the marks in his hands and feet (left out the side) and she reached up to touch one of his feet. Then she reached up and touched his robe and said, “I can’t believe it.”

We went into a display room and Darby ran right out. I followed and found her back at the Christus, pressing her precious little fingers to the mark on his right foot. It was so sweet to see my daughter processing what her Savior did and who He is.

Then, she saw the fountain outside the visitors’ center and said, “(gasp) That’s Jesus Christ’s pool!”

It made me think about the scripture (Bing would know the reference, but I don’t know it off-hand) where He says that He will never forget us; that He has engraven us upon the palms of His hands.

I think the pool comment must have made Him smile, too.

A Letter to my Nemesis

Dear Jillian Michaels,

Oh, how I hate your stinking guts. Every time you say, “fight it!” and “I want you to feel like you are going to die”, I just grunt out obscenities and feel rage welling up inside of me. I hate your rocking body and the knowledge that mine will never look like that. I want you to stop smiling during work-outs; I would feel much better if you were crying the way I want to cry while I’m doing a “goddess” hold or attempting “rock-star” jumps. Cry, Jill! CRY!

That said, I also love you. I love the changes I do see and the new sizes I haven’t fit into since fifth grade. The last scale visit I had (only for doctor appointments, I never keep one in the house) left me astonished and I wanted to shout it from the roof-tops! Your work-outs are short enough that I can do them with my daughter around and effective enough that I feel like I’ve done a good job rather than wasted my time.

So, rage on, Jillian.

Love, Hillary

My favorite work-out is Jillian Michaels’ Yoga Meltdown. It helps with my MS symptoms and kicks my can every time. What are your favorites?

Twist and Shout

Seriously though, have you ever had a mammogram? Holy crap, that hurts! I’ve had far too many at my relatively young age and will have them pretty frequently, probably for life. No worries; today’s didn’t result in a biopsy or lumpectomy (though I do enjoy a good anesthesia-induced nap), just another one in six months. Now THAT is something to look forward to. The room today was freezing, like runny nose kind of cold. And I’m standing in there, bare breasted while an icy, gloved hand maneuvered my girls around. Then, she’d hold them in place as she closed the machine down on them. Just as I thought that I couldn’t take the pain for a second longer (and this coming from me, who was in labor for 71 full hours, so I’m pretty tough), she’d stop the machine. Thank goodness, right? Wrong. Then she’d manually tighten it up a couple of notches more. She’d tell me to hold my breath while she took the x-ray, but I always already was. I find that in moments of extreme agony, I tend to stop breathing anyway. My last mammo wasn’t nearly so brutal and I sort of scoffed at women who complain about them. Oh, how I repent of that. Last time, I didn’t have a mess of scar-tissue from July’s lumpectomy. Yeah, my boobs are getting prettier and prettier as time passes.

Sitting out in the waiting room between the mammo and the breast ultrasound, another woman caught my eye. She was observing social etiquette and not mentioning how awkward it was that we were sitting there in silence, bra-less and wearing a little smock/shirt that we were desperately trying to keep closed. I can never handle good manners for very long, so I said, “You know, I’m thinking of taking this sweet shirt home so that I can wear it in my family portrait.” She was obviously unimpressed with my lack of couth and said, “At least they are pink.” To which I replied, “Yes, it helps maintain an air of femininity.”

Really I don’t know what kind of a comment you could possibly make in regards to this post, so the pressure is off.