I get my hair cut at a place that only charges $10.  This is a welcome change, coming from Kansas City where the average haircut seemed to cost around $40.  However, the old adage is true, "You get what you pay for."  Because of that fact, I typically frequent this beauty shop only when I'm in need of a trim.  My heart of hearts and gut of gut feelings has guided me, thus far, to seek "new style" haircuts from fancier establishments.

Except for today when I went against my gut.

Mr. T was watching Tidytot while I zoomed out for a haircut.  Intending to get just a trim, I knew it would only take a few minutes.  Upon arrival, I decided last minute to go for the new do.

Not a huge mistake, but certainly not the best haircut I've ever received.  The layers certainly don't "lay" correctly.  I can mask it all with a couple of curls, so it's really no big deal.  

My main issue is that I used to look like this...

And now I look more like this...

That's right, folks.
Isaac Hanson from the Hanson Brothers.


I'm not a photographer, however...

Below are some pictures of Tidytot in the dress that I wore home from the hospital years ago.  Upon Grandma's request, I took a few pictures of her in the same dress.  

The picture below shows one of my favorite moments, thus far.  Mr. T and Tidytot reading books together.  I love how she is holding onto the corner of the book.


An Herb By Any Other Name Would Still Smell As Sweet

Sage Lydia
Here's the story behind the name...

As previously mentioned, Tidytot came two weeks early, so we weren't set on the name yet.  Sage was pretty much the only name that we'd given any serious consideration to.  Most conversations with Mr. T regarding the name of our future-born went something like this:

Me:  "What do you think of the name Lena?"
Mr. T:  "Ummm.  I don't know.  What do you think of the name Mary Gold?  Or Francis Inigo Montoya the Third?"
Me:  "Are you going to be serious about this?  We have to pick a name."
Mr. T:  "I am being serious."
Me:  "Stop it!"
Mr. T:  "You stop it!"
Me:  "No, you stop it!"
Mr. T:  "No, YOU stop it!"
Me:  "Ugh!  You make me CRAZY!"

And that pretty much sums up why we didn't have a name ready to go when I went into labor.  Also, why our child will not learn from her parents how to maturely deal with conflict.

Anyway, I knew deep down that Mr. T would pick her name.  He made a long list of names that he'd brainstormed and Sage was at the top of the list.  I would look the list over, make edits, ponder, etc.  I'm sort of a commitment-phobe, so giving my child a name they would have FOREVER was stressing me a little.  

Then all sorts of "Sage things" started happening.  A friend made us a hand towel with Sage on it.  I was in a wedding and was handed a bouquet with the words, "Oh, you got the one with all the Sage in it!"  (She made her own bouquets.)  We thought it was a pretty name - not overly common, feminine, easy to spell and pronounce.  It was really the only name in the forefront of our minds, although we had yet to have a grown-up conversation about it.  

So she came and we tried to find some free time to make a final name decision, but we didn't have much until it was almost time to leave the hospital.  We tossed several options around and settled on Sage Lydia.

Lydia because in the Bible, Lydia was the "seller of purple" and when Sage came out she had the most beautiful color of purple on her lips, eyelids and fingernails for several days.  It struck a cord with Mr. T.

Sage because it means "wisdom" and we thought that would be a helpful quality in our firstborn.  Come to find out, it's Mr. T and I who are the ones who need the wisdom.

After we got home from the hospital, I was pretty worried that maybe we picked the wrong name.  Why on earth would I think it a good idea to name my child when I was so sleep-deprived?!?  Also, we kept running into people who would say, "Oh, I know a Sage, but he's a boy," making our name more common and less feminine than we'd hoped.  

But I guess none of that really matters. 
She is our Sage and we pray wisdom over her life and over us as we raise her.

PS - Do you know about American Girl dolls?  Well, they have one "Doll of the Year" that they sell for one year only.  The 2013 Girl of the Year is named Saige.  I guess it is pretty feminine if American GIRL named a doll Saige. Plus this doll looks exactly like our daughter, except Sage Lydia doesn't have buck teeth, giant eyes, freckles, or long hair.  Other than that...


Amish Friendship Bread

Recently I was given a "starter" for Amish Friendship Bread and it's really got me thinking...

What happens is that you get a starter bag that you work with for 10 days until you can turn it into not only two loaves of bread for yourself, but also FOUR new bread starters that you can give away to other people.  What I'm trying to tell you is that the bread multiplies like rabbits!!!

That fact in itself is not a big deal.  However, my brain starts to do a tailspin when I consider that Amish communities really aren't that big.  So, if you live in an Amish community, who the hay are you supposed to give all the starters to!  I think it would be like giving someone a fruitcake at Christmas.  

"Oh, thanks Sarah...ANOTHER bread starter...." says one woman before she chucks it on the counter beside 6 other bread starters that were "gifted" to her that day.  

There are simply not enough people in Amish communities to support Amish Friendship Bread, ESPECIALLY considering that it is a sweet bread, not a sandwich bread that a family could consume quickly.

I am lead to believe that maybe we've all been lied to.  Maybe the Amish didn't come up with the whole passing on of bread starters gig.  Perhaps someone just branded it "Amish" because it sounded more authentic and delicious.  Or maybe the Amish just define "Friendship" differently.  To me it doesn't seem very friendly to plague an entire community with bread starters.  

I'm just sayin'...

Stay tuned for more random thoughts from a stay at home mother who, after typing this post, came to the realization that daily adult conversation should become more of a priority.  


A Few Pictures

During the first week home 

Cute close-up

Sleepy time

Stretchy time

Here's a more recent picture.  She's wearing the ballerina onesie that Aunt Mel Mel sent.

We had some professional pictures taken over Christmas.  I'll post those when we get the CD back soon.  They look a little something like this:

Hope you have a great weekend!


A Birth Story

A couple days ago we got the internet at our house.

That means at least two things:

1. We are no longer Amish.
2. I can now commence with the blogging.

Shall we begin...

As promised last time I blogged, I thought I'd go ahead and share how our Tidytot came into this world.

First of all, you should know that I was born about three weeks PAST my due date.  Not a kind thing to do to my mother, especially since she had to endure several more weeks of the August heat because of my procrastination.  Truth be told, I've been late ever since.  Never been on time for anything.  Probably never will be. 

Anyway, the point is that we were extra surprised when Tidytot came two weeks early!  This trait was not passed down from her mother.  I had just ended my employment and was gearing up to tackle a long "Things To Do Before Baby Comes" list.  The biggest thing to do was clean up our basement, which is our garage, laundry, storage and guest room all in one.  Some time ago our deep freeze went out (terrible story...I'll have to tell you later.)  In that process I pulled everything out of the storage side of our basement and into the guest room side.  It was trashed.  I mean TER-ASHED!  Stuff everywhere.  And it was really important to clean because my Mom was going to need a place to sleep when the baby arrived.

However, ready or not, here she came!

I started having contractions about 11:30 on Tuesday night.  Previously she had been kicking my ribs for weeks and I was waiting for her to "drop" so that the pressure in my ribs would be eased.  When the contractions started I hoped she had FINALLY dropped.  Then I thought, "If this is what it's like, I'd rather have her in my ribs!"  I felt the contractions for about an hour before I woke up Mr. T.  We started timing and discovered they were about 3 - 5 minutes apart.  Mr. T and I packed our bags.  I started to get weepy because we weren't ready and the basement wasn't ready and the dog wasn't ready and so on!  Next, a 2am call to the Dr. who correctly informed us that we needed to wait.  So, back to bed Mr. T went.  I headed down to the basement and started organizing the chaos in between my midnight contractions.  By the time morning rolled around the basement was ready to go.

We already had an ultrasound and appointment scheduled for Wednesday at noon.  Throughout Wednesday morning, I timed contractions, watched a movie and tried to eat as little as possible, just in case.  

Next, I drank my 8 gallons of water to prep for the ultrasound, we loaded our bags, and Mr. T and I headed to the hospital.  Contractions plus a full bladder do not mix well.  Fortunately, when we got to the room, the lab tech informed me that I didn't have to have a full bladder since I was so far along.  I loved that lab tech for saying I could use the bathroom.  I loved her so much I added her to my Christmas card list.

Ultrasound - check.

We ate lunch next.  Well, Mr. T ate lunch.  I just picked at a few things that I thought wouldn't look too gross if I threw them up.

Then the Dr.'s appointment.  I was still having contractions somewhat consistently and they were increasing in intensity.  Translation - they were starting to hurt, but I could deal with it.  However, Mr. T and I both thought they would roll their eyes and say, "Your contractions aren't bad enough yet.  You're not even in labor.  Come back in a couple of weeks."  

About 2:00 the Dr. came in to see how far I was dilated   May I take a moment and just say that there were many things I didn't know about labor and delivery.  For example, I didn't know that your cervix is actually located up by your esophagus.  I learned that when they checked to see how far I was dilated.  

Then the big shocker came.
"Oh my goodness!  You're already dilated to a 6, 100% effaced and (something about the head being in the right position)." said my Dr.  (For those who have no idea what that meant...you dilate to a 10 and then the baby comes.  I was over halfway.)

"Holy guacamole!" Mr T said.

"Well, shoot! This is going to be easier than I thought!" I said.
Famous last words.

Labor on, blah, blah, blah.

About 6:00 they broke my water.  They'd been offering pain medication and epidurals but I'd declined, thus far.  After they broke my water, I became nervous about how much worse the pain was going to get so I decided to try this pain medicine they put in your IV.  It was supposed to take the edge off, however, it only "took the edge off" for about 20 minutes.  I had two shots of it, but it wasn't really worth it.  The worst part is that now I can't brag about going through labor without pain medication because I had that dumb medicine that didn't even work!  

I can't remember what time the contractions started getting bad.  I do remember that it really, really, really hurt.  And then it started to hurt more.  And then all the medical people came and set up their tools and what not.  My breathing started to get kind of wonky and turned into more like hysterical crying/hyperventilating.  I tried to tell all of the medical professionals that I could not do it!  

"Yes you can," they would say.

"Actually I can't!" I would reply.

"You're almost there.  We can see the baby's head," came their sweet retorts.

"I SAID I CAN'T DO IT!!!!!!"

 Nobody was listening to me.

I guess they were right after all.  I pushed for 30 minutes and out she came at 7:17 pm.  All blue and slippery and screaming.

My first thought was, "Wow, she's so cool!"  Followed immediately by, "Why the HAY didn't I get the epidural!?"     

They say you get amnesia about the whole thing and slowly start to forget.  I've forgotten some things, but still remember quite a bit.  I think it's easier for men to forget.  I recently asked Mr. T when he'd like to start trying for another baby. 

He replied, "Well, according to my calculations, you'll be ovulating on Sunday."  

I guess that means he's ready. 

I'll post pictures tomorrow.  (Of Sage, not of the delivery.)