Category Archives: Stuff Sarah Does

Keto

Some people close to us are aware that Hubby and I have been trying over a year for Baby #2, without any luck. Last week, I was finally able to see a doctor to discuss my concerns, which he took seriously enough (thank goodness) to order tests. But after he had done that, he sat down with me and explained, “You know, it could be nothing more or less than your weight.” Oh. Yeah. That.

Look, I have never been thin. Even a hundred pounds ago, I thought I was fat. I have always thought that I am fat. I’ve talked about this before, how in the aftermath of losing my parents and struggling with my mental health, I ballooned up to 230 pounds in just a year. I got back down to 200, and then I got pregnant. After that, I figured, what’s the point in killing myself to lose the baby weight if I’m just going to get pregnant again in two years?

And there’s the rub: I’m not pregnant. I have been able to conceive. And it might be all my fault — well, my treacherous body’s fault, anyway.

So I took the doctor’s words to heart: I walked straight out of his office and into a new diet. I have to try, at the very least, or the medical community at large will never acquiesce to helping us have another baby, if it so happens that we need to try IVF or something like that in future. Friends of mine have had great success with the low-carb diet route. One of my close friends has been on the ketogenic diet and it gave her great results, so I decided to start there. Also, I have been on my share of diets in the past, but low-carb was never on the menu. I LOVE CARBS. I love bread, and pasta, and potatoes, and fried things, and you can take them away from me after prying my cold, dead fingers apart. BUT — eye on the prize. If I’m going to have better results, I need to try something different than anything I have ever done before.

I decided to start on a Friday, since I have heard the first few days of this transition can be hellacious. I didn’t want to be at work while going through literal withdrawal from carbs and sugar.

Day One: ALL THE CHEESE
image

I can totally do this. I can totally live on cheese and meat and cream and vegetables. Om nom nom!
By lunch I have run out of no-carb options in the house. This place is Carbohydrate Hell.

I resolve to go to the market as soon as possible and start scouring the web for every low-carb/no-carb food item that I will need.

Day Two: Espresso with Heavy Cream
Not a bad way to start the day, since I am already sick and tired of eggs. Not even the avocado on top can make them easier to choke down.

image
And you have no idea how much I want that romaine to be a baguette. No. Idea.

Went to the store and bought all the things the Internet said I would need for this diet. I am going to be very poor until I reach my goal.

Day Three: I Hate Eggs

I feel like death. I have no energy, I’m nauseated, and my brain is fuzzy. Today’s highlight was my friend, Steph, resident keto guru, coming over and cooking for me. She made a great soup with beef, cabbage, and mushrooms. Still, I have not felt satisfied by anything I’ve eaten in the past three days. I am not hungry. I feel pretty full actually, but, emotionally and mentally,  I feel empty.

Day Four: Food is for the Weak

I have transcended the need for physical sustenance. Coffee with heavy cream and water are all I need. All day, I have felt a physical aversion to all other (keto-friendly) foods that is reminiscent of my first few months of pregnancy. In the meantime, I stepped off an elevator today and caught a strong whiff of pizza (Sunway’s Flatizza to be exact). My reaction was akin to Edward Cullen’s psychopathy upon smelling Bella’s blood for the first time. That poor Sandwich Artist didn’t know what hit him.

image
But instead of draining his life blood, I ordered a salad. Good on me.

Day Five:
I am too bitchy to come up with anything pithy to say about today. Today sucked.

image
But here’s a picture of my dinner, if it makes you happy. Asshole.

Day Six: Naughty Rice

The world is not a friendly place for the no-carb syndicate. I didn’t have time to pack a lunch, so I had to go hunt for a keto-friendly option at the mall. I settled on a poke bowl, figuring that I could just toss the one dollar worth of rice at the bottom.

image
Tempt me not, white demon!

And so help me God, I tried, but that delicious white sushi rice called to me in a voice both forbidden and tantalizing — I couldn’t help myself!

I had a few bites and then I threw it out. And maybe I cried a little. Whatever. Don’t judge me!

Day Seven: Finally Feeling Human Again

After a full week of keto, I finally feel like I’m coming out from under the fog. My disposition has evened out some, and I don’t feel perpetually angry. Though I’m still a little salty over all the things I enjoy that I can’t eat right now. I see the results of ketosis, though not necessarily weight loss results. Of course, I haven’t weighed myself, but I do feel a little less bloated than I did a week ago, as if my body were a balloon that is slowly losing its air. I feel cautiously optimistic. Aside from the ill-begotten rice from yesterday, I haven’t slipped up — not EVEN when offered a free gourmet cupcake.

I have never been a successful dieter, but maybe that’s because I never had a reason to be: I’ve been healthy; low cholesterol, low blood pressure; all of these years, despite gaining a considerable amount of weight. I have body dysmorphia issues going way back — I’ve never been proud of the way I look. But gaining a hundred pounds over ten years has forced me to make my peace with that. I will never be thin. I will always be curvy. And clearly, no matter what size my jeans are, I’ll always feel fat. So I came to the conclusion that I had to love myself regardless. I had to love my fattiness. I’m still not the poster child for body-positivity, but I did a pretty decent job of cultivating that unconditional love for myself since M was born.

I’m proud of that achievement, and to my benefit, it has nothing to do with what I’m attempting now. I’m not trying to get thin. I’m not doing this to look or feel better — I looked and felt fine while I was eating carbs with every meal, thank you very much. No, I’m doing this to get my body in gear to host another life, to get my insides on board with my reproductive plan. That’s a very salient with specific goal for me to focus in on. And as anyone who knows me can attest to: I can be quite tenacious when pursuing my goals.

That being said, I’m also conceding some points relating to my health that I have long ignored: I have an unhealthily emotional relationship with food. I self-medicate frequently and with abandon. So that’s something I’m going to need to work on even after my end-goal is reached. I need to get on-top of my manic binge-eating. I need to make healthier choices and be a better role model for my daughter. I know all of these things, but they are not as easy to fix as my endocrinological system might be. At the end of the day, I’m still a work in progress. But hey, at least there is progress to be had.

Advertisements

In Defense of Sadness

Recently, M and I sat down to watch Inside Out together and I live-tweeted it, which was fun.

image

I was excited to see the film for the first time — the previews looked great and as I mental health advocate, I had high hopes for this film that would be all about getting to know your feelings. As I watched, however, I felt that, as a person who lives with a behavioral disorder, the film doesn’t really do anything positive for the representation of people who have mood disorders, who are introverted, or who are non-nuerotypical in any way. Given the positive reviews this film received from the mental health community when it was first released, I was surprised and disappointed to see that this film actually promotes several negative stigmas, particularly in regard to the character of Sadness.

In the beginning of the film, there exists only Joy — that is the first emotion to come into being inside the main character, Riley’s, newborn mind. Sadness joins shortly thereafter, in a serious reversal that I believe any parent would attest to: what newborn shows an actual capacity for happiness in their first few months, let alone moments, of being? Sorry, Disney, but most babies are just crying, pooping potatoes for the first few months of life, with nary a giggle to be seen.

newborn
Oh yeah, that’s the face of Joy right there.

Immediately following the arrival of Sadness, the two characters are shown to be in direct opposition to each other. While Sadness seems to be largely indifferent to Joy’s presence, Joy is persistently trying to be rid of Sadness. Joy’s constant attempts to undo the presence of Sadness are troublesome. In the beginning of them film, Joy says that she doesn’t know what Sadness does, that it seems that Sadness to serves no obvious purpose (at least, compared to the other emotions), and that Joy has checked and “there’s nowhere for her to go”. That’s a very sophomoric perspective on the role of sadness in the human experience. Sadness is a very important emotional function — just as much as joy, fear, anger, or disgust. However, Joy’s complete rejection of Sadness’ utility is continually played out as she persistently bullies Sadness for simply existing.

The other emotions, Fear, Anger, and Disgust, despite being negative emotions, seem to meet with Joy’s approval because they each serve a clear and present purpose in the life of Riley. The filmmakers and writers obviously tried to increase the utility of Fear, Anger, and Disgust by having each of them appear to be multifaceted in their expression of emotional states of being. While Joy appears to embody only that which is effervescent and positive, the other Emotions are observed to act both as their functionary titles and with correlated emotions. The character of Disgust, for instance, not only represents a biologically programmed aversion to new foodstuffs, but also cattiness, sarcasm, and social acumen.

This approach by the filmmakers allows the audience a fairly intuitive grasp of the purpose of each Emotion. The character designs were carefully planned out to reinforce the correlation of the given emotion to the personified character. Fear is thin, anxious, and prone to surprise. Anger is short, stout, and blocky. Disgust is green, for crying out loud! But then, there is Sadness. Sadness is depicted as dowdy, short, and plump. She wears glasses and she’s extremely soft-spoken. Despite appearing to be well-meaning, Sadness is revealed to be a trouble-maker in the eyes of her cohorts, if an accidental one. In every way imaginable, Sadness’ character was designed to imply that she is undesirable. Additionally, by casting Sadness as the foil to Joy’s character, the writers reinforce a harmful societal value: that sadness, introvertedness, and introspection are wrong and therefore we must all strive to be happy, one-hundred percent of the time.

It’s disingenuous to portray Sadness this way. Many people, myself included, don’t experience happiness in the over-wrought, excited way in which the character of Joy is portrayed. For us, happiness comes from time spent alone, in introspection, gaining energy from our communion with ourselves. In that way, Sadness might be in my driver’s seat — but that doesn’t make me perpetually sad, and it doesn’t make me wrong. It is simply the way I best interact with the world. But instead of making her dynamic as the human experience, Inside Out’s Sadness is written as a witless castaway, unworthy of merit.

Meanwhile, Joy is clearly made out to be Riley’s primary and most desirable emotion — of course, considering the only four other options: Fear, Sadness, Anger, and Disgust — Joy is the only character that doesn’t have a negative connotation to compete with. Of course you want Joy to be in charge! You wouldn’t want any of those other bad emotions to be responsible for your world interactions, would you?

This is heavily reminiscent to me of the way that I am often treated by well-meaning extroverts: Why would you want to stay home and be sad all weekend? Because I’ve had a busy week interacting with people, and I am out of spoons. Why do you listen to that sad music? It only makes you feel worse! No, this music jives with my soul, and it is healing me.

You see, just because I experience the world differently from you, doesn’t mean that I’m wrong. I am just different. Please, allow me to be different without fear of reprisal.


 

image
“Being sad reminds us how to appreciate being happy.” Yeah, no.


By the end of the film, we begin to see that Emotions can work in tandem to create memories, which is meant by the filmmakers to be a redeeming moment for Sadness and Joy. I felt less resolved, though. The film still hasn’t given Sadness a purpose except as a foil to Joy. This is a harmful dichotomy for a lot of reasons, one of which we actually see play out in the film when Riley’s mother asks her to be happy about the move for her father’s sake. The end result being that Riley internalizes her negative emotions about her family’s move (with help from Joy) until she detaches from her family completely, almost running away from home. It isn’t until Riley is permitted to feel sadness that she is able to synthesize all of the feelings she has and move on from them. That’s an important lesson for us all, but the filmmakers failed to represent it as such. Instead, we are shown that Joy fights Sadness almost to the point of obliterating them both (certainly to the point of obliterating several of Riley’s internal mental structures, memories, and processes), only to finally acquiesce to Sadness’ presence, while still failing to validate Sadness’ reason for being.

In real life (read: in all of our lives) sadness actually serves a very important purpose. Though not highly valued in our current culture, sadness and other “feel-bad” emotions help us to slow down, confront troublesome circumstances, and come to a deeper understanding of ourselves. Sadness improves your memory, heightens your better judgment, increases your motivation to enact positive changes in your life, and can, in some cases, improve your interpersonal communication. Perhaps this is why, in the film, Riley’s mother has Sadness in the driver’s seat — Sadness isn’t just about feeling blue, it’s about feeling, period. Sadness allows us the increased capacity for compassion, discernment, and responsible decision-making that makes life fruitful.

To say that Inside Out was entirely upside-down wouldn’t be fair. It’s a cute movie, it was well-animated, and it is definitely a powerful tool to give children access to the language needed to talk candidly about their feelings. But as a representation of the depth and breadth of the emotional landscape within each of us, it falls short, particularly in the eyes of this gal living with bipolar disorder.

Someday, when she is old enough to have this conversation, I will have to sit my daughter down and explain to her that Mommy’s brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s brain. I may even need to have a conversation with her, in some distant future, about how her brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s brain. This film does not give us an appropriate schema for that conversation. After all, what good does it do to tell someone besieged by sadness to “let Joy takeover”? That would not be helpful, and it would not be fair to disrespect their experience so callously. Instead, we might say, “Sadness in taking the wheel right now, because it’s a road you need to travel.”

I put a spell on you

I am always trying to become more of who I am. That is, trying to make my outsides match my insides. Compartmentalization doesn’t really work for me — I just start feeling like I’m starving one area of life while barely sustaining the others. I’m a much happier person when I allow myself to live all aspects of myself simultaneously and without shame.

The aspect that has most frequently been pushed to the wayside is my spiritual side. My psychic side. I am a believer in the truest sense, but I have dabbled in my practice over the years, having surges of interest followed by valleys of inaction. I’m trying now to undo that pattern and integrate my beliefs into my daily life. To that end, following the classes I have taken with her, I have accepted an internship with Sarah Chamberlain to help mentor other Seekers and support the development of my own practice.

What will this mean?  I will attend Ms. Chamberlain’s classes as a mentor while continuing to learn from her example. So far she has already taught me to embrace my intuition and psychic gifts, read tea leaves, and I’ve increased my knowledge of Tarot and pendulum use. I also recently expanded my knowledge of palmistry. My repertoire is really growing!

imageimageimage

 

I’m also continuing to learn more about Astrology and how to create and read charts.

imageThe reason I’m writing about this on The Real Sarah C is two-fold: one, I’m really excited, and two, I’m quite nervous! I’ve done Tarot readings and palm readings for friends for many years, but always privately. I’ve never come out in public and introduced myself as a psychic — I’m still not comfortable with the term and it feels hokey to refer to myself in that way. But I recognize the power of self-identification as part of the pathway to self-actualization. Five years ago, I was similarly abashed to refer to myself as an interpreter, and I had to force myself to do it. Now, that’s what I do for a living and I couldn’t be more thrilled. So I’m going ahead and start calling myself a psychic — maybe not the kind you see in movies or on TV, but still a sensitive, intuitive individual, able to use the tools of the trade effectively and successfully. I am taking this step, announcing myself and my intentions to my friends and the Universe, in order to make my visions a reality. And I really am thrilled to find my life so full and so rewarding.

image

Life is crazy.

Shit has been so blindingly real recently that I’ve been swept away on a current of this-must-be-done-now, this-needed-to-get-done-yesterday, and oh-shit-the-baby-has-poop-crawling-up-her-back. In addition to bouncing between tasks like a gormless rabbit with ADHD, my car was towed on Saturday morning, ultimately robbing me of the precious time I had set aside to sit down and write for my poor, neglected blog.

Poor, poor blog. I’m sowwy.

This guy was especially disappointed.
This guy was especially disappointed.

So, what have I been doing to keep myself so exorbitantly busy, aside from overtime, being a momma, and the usual run around? I’m SO GLAD YOU ASKED!

Well, I found this cross-stitch pattern online while searching for more Totoro-themed things to add to the munchkin’s nursery:

Yeah, he's cute, but does he look a little... I don't know... stoned, to you?
Yeah, he’s cute, but does he look a little… I don’t know… stoned, to you?

Now, I know how to cross-stitch, and I’m actually pretty good at it, if I do say-so myself. The problem, however, is that for cross-stitch to be a useful craft, if kind of requires that you also be handy with a sewing machine, too, or else you just end up with a lot of framed cross-stitched patterns on your walls and that’s not a decor theme that I’m willing to submit to.

No bueno.
Good for some, but it ain’t my style.

So I looked at the pattern, and the general dimensions and I thought, “Well, I crochet. The pattern is in squares. Granny squares!” I opened up an Excel sheet and came up with this:

D'AWWW
D’AWWW

Next came planning the structure and build of the afghan. This pattern hadn’t been intended for crochet, so I needed to know how many squares in each color, how large the squares would measure, how large the afghan would measure once assembled, etc. etc. I really need to go back and make up with all of my various teachers from primary school through high school because this stuff was MATH.

So. Much. Math.
So. Much. Math.

In the end, I figured out that motif squares, measuring about 2 inches square, will give me a blanket of about 85″x97.5″ for a grand total of 1,155 squares, not including some decorative notions like stars in the night sky and flowers and leaves on the grass by Totoro’s feet. I’m super-stoked about this blanket, but it’s definitely the most ambitious thing I have ever attempted. Prayers and words of encouragement would be welcome.

By the by, if any of you would like to use this pattern, you are most welcome to do so. I’ll include the specifics in another post once it’s all done, but below is the pattern for the motif squares. Contact me if you want the Excel spreadsheet of the Totoro image.

Since I will likely continue to be on hiatus for long stretches of time this month, I invite you to come find me on Instagram, showing you #HawaiiIRL, or on Twitter and tumblr, where I share daily words of (mostly other people’s) wisdom, art, and advice. And fandom. Oooh, do I get into the fandoms…

Just keepin' it real, y'all.
Just keepin’ it real, y’all.

Crochet pattern for itty-bitty granny squares, otherwise known by the less-adorable name “motif” squares.

As far as I’m aware, these can be done with any size hook. I am currently working with a size H hook, which makes a square that is about 2 inches wide and across.

Round one: make a magic ring, chain two, work 11 dc into magic ring.

Round two: 1 dc into 1st stitch, 5 dc in 2nd stitch to make the first corner. Make 1 dc in the next two stitches, followed by 5 dc in the next stitch (2nd corner). Repeat twice more for corners 3 and 4.

Slip stitch into the top of the beginning of the chains to tie off.

Ta-da!
Ta-da!

Baby Daddy

Last night I live-tweeted the 1987 film Three Men and a Baby starring Tom Selleck, Ted Danson, and Steve Guttenburg. Why I decided to spam my delightful Twitter followers and Facebook friends with my irreverent commentary on this TNT Classic Movie favorite is up for debate. Wine may or may not have been involved. I admit nothing.

Honestly, who needs wine to get them to spend 90 minutes with that face? The baby is pretty cute, too.
Honestly, who needs wine to get them to spend 90 minutes with that face? The baby is pretty cute, too.

Something that occurred to me about this movie (other than it was directed by Leonard Nimoy — No way!!) is that it actually represented a fairly progressive view of child rearing for the time. Twice in the film, female characters close to the main men — the girlfriend of one, the mother of another — are called upon to take care of the child, due to the apparent ineptitude of the father and his roommates. Tom Selleck’s character’s sometimes-girlfriend shows up at his apartment, takes a look at the kid, and when he begs for her help, she says, “What, just because I’m a woman, I’m supposed to know what to do with a baby?”

“Well, yeah!” says Tom Selleck’s mustache, grumpily. At which point, she pats him kindly on the arm, reminds him that she is not obligated to help him in anyway, tells him to man-up, and then GTFOs. Good for her.

Later, Ted Danson tries to convince his mother to take the child into her care, preying on her grandmotherly instincts. She acquiesces that she would love to take the baby (Can I also mention here that never is his mother shown to be bent out of shape over her son producing a child out of wedlock, or knowing nothing of that child until she is left on his doorstep. Progressive!) but she’s not going to, because sometimes all it takes to make a good man out of a screw-up is a dose of baby-daddy: “You were a screw-up. Now you’re a father. And you will be a fine father.” I think that’s a message that more new dads need to hear.

Is it just me, or are the themes in this film (excluding the slap-stick “hide the heroin” routine) grossly underrepresented in recent family comedies? I don’t recall seeing any “unlikely father figure toughs it out on his own with a baby and becomes a good father” stories recently. There are always mothers — the baby’s or the father’s own — coming to the rescue. And that’s the best case scenario. Worse case, the father’s potentially harmful blunders are played for laughs until the child’s care is relinquished to someone with greater expertise (I’m looking at you, Daddy Day Care).

Dads just don’t get enough credit. Maybe he was a screw-up, maybe he does make mistakes, but he’s still a good dad. Let’s put his story on screen.

D.I.Y. Redhead

Tips for completing an at-home, do-it-yourself, dye job.

You will need: A box of Blue Light Special, discount hair dye in Red #44, a comb, rubber gloves, and a towel that you don’t mind staining.

Upon successful completion of this project you will:

– look as if you are bleeding from a massive blunt force trauma to the skull and/or lacerations to your upper extremities.

– have imbued your home with the intoxicating aroma of cheap chemicals.

– have an unexpected, wholly new color scheme in your bathroom.

– have an uncontrollable urge to take absurd selfies.

Ready? Let’s begin!

Step One: Make sure your children are either in bed or out of the house. This may cost you either sleep and/or the favor of your spouse.

Step Two: Assemble your tools. Clothing optional (saves on the amount of clean up afterwards and eliminates the possibility of introducing stray globs of hair dye into your next batch of laundry). Put in your contacts — ain’t no way you’re getting this done in glasses.

Step Three: Adjourn to the bathroom. Follow the instructions on the box. Carefully.

Step Four: Realize that you mixed Tube # 1 into Bottle #3 instead of Bottle #2. Quickly transfer the contents of Bottle #3 into Bottle #2. Clean up the ensuing spill and scrape the excess off the counter and into Bottle #2. Realize you forgot to put on rubber gloves.

Step Five: Wash hands vigorously before they are permanently stained orange. Finish mixing the contents of Tube #1 and Bottle #3 into Bottle #2. Apply gloves.

Step Six: Apply mixture to the roots of your hair, evenly distributing the mixture from root to tip. Avoid contact with the skin and eyes.

Step Seven: Fail to avoid contact with your skin and/or eyes.

Step Eight: Immediately develop an itch in the corner of your right eye. Locate the gloved finger that appears to have not yet come in contact with dye and scratch. Realize you were wrong about the dye.

Step Nine: Finish applying the dye to your remaining hair with one eye shut.

Step Ten: Pass a comb through your hair to ensure the dye is evenly distributed. Pile your hair on top of your head and set a timer for 30 minutes.

Begin the frantic race against time to remove errant dye from your ears, neck, forehead, cheeks, arms, wrists, shoulders and various bathroom fixtures.

Step Eleven: Fail.

Remember the dye-encrusted comb that you left beside the sink. Retrieve and give a rinse. Give up, and dispose of comb.

Step Twelve: As you begin to accept the new color scheme of your bathroom, prepare to hop in the shower to rinse out the dye.

Pro-tip:  “shampoo” your hair with the dye as you hold your head beneath the running water, ensuring that the dye is thoroughly incorporated through out your roots as well as beneath your fingernails. Make sure you have color-safe conditioner at the ready.

Step Thirteen: Realize you don’t own any color-safe conditioner. Realize also that the hot water is off. Run downstairs to wash your hair in the kitchen sink until the water runs clear.

Step Fourteen: Develop a terrible crick in your neck from having your head bent over into the sink. Realize the water will never run clear.

Step Fifteen: Towel dry, then blow dry and style as desired. Or, if in the case you are tackling this project at 11pm at night, go to bed with wet hair to avoid waking your slumbering child. Sleep on old towels to avoid staining your bedding.

Step Sixteen: (optional) Take a bunch of selfies.

Go ahead, play around in photoshop. You've earned it!
Go ahead, play around in photoshop. You’ve earned it!

 

Moira’s Neighbor Totoro

From my other blog, The Gamer Widow’s High Tea Society: Moira’s Neighbor Totoro

In other news, my month-long hiatus from Facebook is nearly finished. It’s been an interesting experience. In restricting my access, I realized just how much time I have spent surfing the social networking site (read: too damn much) and how much stress and anxiety is caused by participating in Facebook’s social politics (read: you can’t fix stupid, but you can watch it in action everyday on Facebook!). I think this experience will strongly influence how I use Facebook in the future.

Finally, for my round-up of stuff I did this week: I experimented with putting my hair in rollers.

First time out, not too shabby. But still, I really have no idea what I’m doing.

Parenthetically, it should be noted that I don't really know how to do the whole "selfie" thing.
Parenthetically, it should be noted that I don’t really know how to do the whole “selfie” thing.

We also celebrated M’s fifth month of being alive. She’s now sitting up, babbling, and teething in earnest. But I think the best thing is that the cat has finally started treating her like a member of the family, rather than some slightly frightening alien creature.

2014-04-23 19.08.59
She is now bigger than Totoro — my, how the time flies.
2014-04-24 06.34.04
“I claim this tiny human in the name of King Kitty.”

 

Mary’s Little Star

And now, to begin the “Stuff Sarah Does” portion of my blog:

Mary’s Twinkle, Twinkle Baby Sprinkle

In honor of my good friend’s second daughter, due this Spring, we threw a shindig at my house. It’s the first time I’ve ever organized and hosted a shower or gathering that wasn’t entirely informal. I made things with my bare hands. All in all, I’m calling it a wild success.

2014-03-26 10.54.59

2014-03-26 11.00.00
We had your standard games and baby-shower activities, plus one that I invented to match the theme: “Name That Constellation”.

2014-03-26 11.10.03

That bottle that you see there is one of those “patience glitter bottles” that have become so popular on Pinterest. God bless my fellow Pinners, by the way. Without their inspiration, I think this party would have been a little droll.

2014-03-26 11.06.14
One of our activities for the adults and the kiddies alike: affirmation flags for Mary to have with her during her labor and delivery.

2014-03-26 12.47.292014-03-26 12.44.58
Hand-made nursery art and favors, care of yours truly.

I’m proud of what I was able to do for my friend, and grateful for all the help I had along the way to make her day special. I don’t think I’ll become a professional party planner any time soon, but on this occasion, it was rather fulfilling.