I think I officially bit off more purple-frosted birthday cake than I can chew this week. Abby turned 3 this week...and I do mean this week. It was party after party and I officially want to poop any more parties. I'm tired! As you will see, I started out the week fresh as a daisy...I made her a bunny cake, expertly wrapped her presents, and took pictures of her opening each gift at her extended family party....

By the time the immediate family party rolled around (which included Red Robin and Build-A-Bear), I was still strong...But I met my match in the form of 11 awesome little kids at her official first friends party. Abby wanted a bunny party...so of course that means I had to make royal icing bunnies, search high and low for bunny projects and bunny decorations (by the way, may I pass on my sage advise for any future parent of a 3-year-old...they do NOT care about your Martha-Stewart-Level attempts at theme cohesion). I didn't even get any pictures of her great party because I was too busy sweating with the labor of that level of song and dance. I did, however, get pictures of the aftermath. I should have gotten a picture of what I discovered this morning while I was picking up...someone frosted my ottoman!! And they did a pretty good job. Nice even coating with sprinkles! I'll enjoy that little treat soon. Happy Birthday Abigail!

Dear Abigail,
It’s Sunday night and I’m thinking over the weekend that we shared together. You are very young and as you grow, you may not remember how delightful you have always been. I want to let you know all about it. Very early Saturday morning your dad woke you and took you to go get your very first donut and to change the brakes in our car. The report back was that you did an excellent job helping your dad change the brakes. He told me you got a screw driver and shoved it into just about every nook and cranny you can find on the underbelly of a Toyota Highlander. As for the donut, it was blueberry cake from Duncan Donuts (which happens to be your father’s favorite…you however, were less enthused…you’ve always been more of a chocolate girl).
After the brakes, you came home all covered in car grease. I washed you up, fed you some lunch, and you and I ran errands. We went to buy plastic sandwich bags. We had a lengthy debate between whether I should buy the cheapest or I should buy the environmentally friendly brand…you convinced me to go green! You always make me a better person. We went and rented a movie for you and I to watch together while dad studies for the Bar exam. You’ve been a trooper through all of his time away.
For helping me with my errands, your reward was a pack of gum. You shared a piece with the entire family and saved some for all of your cousins in Utah. We then picked up your dad to go to dinner. At the restaurant, you ate clam chowder and insisted on buttering your own bread. Outside of the restaurant, there was live music. You danced for everyone and it was beautiful. You took off your shoes and danced some more. You danced until your feet were blacker than I thought feet could be. Then, in your frenzy of fun, you picked up a rock…tossed it in the air…and it landed on a man eating an ice cream cone. You hid yourself in my lap until he was gone.
Today in church, the person giving their talk in sacrament meeting mentioned that they had gone to BYU. You did my heart proud when you then LOUDLY gave a cheer: “BYU COUGARS!” You then contented yourself to eat an apple for the rest of the talk…only to have it fall out of your hands, roll three pews in front of us, and the remainder was finished by a hungry little boy who’s mother didn’t seem to mind her son eating a foreign, unknown apple.
Dad had a headache after church. You got out your lotion and rubbed his neck with it. After, you told him that he would feel better if you danced for him. You put on a lovely concert of both dancing and singing. And sure enough…dad felt better. We went to dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s. You picked the flowers out of their back yard and gave them to your dad. We came home, you were bathed…loved…we read you books…said our prayers…and you went to sleep with a pair of My Little Pony underpants on your head.
You told me this weekend that you wanted to live inside the television with Sid the Science Kid (which is a show you like to watch). I said that I would be sad if you left. You told me I could put a new baby in my tummy and that I would be fine…Abigail, a thousand babies could come out of this tummy and I would never be fine. I fall asleep at night remembering everything you do during a day. I warm myself with thoughts of times to come with you and your father. I love you, my little slice of pie (and yes, I actually do call you that).
Your Mother,
Jamie

This is what I get for taking too long doing my on-line banking...

A little help with the dishes...Dial Foaming Anti-Bacterial Hand Soap. My pots have never shined so!

And of course she got herself ready for the day. What a responsible child! (That lipstick was Bobby Brown, too! Curse my $20 impulse buy!)

So I've done it...I've cut off all my hair. No, I have not gone through a bad break up. No, I haven't joined any type of questionable organization...and, no, I'm not a lesbian (sorry ladies!). It actually came about as I was looking through all of our photos to use for facebook and this blog...and I realized that without fail, unless it was a staged studio shot...my hair was in a pony tail. In my mind I had Bella Swan hair...long, flowing, enviable locks...I had a constant breeze from no where flitting through my coif. Oh Blindness, Thy Name Art Jamie.

I'm posting some before and afters...I'm not sure I'm sold on the look yet, and I do feel a bit lost without my pony tail. In fact, I'm still wearing an elastic band around my wrist...what will I do with my 3,000 of them?!