A Jammin' Good Time

The rumor is true. That is, only if you heard the rumor that I made ten gallons of strawberry jam yesterday. (I can't give all the credit to myself. I went to my mother-in-law's house to make it, and everyone there helped me).

I used 24 pints of strawberries, 10 lb of sugar, & just the right amount of Ultra Gel.

Total Cost: ~$38.

That's less than 50 cents/pint.

Can't beat that at the grocery store!
_____________________________________________________

Here's little Megan next to the 10 gallons of jam... just so you can see how much it is in relation to her. (Who am I kidding? This picture is just an excuse to show off Megan's cuteness).


Plus- not to toot my own horn (though it's Mary's recipe... I'm actually tooting her horn), this is the best strawberry jam this side of the Mississippi. You might think your recipe is good, but this one is better. Yep. That's right. This jam is best, hands down.

If you don't beleieve me, come over for a piece of toast.

BombDiggityDaddy

I can't seem to take care of our daughter at church. If she's awake, I can't keep her quiet. If it's time for a nap, I can't get her to sleep. Luckily, Megan as BombDiggityDaddy for a father. BombDiggityDaddy has some major know-how when it comes to taking care of Megan at church. He knows how to help her sleep- and how to keep her asleep. BombDiggityDaddy knows how to keep Megan quiet & happy.

If I could sew, I'd make Jared a costume that said "BombDiggityDaddy," complete with a cape.

I always go to church an hour early for choir, and BombDiggityDaddy wakes up Megan from her nap, gets her all dressed up, and brings her to church. Half the time he has to give her a bath, too. After sacrament meeting, BombDiggityDaddy even has to walk around the building to make sure all the classes have teachers, and he takes Megan along for the ride. Then, he takes care of her all through church without ever bothering me, and brings her back home. To top it off, BombDiggityDaddy is always happy after church & smiling when I come home.

I think it's probably because he loves Megan. Oh, and me, too.

I love you, BombDiggityDaddy! Megan loves you, too (she says your name all the time... that's your proof).

Brag Post

Megan is THE BEST baby in the ENTIRE world.

If you don't believe me, here's the proof:

1.) She sleeps from 7pm-7am every night. If she stays up later or wakes up early, she just talks to herself.

2.) She keeps her arms down when we feed her in the high chair.

3.) She plays contently with herself 90% of the time (jumperoo, exersaucer, toys).

4.) She doesn't cry when we put her down to sleep (except very occasionally).

5.) She stays calm and still when we use the nose-sucker to get out her boogers.

6.) She stays calm and still when we use Q-tips to clean out her ears.

7.) We have never had to take her out of sacrament meeting.

8.) Even if she's super-duper tired (like when we were stuck in the Dever Airport for 6 hours, or on our Sealing day when she was awake for 5 hours), she doesn't complain.

9.) She doesn't mind diaper changes.

10.) She likes having her face washed after eating.

So, I'm curious... has anyone out there had a baby that had ALL of these traits at the same time? Really, I want to know if this is normal, or if she really is the best baby in the whole world. I"m sure things could change and she could become a tyrant in a moment, but she's 7.5 months old and she shows no signs of changin'!

Here's to you, our adorable Megan.

How Lucky We Are

I just finished reading a friend's post, and, as a result, was prompted to write this.

My friend, Ashely, had infertility issues. After much reflection and praying, she & her husband decided to try in vitro. It actually worked and they became pregnant with twins! I coudn't contain my excitement for them! It was such a happy ending.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Ashley just found out that their son has a fatal disease called Trisomy 18. You probably have never heard of it, but most of these babies are stillborn, or die shortly after birth. Only 10% of these children will ever reach their first birthday. I can't imagine the pain my friend is feeling right now. They worked so hard to get these babies, and one is most likely not going to live. In addition, they also have to worry about their twin girl, because if Ashley is forced into early labor because of the boy, it could jeopardize the health of their little girl.

I just.... I am just so thankful. As soon as I read about Ashley's poor son, I wanted to go wake up Megan and love her and hug her and kiss her. We are so lucky! We have had a happy ending. We went through what seemed like h-e-double-hockey-sticks to get her, but she is here and she is perfect. We couldn't have been more blessed. We couldn't be more lucky. I think of the sweet spirit asleep in her bedroom upstairs, and I start to tear up.

So, yes, we are lucky to have Megan. We are so blessed. Not only do we have her- which is a miracle in itself- but she is, as perfectly as anyone can tell, completely healthy. How lucky we are. She is the most beautiful child we've ever seen. How lucky we are. We get to be her parents. How lucky we are.

Truly, how lucky we are.

Pure Nastiness

This morning I was hoping Megan would choose to sleep in. Unfortunately, she had different ideas. I heard her babbling early in the morning, but I let her talk to herself as usual (because I refuse to get her out of bed before 7:00). She played the "I'm so cute" card, with her kicks of happiness and smiles of love when she saw me. It wasn't until I picked her up that I noticed what she had been doing. Unbeknownst to me, she had been having a poop party in her bed. I don't know how many other babies helped her out, but boy was it NASTY! It's a good thing she's adorable, because she covered her entire back and half her legs with poo.

It was gross. So gross.

I Think of Her

I have waited seven Mother's Days for this Mother's Day. For so many years, Mother's Day was a cruel reminder that I could not have children. It was a reminder that I was inferior to all mothers, because I could not be one. It was a reminder that something was wrong with me and that I was a failure. It reminded me that yet another year had passed, and I was not a mother. I would go to church and see all the mothers with their children. I would see all the girls who were pregnant, who had been married only a few months. I would sit through lessons and testimonies on motherhood and how special it is to be a mother, and my heart would be tearing up inside. I was reminded of all the children around the world who are treated unfairly, and of all the mothers who do not take sufficient care of their children. I was reminded how unfair it all was. I would say I didn't care, but, of course, I did.

At church, on previous Mother's Days, all the "mothers" would get a flower, or some kind of gift or treat. I always took the gift because it was expected of me. I took the gift because if I really said, "I am not a mother. I don't deserve one because I'm useless," people would be taken aback by my sick sense of self. If I really let my feelings show, people would try and make me feel better. I didn't want to feel better. I only wanted to boil in my own pot of self-pity. And boil I did.

Obviously, this Mother's Day is a new, bright Mother's Day. It will be one of joy, and one I have looked forward to for many years. As happy as I am, I do know that there is another woman out there who loves Megan, too.

Megan's birthmother surely will feel some pain on Mother's Day. I am not in contact with her and do not know how her feelings stand about the adoption. However, I have to assume that she still thinks about Megan every day, because I'm sure I would were I in her situation. Birthmom carried Megan in her womb; I carry Megan in my arms. Birthmom took care of Megan's tiny, helpless body; I take care of her growing body. Birthmom fed her with adorable genes; I feed her with love and affection. I cannot forget what Birthmom did for us. There are approximately 1.5 million abortions every year in the United States (yes, it makes me sick, too), and Birthmom was a strong woman to carry Megan to full-term. I am lucky that she is one of the (unfortunately, too few) people who believe in the sanctity of life. I will never forget her. I will be grateful to her forever, and I don't care what anyone has to say about that.

I wonder what Birthmom will do come Sunday. Will she look at the photo books of Megan we have sent her? Will she read the letters we have sent her every month? Will she have any regrets? Will she cry? Will she rejoice? Or, will she try not to think about it? As nerve-wracking as it would be, I sometimes wish I could speak to her. We never got to meet her, and I would like her to know how much I appreciate what she did for Megan, and for us. I can only say so much in a letter, and with every letter, the things I say must sound redundant. I just want her to know that I think of her, especially at this tender time. I want her to know that I care. I want her to know, above all, that the child she carried is happy and healthy and well taken-care of. I want her to know that I hope she finds joy. I hope things go right for her in her life, and that she will feel blessed. I want her to know she made the right choice for Megan. So here's to you, Catherine, and all other birthmothers out there. Know we love you.

Dear Catherine, I think of you this Mother's Day.

Eternity

This past Friday, April 30th, Jared & I were sealed to Megan in the Provo Temple. For the past 6 months, whenever I would think about her being sealed to us, I would have to wipe away the tears. My eyes did not fail me on Friday. I had to work really hard not to cry like a baby (no pun intended... well, actually, it was intended). I did cry many tears of joy. I really couldn't help it.

It was a very special experience. We didn't invite a lot of people; mostly just immediate family and a few close friends. I would love to elaborate on how I felt and what it all means to me, but it is too precious to share on a public website. What I will and can say, though, is that Megan looked so beautiful. She was perfect. When she was brought into the room, she truly was our angel. She looked at Jared & I the whole time, back & forth. It was as if she knew exactly what was going on. What a special day.

And, of course, how could this be a complete blog post without a bunch of pictures? Enjoy...

Little Megan in her Temple dress. She was ridiculously tired by the time we got outside to take pictures, but she never complained. She's such a trooper!

Adoring our Eternity.

Here we changed in to some matching green clothes. (I was hoping it would be warm and Spring-y, but it was cold and windy).

One more.

Unfortunately, we forgot to round everyone together for a picture after the Sealing. But, thanks to those of you who came to share in our special day. And, in case you were wondering, I didn't include any pictures with the Temple background because I look fat in all of them, ha ha. But, it's the truth.

Thanks to Ann Marie for taking all the photos! You're so great!

Just for Fun

For my mom's birthday she wanted family pictures. Here's what we gave her, just for fun.

And, yes, we also gave her the "real" picture.

Nursery Rhyme Murderer, Installment 2

In a previous post, called Ode to Lacey's Song Skills, I showed the world my sister's lack of nursery rhyme skills. Granted, it's been probably 17 years since anyone has read them to her, and she only had one younger sibling with whom to repeat them. Maybe that can be her excuse. She's just hilarious.

This weekend she was over, sitting on the coffee table, repeating more nursery rhymes (again, this will be more fun for you to read if you sing along):

"This old man, he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb. With a knick-knack, paddy whack, give a dog a bone. This old dog came rolling home."

(Me): Wait, Lacey. It's This old man...

Oh, okay. So, "this old man went rolling"... no, "this old man ran rolling", no... what?

(Me): This old man came rolling home....

Right. "This old man, he played five, he played knick-knack on my spine."

(Me): Lacey!! It's "He played five, he played on my hive! You crazy girl!"

Then I asked her to sing more for me (for the purposes of this post, of course). Here were some of her other recollections:

1. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard looking for curds and whey.

2. Little Miss Muffin sat on a tuffin... oh, wait. Dang. How does that go?

3. (Take 1) Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the frog and the spoon.

4. (Take 2) Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. When he got there the cupoard was bare.

The only one she got right was, of course, not a real nursery rhyme. It was the "Cat's in the Cradle" song:

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon.

Little boy blue and the man on the moon.

When you coming home dad? I don't know when.

But we'll get together then.

You know we'll have a good time then.

Yes, Lacey, We'll have a good time then. That is, when you finally learn your nursery rhymes. Though, I must admit, the hilarious-ness of your lack of nursery rhyme-ness makes for some really silly blog-ness.