a fixer-upper

I have picked up what might seem like rather strange  hobby for a new 30-year-old. I tell myself it's not that weird because I know other people like to do the same thing. However, I may only be kidding myself, and maybe I am quite strange after all. Either way, I am totally excited and just need to share.

When I was around 10 years old, I asked for a dollhouse for Christmas. I'm not talking about a barbie dollhouse; I'm talking about the wooden kind that comes in a kit and you put it together, paint it, add carpet & wallpaper & little miniature furniture. My parents obliged that Christmas. They bought me a dollhouse kit that I would put together with my dad. They also bought me a few beautiful pieces of furniture. Well, my dad & I never put the kit together and then I left home, got married, and so on. I think the kit eventually was given away. I have always kept the mini furniture in hopes I would one day again be able to have a dollhouse.

As my 30th birthday approached, I thought I needed some kind of project to do... something for me... so I thought about it and decided I wanted a dollhouse. Undortunately, the price of dollhouse kits has skyrocketed in the past 20 years so I opted to buy a used one. I found one online for a great price, which also included oodles of furniture. This house is a fixer-upper. It needs to be repainted and needs some fixing up inside. Doors need hinges, floors need carpets, and walls need paint. So, this year I will start working on those basics, and worry about the rest of the furniture later.

I'm so excited about this that I seriously don't want to do anything else with my extra time. So, here is a picture of my gorgeous dollhouse. I don't know what color/s I will paint it, but it won't be the same by the time I finish.

And, here is the inside: 10 rooms and lots of furniture to boot.

Maybe I'll throw in a couple pictures along the way as I fix it up. I'm excited! Happy 30th birthday to me!

perspective

So, our foster kids will most likely be gone by the end of December. This is fine and we knew it was coming. In fact, they are now with their parents more than they are with us. So, this means my life is a bit easier now. I still have to drive them around all the time, but home life isn't as hectic. The other day I started thinking about them leaving for good. I have just gotten so used to seeing their little faces around my house. I've gotten used to their smiles, their laughs, their preferences, their messes.

Most assuredly, I have gotten used to having a baby around. I have really grown to love Little Miss B. She is just such a darling baby. I wish I could post a picture of her for you to see. I adore her the way I adored Megan as a baby. I love most everything about her. I find myself whispering sweet nothings into her ears. At night, when I put her to bed, I tell her I want her to be my baby forever. I tell her it's not fair that I love her and have to give her back. I tell her to tell Heavenly Father that she should be my baby (even though I know I shouldn't say that). I ask her if she wants to be mine, and then she smiles at me, or laughs. And I hold her close because I won't be able to hold her much longer. Then she'll be gone and I'll most likely never hold her again. I don't want to let her go, but I have to.

So, I found myself grieving for this child that isn't even mine, that I haven't even lost yet. I guess it stems back to the fact that a part of me still aches to bare my own children. Granted, I've told myself a zillion times that I'm over it and that it doesn't matter. After all, it is absolutely true that we never would have found Megan had our lives not set us in this direction. And we wouldn't give up Megan for 15 biological children, and that's the honest truth. But still...

this is not the path we chose. We did not choose to be infertile. Sure, we chose to adopt because we wanted to be parents, but we would rather have had our own (and it would have been a thousand times easier, I think). Now we are foster parents. People put us on a pedastal for doing this. Thing is, we don't do foster care because we're "good people". We do it because we have to. We do it because I can't ever get pregnant and we need more kids and we don't feel right going more into debt to adopt more children. So, you see, foster care is not the path we chose. I would go so far as to say this foster care thing is not the path I want. I don't want to have to raise other people's children that come to us with their own issues. I don't want to deal with the problems. I don't want to deal with the hassle. I don't want to deal with having to love children, and then have them leave and never see them again. I just don't want to do it. But, we do it because we don't have a choice. We need more children and this is the only feasible way to do it.

So anyway, I was getting down on myself, you know, the "why me" statements. The look at so-and-so who pops out children like they're popcorn comparisons. The why can she get pregnant when she obviously shouldn't, but yet I can't when I obviously should be able to resentment. Basically, the life's not fair and I got the short end of the stick, depressing thoughts.

I hate it when I think this way. Thinking this way does not make me feel better. Wishing to have something I don't have never makes me feel better. So, instead, I tried something else. I got on the internet and started looking at a friend's blog who lost a baby last year. Her blog led me to many other blogs, with stories of grief and pain from lost children. So then I just started feeling grateful instead.

I'm grateful that Megan is healthy and happy. I'm grateful for a loving husband who has supported me emotionally when many men would shudder away. I'm grateful for my warm home. I'm grateful for my piano. I'm grateful that I have music in my life. I'm grateful that Jared is such an amazing dad. I'm grateful for the good family I came from, and for the good family I married into. I'm grateful for good friends, I'm grateful for the beautiful mountains across the street. I'm grateful that foster care is available for people like us. I'm most grateful for my Savior. I'm grateful that He knows me and helps me. I am grateful to know that my family can be together for all eternity; that life does not end at death. I am grateful to know that my Heavenly Father loves me and has given me every tool I need to return to Him some day.

With so many things to be grateful for, I find it hard to feel sorry for myself. I really have countless blessings. I truly am happy with my life. When I look at life in this perspective, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm a mom

I feel like I have nothing exciting to blog about any more. And if I blog I have to take pictures, too. I have not been taking pictures. I guess I have been too busy to think about what to blog about. If you ask me what I'm busy doing I couldn't tell you. I guess I'm just busy being a mom.

Making bottles, cleaning up spitup, changing nasty diapers. Giving the baby a bath right in the middle of lunch when she's vomited all over herself, for the third time in two days for no apparent reason. Making lunch, whipping up a snack here and there, making dinner. Cleaning up the high chairs 5 times a day. Cleaning up after dinner. Putting kids to bed. Cleaning up more after the kids go to bed. Going to the store. Taking the kids to the doctor. Making sure the house is somewhat tidy. Driving the foster kids to and from visits. Going to the park when it's actually nice outdise. Getting a daily chore done. Putting up the Christmas Tree. Saying "no" way too often. Cutting coupons. Kissing boo-boo's. Breaking up toddler fights. Ignoring tantrums. Sitting on the couch for 30 seconds. And then back up again. I feel like I'm working 100% of the time but have nothing to show for it. In fact, the house is usually messier at the end of the day than at the beginning- even though I've been working at it all day. Yes, I'm home all day, but it's not like I'm relaxing. Maybe a 20-minute show on Netflix while I do the dishes if all the kids are asleep at the same time. But that's it. Well, I guess you could count a few minutes on the toilet. That's my quality "me" time.

So anyway, I do nothing all day. But, no, that's not true. I do plenty all day. I'm a mom.

foster pictures

So, there is this rule in foster care that you can't post any pictures anywhere online of your foster kids. I definitely understand this rule; part of protecting children is protecting their online identity, and you have to be more careful about... everything... with foster children. I totally get it. It makes sense and I agree with the rule. The only thing is: it's just slightly annoying.

You see, I take pictures fairly often. I conveniently keep our camera on the piano so that I can snap pictures of the kids whenever they're doing something cute. The only problem is that, nowadays, Megan does many of her "cute" things with her foster siblings. This creates a problem. Instead of just grabbing the camera and snapping a quick picture, I have to move around the children in such a way as to not get T or B in the shot- just in case the picture ends up on my blog.

Then, I go a step further. I decide that it's okay to have a picture of T's back or a picture of B's foot... because, hey, they can't be identified by that. So, then I try to get a picture of Megan with a foster child in the background. After all, I'm blogging about our life and I want pictures of those kids, even if it is just of their pinky toe.

Furthermore, you see, I have all these bloggy plans to post cute pictures of Megan with B's elbow, or pictures of Megan and T's forehead, and then I never even post them. I am just wasting time trying to snap the right kind of pictures. It's just plain silly.

Cases in point:

Back in August I snapped this picture, which was to show that sometimes Megan and T actually do get along:

... and in the same post I was going to explain that the only way we can get them to eat without being a bad example to each other is to sit their high chairs in the following fashion:

Oh, and if you look closely in the following picture, you can see T's little hand in the left bottom corner. I was going to talk about the first round of Flu that went around the house, and that this picture was taken just minutes before Megan barfed all over this pretty new dress from Grandma.

I was also going to use the following picture to show how sweet Megan can be with the baby (though I admit this one almost crosses the line with the amount of baby-face-showing-ness):

Using this next picture, I was going to discuss how grateful I am for our van and that Megan and T have a grand old time sitting in the back together, taking off their shoes and singing songs... and falling asleep after all that fun:

In this picture below, I was going to talk about how, at Megan's birthday party, when I gave the kids stickers and crayons, little T (you can see his sleeve and his ear on the left) was the first one to stick a sticker on his nose. Then, Kienan & Megan followed suit. Oh yeah, I was also going to talk about Megan's birtday party (at which we danced, colored, built stacks of blocks & knocked them down, and danced some more):

And, lastly, I had plans to write a post about this cute little pumpkin patch here in our town. We took the kids about a month ago and they loved playing in the corn pit. (Now that you're a pro at finding pictures of T's various body parts, can you find him in these pictures?):

Now that you've seen a post full of backwards and half-shown children, I'm sure you're a little annoyed, too. It sure would be nice if you could see their cute little faces! Oh well... I suppose you'll just have to drop by for a visit, then.

bona fide Halloween

As you might remember, my wonderful, older & wiser sister Jazz-Frazz-Razz-Ma-Taz-Alcatraz, a.k.a. "Jasmin," lives in a little country off the coast of Saudi Arabia called Bahrain. She and her family have lived there for about a year now.

My mother recently traveled to visit her, and while there, picked up a beautiful outfit for Megan. I think I remember my mother saying it is supposed to be an "Arabian Princess" outfit. It is something that a little girl in Bahrain might buy to wear as clothing- not as a costume. Additionally, the scarf was bought in India several years ago by my father.

However, living in the United States, a bona fide Arabian outfit quickly becomes a Halloween costume.

One look at our Megan in this outfit and my heart pitter-pats:



She's just so darn beautiful and adorable and cute and I still can hardly believe she's mine.



Here's a picture of Megan & her cousin (we coudn't find his football helmet but I'm sure it would have been super cute).



And, here is a picture of Megan & her friend Evie at our church Halloween party. (Evie was Toto from the Wizard of Oz). These two girls just make me smile.



When all is said and done- when the children have trick-or-treated and all the hype is gone- I do feel a bit guilty. I feel guilty that we dressed the kids up, taught them how to trick-or-treat, filled their buckets up with candy, and then put them straight to bed. We then proceeded to hide any evidence that Halloween ever existed, including their buckets and candy. I feel bad that they don't get to eat their candy, but, hey, I'm sure they'll make up for it in years to come.

in which I like BYU, steal a friend's phrase & brag about my skills

I have never been a very confident person. I think all women are that way. We know we're good people. We can list all of our good qualities and we think we're pretty average and that's just dandy. But, then there is a list a mile longer which includes all of our faults. It lists every quality we want to have, and listed next to each quality is the name of a perfect friend who does have that quality. Then we think about it and feel bad again.  If you're a woman then you understand. And, if you're a man you are probably not reading my blog anyway.

But that's not what I am supposed to be blogging about.

Once upon a time (10 years ago-ish) I was a student at BYU. I was actually quite lucky in the matter. BYU was the only school I even applied for, and I only ever wanted to major in Music, which is what I did- and never changed my major. But, on the other hand, that Music Major did just as much harm for my self-esteem as it did good.

When I got into the music program at BYU I was pretty excited because I definitely was not the best voice in the program. Nevertheless, I somehow convinced the right person to let me in. The majority of the vocal faculty didn't like me. They often told me I wasn't good enough and they made me feel like the dirt underneath the dirt. In fact, when I left BYU, one of the faculty members told me I shouldn't be able to even graduate because I was such a bad singer. He said that if he heard me singing in church and then found out I was a BYU vocal grad he would think less of the BYU vocal program. That comment still hurts me to this day. I know I'm not that bad. (Actually, I have gotten much better at singing since college. It's amazing how much more you can excel at something when you're not judged on it). In fact, oodles more people have told me I'm great than have told me I'm bad. I think that nutty professor must have been PMS-ing when he told me I was awful. I never want to see that man again. If I do, I will hide. And then I will shoot him with a bb gun.

But that's not what I'm supposed to be blogging about, either.

I'm supposed to be blogging about the fact that I like BYU. Which I do!!! I loooooove BYU! I definitely have blue blood and I'm very proud of my alma mater. I had a great education!

And now I will praise the Music Department. Though I had a less-than-stellar experience as mentioned above, the BYU music program was awesome for my musicianship. This is where I will brag about myself-------> Because of BYU, I have a really great foundation of music theory and I am quite good at it. Also, I was a really good elementary music teacher for 3 years after college, having learned my skills from BYU. And lastly, I have some mad sightreading skills. I know my do re mi's better than I know my own mother. I hear solfedge (do re mi's) when I listen to songs on the radio. I can look at almost any piece of music and sing it for you because I have such mad skills. Seriously. I don't like to brag, but I really am pretty darn good at it. And now you might think I'm a pompous brat. And that's okay. Because I'm not.

So.... why do I bring this up (and after 4 neverending paragraphs?)? I bring it up because it is something I actually excel in and something that makes me happy. My musical skills help me find solace in a world full of strife and heartache. You see, I joined this incredible community choir called the Mapleton Chorale. And it has been so wonderful. (Props to my husband for letting me leave him for 3 hours every Thursday night!) My soul has really needed a musical outelt, and I am so glad that I have one. This choir is a lot of work. We have to memorize a new piece of music every week which is not an easy task for a busy mom. However, my mad sightreading skills really help me accomplish that goal (see it all coming full-circle?). Also, because of my mad sightreading skills, I get asked to sing different musical parts all the time in choir, because the director knows I can read anything. It makes me feel really happy. It makes me feel like I still have some skills besides changing 11 poopy diapers in one day. It makes me feel like I didn't just throw my expensive education out the window; I am still using my education!

So... maybe there was really no point to this post after all. I just felt like venting about my BYU experience and also felt like saying how happy I am that my BYU experience led me to be able to enjoy my musicality again. Church choir just wasn't cutting it. Now I get to be in a choir with an amazing conductor and we get to sing beautiful, inspiring, faithful music which warms my soul.

So, thanks, BYU.

(oh, and the phrase I stole is the phrase "in which I..." in the title of my post. My lovely girl friend over at Pensievity pretty much owns that phrase, and I should probably be sending her a check for $600 just for borrowing it).

life thoughts

I really wish I could show you all pictures of our little foster kids. Seriously, they are so cute and funny. Especially the baby. It's so easy to fall in love with a baby, and this one is just so darn stinkin' cute. She's got these buggy eyes that are always wide open,and she smiles like nothing I've ever seen. Her head is ginormous. The sounds she makes when she's eating, her weird grunt and her gibberish. She's so sweet and cuddly and always has the funniest look on her face. And her laugh? And the way she kicks when she takes a bath? Oh man, I don't want to give her up.

The boy, he's a cutie, too. Granted, I have found it harder to love him but I think that's because he's older and already has habits that drive me crazy. And he whines all day long. But, when he's happy he is SUCH a cutie. He's got a precious little smile and he's such a sweetheart. Every night when I put him to bed, when I'm hugging him and singing to him, I just want him to feel loved. He always wants hugs, and wants food even more. We surely would keep him, too, if that were an option (which it is not).

I wonder how these two kids got so unlucky. It just makes me so sad that they have the life that they do. To them, I'm sure it's normal, because they're not old enough yet to know that they don't deserve the junk they've been through. Living at our house, then being at their parents' house, then back to our house, and all these random adults. Who's who? Who is really mom? Who is really dad? Why do I stay with these people and then go stay with these other people? Why do I have different rules in this house than I have in the other house?

Well, maybe they're not thinking that hard, but I still feel sorry for them. Why were they given the circumstances they were given? It really bothers me sometimes. Megan was born into poverty, but then given to us to have a more comfortable life. Lucky Megan! Meanwhile, little T & B are born to a mother & father who... without divulging too much information... should not be able to parent them. Yes, little T & B will be going home soon. What's up with that? It's just not fair to them. They should be in a loving home with parents who are capable and will keep them safe. I can only hope that their parents will be better parents than they were before. But I have no control over that. It just kills me that these sweet, innocent, little children of God have no choice in the matter.

Oh, blah. I just wonder sometimes why some of us seem so blessed in life, and others seem so unfortunate. What did I do to be born into a wonderful family, to have the Gospel in my life, to live in the USA, to have a great husband, to have a comfortable home, to be able to go out to dinner every once in a while? And why are others born into poverty? I need to be more grateful for what I have, and I need to pray for those who don't. Usually I just don't think about these things, though. When I think too hard I just get sad.

I especially will be praying for these children and for their parents. I just hope they can all be happy and healthy when they return home.

And then we will move on.

The Many Faces of Megan

A few weeks ago Megan was in a goofy mood, so I snapped a few cute pics. And, please excuse the state of her hair. It was morning and I hadn't done it yet. Enjoy!

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Headwear

Sometimes it is hard to do Megan's hair in the morning. Often she will not sit still for me. Luckily, there is an easy fix. It may get me stares in the supermarket or at church, but at least it covers up her nappy hair.

Just call her Diaperhead.

No, I don't really let her wear diapers on her head in public, but I totally would if it were socially acceptable.

2-year photos

A few weeks ago Megan had her 2-year photo shoot. My friend, over at capturedmomentsbytami, took these adorable pictures just 5 days before she gave birth to her own little girl. Double brownie points to Tami!

I look at these pictures- the full head of hair, the hair clips, the big girl shoes, the purse in tow- and I realize that my baby isn't such a baby any more. She has turned into a vivacious, assertive, sweet, spunky, and funny little girl.  Not to mention that she's she most beautiful child that ever walked the face of the earth...

Here are some of my favorites.

A close-up of her sweet face.

Here Megan is with her prop of choice: a purse.

We tried to get Megan to pose with her hands. At least it made for some funny pictures.

In the following picture she looks like she is posing, but she actually just has her hand down her diaper.

I love this next one because it shows a little bit of sass:

Now, for my favorite picture of all. It is the essence of our cute little Megan.

We love our little girl so much and we feel so blessed to have her forever.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Megan!

anguish and joy

One year ago I blogged about the events of the previous year. In particular, flying out to Virginia to love on a baby boy which we didn't get to take home with us. But, if you know our story, then you also know that this baby boy was not the first baby we were supposed to take home with us. In fact, he was our fourth. (Read the story here if you desire).

Honestly, these days I don't think about those four children too often. I guess it's just that I don't have time. But, part of me wants to think of these four children. At a moment in time, I strongly felt that each one was ours. Of course, I know that this brokenhearted road led us to Megan, and that without all our heartbreaks we would have never found her. But... I still wonder. They are all turning 2 or have recently turned two. I wonder if they are such a ball of fire as our Megan. I wonder if I would love them as much, if they would end up having such stunning looks, and such a delightful personality as our Megan. I wonder, if we had any of those other children, if they would melt my heart the way Megan does.

Sometimes I think I should just get over it. I mean, it's the past, right? I know that we needed those experiences to help us find Megan, and I know that Megan is meant to be in our family. However, when I think of all the pain we went through to find her, my heart starts beating and the tears start rolling. Maybe I am not crying for those lost children; maybe I am crying because I remember the pain. Oh, the pain was awful. I don't like to think about it. I don't even know why I am bringing this up. Maybe I just feel like crying today.

Anyway, so it's been two years now since were were in Virginia. It was in Virginia that we lost one little boy, but heard the news that we would gain a little girl. And, that little girl was Megan. The Agency was saving Megan for a family that had been through a lot, and we became that family. I am just so grateful that we went through all of that anguish because it led us to Megan. All of that anguish is something I need to remember. In the moments when I am fed up with Megan's antics, I need to remember how special she is. When she is hitting her foster brother or getting into mischief I need to remember how much we wanted her. When she falls on the floor in a fit of rage, screaming because I won't let her color on the wall, I need to take a moment to remember.

I remember waiting in the hospital parking lot for hours, wondering if this was really going to happen. I remember sitting in the back of the car on the way home, looking at my beautiful child, not believing she was mine. I remember her little newborn sounds. I remember lying next to her on the floor, telling her I was her mommy. I remember the instant love that flooded over me when I first held her. I remember going to church and bawling my eyes out in front of the congregation, so thrilled to finally be a parent. I remember writing up my first blog post about Megan. I remember the sleepless nights where I slept on the floor of her room. I remember being so tired, but so happily tired because it meant I was her mother. I remember the newness of it all. I remember the excitement, the generosity of others, the kisses with which I smothered her body. I remember how tiny she was on the changing table.

Now things have changed. Megan will be two in a few weeks and she is full of spunk, personality, and rebellion. The hugs have depleted, the kisses are fewer, but the love has grown tremendously. Life has changed so much in the past two years, and it will continue to change for years to come. I don't know how many children we will foster, and/or how many children we will adopt. I don't know how many years it will take, and I don't know why things are the way they are. Every child we adopt is based on another person's agency. We have no control over anything. All we can do is trust in the Lord, and that's our goal. If we do that, we will be taken care of and we will receive whatever children the Lord has in store for us. The future is daunting. I am just so happy to have Megan as a constant child in my life. I know that sounds strange, but as a foster parent it doesn't seem strange to me at all.

Megan is ours and always will be. And that's the way I like it.

10 randoms

Here are 10 random pictures in no particular order that I would have liked to possibly blog about in more detail. Unfortunately, all you're gonna get instead are pictures and a few words.

#1: For the first month after getting our foster children I almost entirely neglected Megan's hair. This was the most I could do with it, but, obviously, Megan is too young to care.



#2: This is Megan in her cute Sunday dress (bright colors look SOOOOO good on her)-- just before she barfed all over it.



#3: When I finally got around to doing her hair again I tried out this 'do and I was really happy with it.



#4: Here is Megan in a good mood.



#5: Megan thinks that having a diaper on her head makes a really neat hat.

#6: We went to a picnic with hundreds of other kids who have been adopted through our agency. Megan had a blast. (I must admit, I wanted to jump out there myself. Oh, to be a kid again...)



#7: Cousin Oriana came to visit. Here she is with Megan and cousin Kienan.

#8: This would be a picture of Megan holding her little cousin Henry... or a picture of my sister, Jasmin, and I. She flew out here with her youngest son to see me for a few days before she headed back to Bahrain. I can't believe we didn't take any pictures! Boo!

#9: Now that we have a baby in the house Megan likes to do baby things. Sometimes cute; sometimes not-so-cute.



#10: Why are children always so cute when they're asleep...? (note: I love our Swagger Wagon. It rocks.)



That's it. Toldya it was random. Adios.

not enough time

There are so many things I have wanted to blog about lately. Problem is: I just have no time. Between these three little tykes, church work and the new choir I joined (yes! I joined a community choir and it is sooooo great) I'm lucky to have a few hours with my husband every week.

Unfortunately, blogging has become a things of the past.

Some of the things I wanted to blog about are:

How AMAZING Jared has been. Seriously, I wanted to dedicate a blog post just for this foster dad. He isn't just super dad; he's holy-cow-the-most-awesome-incredible-super-dad-in-the-entire-universe.

How happy I am that my husband supports my music enough to let me join a choir and be away from the family just a little bit more... while he picks up the slack.

How nice it is to finally have a musical outlet for singing.

How life is getting easier now with all the kids, but they are leaving in a month. Ugh.

My sister coming to visit me for a few days.

How darn cute these kids are.

Funny things about Megan.

... other stuff I can't think about now.

Children are awake so I must be going. At least I had five minutes to blog.

Awful Waffle

In case you are wondering what will happen if you forget to change out the waffle-maker-plates for the chicken-cooking-plates on your George Foreman, here you have it:

Strangely enough, this chicken was actually quite delicious.

a Tale of Two Toddlers

Once Upon A Time, in the Roberts Kingdom, young Prince T joined the Castle de Megan. Despite her intense cuteness and sweet nature, Princess Megan became a meanie-head.

Princess Megan did not like the new prince. Prince T used her toys, ate her snacks, stole her bedroom chamber, and took the attention of her King & Queen.

The prince and princess both wanted reign in the kindgom. Both wanted the toys. Both desired the snacks. Both wanted undivided attention from the King & Queen. Consequently, chaos erupted.

This chaos forced the King & Queen to take drastic measures in the cookery.  The prince and princess could not be seated in view of each other, as this would ensue screaming and jealousy, so the young royalty was seated as evidenced below:

This screaming and jeaousy continued most every day, all day. There were special moments, however, when the prince and princess actually got along, as shown below.

And, these were the moments the King & Queen lived for.

3 weeks with 3 kids

As a lot of you know, our house has been busy lately.

Without going into too many details, we ended up taking in a couple foster children 3 weeks ago. In addition to our own little fireball, we have a little boy, "T", who is 20 months old, and his little sister, "B," who is 5 months old. Yep, that's 3 children under the age of 2. Sufficeth to say, we have our hands full...

...which would explain why I haven't blogged in a while.

To be honest, the first week and a half I shed many tears. Many. tears. Tears for me (because I was having a difficult time handling it all), tears for Megan (because she no longer had us to herself and was having a hard time), and tears for the new children in our home (for many, many reasons). My tears have since subsided, but I certainly do have moments where I want to hide in the basement until my husband gets home from work.

It has been quite an adjustement for me as a mother. I always knew that the day could come when my life would change. I always knew that one day I would go from a mother of one, to a mother or 3 or 4- without any notice. What I didn't always know was how hard it would be. I have struggled with many things, but it is getting easier as time goes on. And, as I'm sure happens with many other foster parents, by the time I get down a routine and actually enjoy every moment- the kids'll go home. But that's what foster care is all about: kids going home.

So, for a while, my husband and I will love 3 children instead of one. We now have 3 mouths to feed, 3 bodies to bathe, and 3 messes to clean up. But, more importantly, we have 3 children to hug, 3 minds to inspire, and 3 souls to love.

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frustrating chocolate addiction

The first step to getting over an addiction is admitting your problem. I will freely admit that I am a chocolate addict. However, I don't want to get rid of this healthy addiction. The chocolate I'm addicted to is the sweet yumminess that is my child.


She is such a delicious chocolate and I cannot seem to get enough. I just want to hug her and squeeze her and kiss her all day long. I love her so much that I want more chocolate. More. Give me more. One sweet piece of chocolate is wonderful, but two pieces of chocolate would be even better.


Every time I see a chocolate baby on television I just want to grab through the screen and give that baby hugs. I can't stand those commericals where they show malnourished little African children and ask us to send money. When I think of the 150,000,000 orphans in the world I am sick to my stomach.



Can I have some of those orphans? Will someone send me just one? Give me another little chocolate baby. I want some more sweetness.


What happened to the days when you could just go to an orphanage, pick out a baby or two, and be on your way? Things are so complicated these days. It's either pay thousands upon thousands of dollars to buy a new baby, or wait months and months to be foster parents and maybe adopt through that-- if you're lucky. Geez. Talk about jumping through hoops.


I just want to go to the chocolate baby store and pick me out some more delicious chocolate.


If you find a store like that, please let me know. For now I will enjoy the sweet, beautiful chocolate that I have. What a perfect little morsel she is.
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I'm probably jealous of you

If you are currently growing a garden, I'm probaby jealous of you.

My garden has always been special to me. I suppose it is because I used it for therapy and treated it as my baby until we were able to be parents. My garden always made me happy because I would take good care of it and it would grow like crazy. Not to mention, I love all the fresh veggies!

This year, I apparently have no garden-parenting skills. I haven't been neglectful, but I certainly haven't carressed it. By this time of year my garden is usually huge, as evidenced by the picture below from last year at this time:

But, instead, I have this:

Maybe it doesn't look too bad, but compared to my typically thriving garden, this year has been a complete failure. I haven't yet been able to harvest anything. I have a few small, green tomatoes growing but that is all.

I had big plans for my garden this year. I was going to learn how to can salsa and I even was going to grow the onions and the peppers myself. Now I suppose I will probably be buying my salsa for the next year instead.

I am so sad.

I am blaming this failure on the insanely cold weather and all the rain we had after I planted. But, I can't help feeling bummed about it.

On the bright side, if this is all I'm bummed about then I've got it pretty good!

my Beautiful in orange

It's been a while since I've posted and so now I'm playing catch-up. Back in June we had some family come in town. One day we went to a park in the canyon and I got some cute pictures.

This first one is Megan & Uncle Tyler on the pole. I'm not quite sure what the poles are supposed to be for, but apparently they are for climbing. Megan tried many times to climb up the pole, but, even though she is a little monkey, she just could not do it.

Uncle Tyler was later moving the poles around the ground and Megan was upset that she could not move them, too. This picture was taken after I had Megan settle for just sitting on the bottom of the pole:


Sweet cousin Elise is so good & sweet with Megan. She is wise beyond her years and very patient with the little ones:

And, lastly, this picture is Pure Megan: outside with a stick in her mouth.

And, I have to say- doesn't Megan look stunning in orange?

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a girl and the vacuum

Megan always hides the moment I get out the vacuum:

She picks a spot and does not move until I come to get her and tell her I'm done vacuuming. Once in a while she will find herself in a comfortable position and this is what happens, along with a loud snore:

There was a loud vacuum machine
and a girl who was scared of the thing.
On the floor she would hide
and some tears she'd provide
but be sleeping 'fore the floor was clean.

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