Like sister, like brother

Siblings are supposed to have things in common, right?

Megan and Wesley are a far cry from looking the same. I'll be the first to admit they share no blood. But, we do need some kind of claim on them as siblings. My claim is that they were born with the same cheeks.

Seriously. Look at the picture of Megan's cheeks as a baby, and then the picture of Wesley's cheeks. Both of them had/have cheeks that bulge out from their face. Granted, lots of babies have chuuby cheeks. But still.

And you should be jealous, because big cheeks equal kissable cheeks.

So, there you have it. Like sister, like brother. Uncanny! (kind of....)
________________________________________________________________

baby Wesley

Hello, blog world! It's me again. It's been a very long time, but now I have something to say.

See that picture above? And all the pictures below? Yeah, that's our son, Wesley! I am not kidding. I know what you are thinking... How? When? What the...... ? I will attempt to answer your questions quickly. Quickly- mostly because I have to go hold my boy in about 3 seconds because I haven't held him all day and it is killing me.

 So, on with the story. Abbreviated version.

 If you want more information, keep checking my blog. I'm sure I will post more details later.

 On April 3rd of this year, Jared's sister, who lives in Phoenix, contacted us because she knew someone who knew someone who knew someone that needed a family to take her baby. Of course, we said yes, even though we knew these things never happen.

 Keep in mind, we were not looking to adopt privately. We had been chilling with our little family and were enjoying being foster parents. We didn't think we would EVER adopt privately again.

 Anyway, the following Friday, April 6, Jenny (Jared's sister) calls me back and gives me a little info on birth mom. I call birth mom and we decide to get on the computer to Skype. It is really awkward. She says she thinks she is due in about 3 weeks.

 I freak out a little bit.

 Jared & I have strong feelings that we should go ahead with this adoption, even though it is so fast and crazy and doesn't seem like it could possibly happen. We hire a lawyer. I keep Skyping with birth mom. I'm amazed at how every thing is coming together so easily. Seems too good to be true. We find out it's a boy. We shout hooray! We pick out a name. We wait.

 I keep in contact with birth mom. Jenny goes to every appointment with her. We still feel good about things. We make plans for me to fly down to Phoenix so birth mom can be induced. Plans change when birth mom goes into labor early Saturday morning, May 5th. I pack bags and head to Phoenix. Jared stays home to work and take care of the othe three kids.

 Baby is born. We name him after his great grandfather and also his daddy. We name him Wesley Jared. He is so handsome and adorable. Just look at the cuteness of this boy.

 I am still in Phoenix. Wesley is currently in the NICU but we are hoping he will be out within the next week or so. He will be fine; his little body just needs to figure out a few things before he can be released from the hospital.

 The good news is that we were able to sign adoption papers yesterday (Wednesday, May 9th)! That means that little Wesley is now officially our son and there's nothing can change it. It's a done deal. We are so happy! SO HAPPY! Obviously.

 We can't wait until Wesley is out of the hospital so that we can be together as a family. It's kind of hard being far away from each other in such a crucial and exciting and fragile time. Luckily we both have support around us. Feel free to send any prayers in our direction. Sweet little Wesley needs to get better so he can come home. Thanks for reading. Enjoy the pictures of our cute little son!

___________________________________________________________________

Here we go again

Just when I thought I might actually become a current member of the Blogosphere again, our life changes.

Yesterday we received a call for another foster care placement. Tomorrow (Thursday, March 1st) we'll have another couple children in our home. We'll have a 5 year old girl and a 2 year old boy. I'm nervous but I'm sure it will all be fine. I'll be out of commission for a while so don't expect any more posts for at least a few weeks.

I know, you're just so depressed about that.

:)

random February pictures

I obviously have not been as faithful at blog posting as I have been in the past. I think this is due in part to the fact that I don't take as many pictures any more. Also, I've been working on painting my doll house in the evenings instead of blogging. (No, I'm not ready to show any new pics of the doll house...)

Here are a few pictures I did manage to take this month.

This is Megan with one of her favorite toys: play-dough. I really hate the mess it makes, so at first, I was trying to make her keep it all on a plate, as seen in the following picture. I have since decided that keeping all your play-dough on a plate is completely lame and un-kid-like. Now I let her use the table. In the picture below, Megan is showing off her prized play-dough items of the day: a banana, cereal, & pizza. Notice her cheesy smile? That's the only smile we are getting nowadays.

In this next photo you might think Megan looks like a mermaid. No, she didn't grow a fin; she just has a dress on. Let me explain: Megan adores dresses. She would wear them every day if I would let her. Well, Megan's Nana gave her this little ballerina dress and she wore it all day at Nana's house. When we came home the dress was dirty, so I threw it in the laundry basket. I made sure Megan was not looking when I did this, because I knew she would be upset. I also completely covered it up with other clothing, so that, in the off-chance she looked in the basket, she would not see the dress. Well, the next morning I was in the basement exercizing. I came back upstairs and she had that little dress wedged up her body just as you see below. It was so funny to me. I still have no idea how she thought to go up to the laundry room and dig through the laundry basket to find her dress, but I suppose that love finds a way! And, dresses are definitely one of her loves. What a silly goose.

Utah has such strange winters lately. This year we haven't had much snow at all. I think we've only had two snowstorms (maybe 3) with a few inches each. I have tried to give Megan the opportunity to go play in the snow whenever possible. It's silly, though. She doesn't usually get down and play too much because she'd rather have her hands in her pockets than anywhere else... but that's beside the point. I went outside with Megan one day and we made her first snow man! She was obsessed with Frosty the Snowman all throught the Holidays, but didn't seem as excited about actually making one. I think next time we will make a smaller one- one that is more her size. Nevertheless, here she is with the snowman. I think it's funny to look at the snowman's face... it looks very worried.

This last picture is of Megan with one of her favorite friends: her cousin Kienan. We get them together at least every week for a playdate and they have become quite good friends.  It is so adorable to watch them play together and laugh and actually get along! The other day, at their playdate, they both were given a snack. Without a word, they were up on the couch, sitting close together, eating their snacks. So cute!

And that's it! This is the 4 different times I took pictures this month. Pretty pitiful, considering the fact that we took over 500 pictures in Megan's first week of life!

_____________________________________________________________________

Doing daddy's hair

Megan comes up with all sorts of excuses to try and not go to bed. I seriously don't understand how little kids can be so darn smart. Anyway, the other week Megan came up with something new. She crawled up on daddy's lap with her doll's hairbrush and started brushing his hair. It was pretty cute. I have a video of it, too, but it's kind of a boring video so I'm not going to post it.

She was also using a spray bottle from her cleaning set to "wet" his hair before she brushed it (but it's not in the pictures). We just love our little hairdresser!

________________________________________________________________________

Megan's vocal debut

Megan is much like me. She bursts out into song several times a day for no apparent reason. She sings because she likes to sing and it makes her happy. The only thing that differs from me is that Megan is so uninhibited that she will sing at the top of her lungs in the grocery store.

The morning we started potty-training, Megan was especially happy for some reason. She started off the day eating her beloved pancakes and drinking juice. Maybe it was the juice that was making her so happy (because I never give her juice), but, whatever the reason, I got out the camera and she showed off her singing cuteness.

Jingle Bells is Megan's favorite song lately. She sings it all day long and requests it every time she takes a nap or goes to bed for the night. It's now a little out of season, but who cares?

Later that day, on the potty, Megan started singing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." This video isn't quite as cute as the first but I still love it.

... and that's enough to embarrass Megan for decades to come.

_________________________________________________________________________

Since November

I took a bird's-eye view of my blog the other day. I realized it was just... a LOT of words. I haven't even posted a picture of Megan since November. November! I'm sorry, folks. Here I am yappity-yappin' my big-mouthed words, and I'm not even giving you what you want.

(because I know that what you want is pictures of Megan...)

So here are a bunch of cute pictures from the last couple months for those of you who want them:

---------------------------------------------

This is Megan with my mom, "Grandma", who taught Megan how to say "yyyyyyyyeeeeeesssssssss!"

Megan likes to pretend she is putting on mascara (I wonder where she got that from?)

I love this picture: Megan in my shoes, a purse, and a camera. Just like mommy.

(Oh, and T's arm. He wanted the camera...)

Megan loved this snowman from Grandma. We had to sing Frosty the Snowman to her at bed time for several weeks.

Megan got to be an angel on Christmas Eve for the family Nativity. She was obviously thrilled, as evidenced in the picture...

I absolutely love the following picture of Megan and her cousin on Christmas Day:

One of Megan's favorite Christmas gifts was a cleaning set.

Why not teach her while she's young?

I always forget to take pictures of Evie and Megan. This time I remembered.

(note to Evie's mom: feel free to steal this pic off my blog)

That's it, folks! I hope to upload a couple of videos of Megan soon.

__________________________________________________________________________

maybe I'm the only one

Am I the only one that wants to look older? Seriously, I just want to appear my age. I have always looked younger than I am for some reason. I don't know if it's because I'm so short, or because I'm still holding onto [all of] my baby fat, or if I act young and immature, of if maybe I should just get a hair cut. Whatever the reason, I've always been so annoyed that people think I'm younger than I really am.

When I was college it was, "oh, so are you with a high school group visiting the campus?". Or "You're not honestly getting married, are you? Aren't you still in high school?" When I was teaching it was, "you're the teacher? I thought you were a student (in an elementary school)." Now it's, "so, how long you been married? A year or two?" (Try eight).

Everyone always told me, "you'll like to look younger... when you're older." Bah. Hum. Bug. I'm older now. (ok, maybe you still think I'm still a spring chicken, but I honestly am older than I was before). By the time you are 30 you should be happy when someone thinks you're 23, right? Not me.

Am I the only one?

I would be thrilled if someone guessed my age correctly. I've always wanted to stop at one of those "Guess Your Age" booths at the amusement park. I am sure I could win all the stuffed animals there. At least then maybe I'd feel like something good came out of my silly predicament.

When we got married, I thought, oh, we'll just have kids and then people will know we've been married at least that long plus a year or so; then they'll know how old I really am!...  ha ha! That plan failed dramatically.

Now I have a vibrant two-year old. So, what do people automatically assume? That I am 21 or 22. Because that's how old all Mormon girls are when their first child is two.

WRONG! Obviously. On so many levels. Really.

I'm not really sure what I was trying to accomplish by writing this post. Maybe the Great Age Wizard will come give me some wrinkles in my sleep. Or maybe tomorrow I will wake up 100 years old and wish I looked 30. But, then again, when I am 100 years old, I probably will look 30....

too much cool

My awesome husband got me a smartphone for Christmas. Now I'm cool. I know how to throw stuff at fake birds with my finger. I can cut a virtual rope to feed candy to a monster. I can play word games with my friends. I can check Facebook in about 2 seconds. I can text to my heart's content. So if I go MIA, it's because I'm now too cool for the blogosphere... at least until my phone is no longer a novelty. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I need to go find my phone.

to have loved and lost

I am not crying today, though I think I probably should be.

This morning I gathered all of T & B's things- their clothes, toys, blankies & barf rags- and dropped it all off at their parents' house. I went inside the house and gave baby B some long hugs & kisses (though she seemed much more interested in all of the toys I had just brought over) and I gave little T hugs & kisses, too. If you asked me 3 months ago if I loved these children I would have said, "I'm not really attached, so, no." But now? I do surely love them. And I miss them. Just a little.

Don't get me wrong; it is really nice to just be us again. Life will be less stressful now. But, at the same time, it is kind of strange that I won't be picking them up to have them at our house any more. It's okay, though. I know that they are where they need to be. I know that their parents have tried very hard and are doing their best, and as far as I can tell, the children will be well taken care of and they will be safe.

It's funny. We have loved lots of children, but have only ever gotten to keep Megan. I loved all of those babies we were supposed to adopt before Megan. I remember loving all 4 of them (even though we only ever met one). I remember that with each one, I felt intense pain as we lost them. Before adoption, when we were trying to have our own children, I felt love for the children I thought we would have. (I don't really know how that works since we obviously never had any to begin with... but I felt love still the same.) And now these children, T & B, that we so recently gave back, I loved them too. I really did. I do have to say, though, that none of that love is as great as what I feel for Megan. Hands down, the love I have for her trumps all other love I have ever felt for any other child. But still...

I've had all this love, for all these children, and I most likely don't get to see any of them again.  If I think about it too much it could sure take a toll on me. However, I have seen the strength and life lessons that have come to me from each kind of love, and from each experience.  

Our family life is certainly not what we envisioned, but we are so grateful for the way things have turned out thus far. I don't know the reasons for most of what goes on with my life; I just know to trust in my Heavenly Father and I know that He will lead us to children that are supposed to be with us. The thing I do know is that there is a plan for us. It is not all random. I know that our calling as parents is different, but it is still good. I am grateful for the knowlege I have that I can be with my family forever; that all of the struggles and heartache and pain we go through to find our family will be worth it, because we can be with them forever. I wish everyone else knew that, too.

Anyway... I guess that's it for now.

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!

_______________________________________________________________________

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!