a very merry birthday party

Merry Christmas!

If you read my blog post last night you're probably wondering if Kate got her flute. At the mall Santa told her he would see what he could do. Luckily he was able to make it happen on such short notice. Kate was delighted to find a purple "flute" in her stocking this morning.

One of our presents to Kate was one of my old make up bags filled with glittery and pink make up and brushes from the dollar store. Kate was thrilled but the jury is still out on whether or not this was a good idea.

Sam had no idea it was Christmas this morning. He kept his usual routine of drinking milk from a bottle and crawling around looking for trouble. However, this morning he and Kate had a new set of wooden blocks from their grandma and grandpa all the way over in Argentina.

Sam's first order of business was to polish off the remaining cookie crumbs and Diet Coke we left for Santa the night before.  He also tried to eat the reindeer carrot.

Kate's big present from us was a Buzz Lightyear bike with a bumblebee helmet. At first she was a little apprehensive about making the switch from tricycle to big girl bike but once she got the hang of it, she was a pro. She kept telling us it was "so easy."

After opening presents we had a big Christmas breakfast of crescent rolls, scrambled eggs, bacon, and oranges. I felt like some sort of breakfast warrior putting this feast on the table. I had forgotten about Christmas breakfast until late last night and made the bold choice to brave the lines at Walgreens to try and forage for ingredients.

After breakfast and a wonderful Skype call with Dave's family we packed up the car and headed over to my parents' house for Christmas dinner, more presents, and a pair of special Christmas guests!  Kate really wanted to wear her new Elsa costume and I braided her hair like George Bailey's youngest daughter from It's a Wonderful Life.

One of Katelyn's favorite presents was a stuffed Peppa Pig doll.  A few weeks ago my mom and I were wandering around the Walmart toy department with the kids when Kate found this stuffed Peppa doll.  They bonded immediately and when it was time to leave, there was a tearful goodbye.  Kate very carefully nestled Peppa into an endcap display of toys and promised to "visit Peppa soon."  Well, this was just too much sadness for my mom and so she had me distract Kate while she secretly bought that exact Peppa doll right then and there.  Needless to say, the reunion of these two besties did not disappoint.

This year Katelyn has gotten really excited about birthdays. She loves a good celebration even if it isn't for her and she has found a reason to say or sing Happy Birthday nearly every day this year.

When we started talking about Christmas, we explained to her that we have parties and open presents and celebrate together because Christmas is Jesus's birthday. Kate was so excited about having a birthday party on Christmas day!  We even had a birthday cake.

After the birthday song was sung, the candles blown out, the piles of wrapping paper swept away, the babies bathed and tucked into their beds, the grown ups sat down to play Scattergories.  We had so much fun just sitting around talking and playing games and I laughed so hard I cried more than once.

At the end of the night, Dave and I had to borrow my mom's car to haul everything home.  The kids rode with Dave in their car seats so I drove alone listening to the last of the Christmas music on the radio. It almost felt overwhelming how happy I was and how grateful I felt.  I started to tear up a bit contemplating how blessed I have been.  I was mostly thinking of how much I love my family and how lucky I am to have them in my life.  An entire day of family fun can really bring that to the forefront of your mind.  Then I started thinking about the true meaning of Christmas and what that means to me.  I'm so thankful that many years ago a baby was born who lived and died for all of us.  Because of Him, I can live with my precious family forever.  Because of Him, I can start over again and again and still be forgiven.  Because of Him, there is nothing I will ever have to face on my own.  Because of Him, we all can live again.

And that is the greatest Christmas gift of all.

come listen to a prophet's voice

This weekend was General Conference which is basically one of my favorite times of the year.  Seriously, it is up there with Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my very own birthday.

If you have no clue what I'm talking about (which is totally okay) check out the link above.  My favorite description I've heard is in an article comparing General Conference to a series of TED Talks where the topics are religious and most of the speakers are older.  If you are looking for some amazing inspiration, check it out.

Every time I watch General Conference, there is always at least one talk that seems to be directed completely to me.  It speaks to the issues I am facing and leaves me feeling comforted, uplifted, and motivated to be a better person.

All of the talks I listened to this weekend were wonderful.  They all spoke of eternal truths that I know to be good and right.  But, after the last talk of the last session, I realized that I had not heard that one talk that gripped my soul and left me fighting back tears.

And then I remembered this talk.

Okay, I have been trying to figure out a way to upload or embed this video for like the past hour and a half.  Here's the link.  Link

And I realized that I didn't really get to listen to it.  I spent this twenty minutes of General Conference sitting in the dining room corner with Katelyn who was in a time out.  I didn't really hear much over the sounds of a time out tantrum.

So I watched it online tonight.  And this was the talk that was meant for me.  This was the message that I really, really needed to hear.

I have to explain that there really isn't anything going that wrong in my life.  If you listen to this message, you might wonder, "What trial is she going through that she needed to hear this?"  The embarrassing thing is I am not currently going through any major or newsworthy trials.  But I have been sad.  I've been sad for the past few weeks and I just don't know why.  I've spent hours out of every one of the last several days trying to dissect my life and current situation to figure out why I am sad.

This is what I needed to hear.

I'm not sad.  I've been ungrateful and that, I think, is worse than sad.  That means I have some serious work to do.  I sat on my living room couch watching this talk and cried tears of shame and guilt and hope and joy.  After it ended, I just sat there for a few minutes, finally grateful, especially for my Heavenly Father reminding me how to not be sad.

I have a testimony of the Gospel.  I believe in Jesus Christ and everything He did for me.  I know that my Heavenly Father loves me and answers my prayers.  I know He loves me even when my prayers have become litanies of whiny complaints and my requests for blessings have greatly outnumbered my expressions of gratitude and praise.  I know that happiness is found by being faithful to God and not by a nicer house, a bigger bank account, or more stuff.

I know all these things and I did before today.

But I still needed to hear it again.

don't forget to pray

Week two of the Year of Megan was all about prayer.

I have always been a praying person.  I was taught from a young age to pray several times a day - upon waking up in the morning, before meals, at the end of the night before I went to bed.  I prayed with my siblings.  I prayed with my parents.  I prayed with my family, with Dave, and now, with Kate.

With so much praying, you sometimes run the risk of becoming a little rote in your words.  Often I catch myself saying the same things and getting stale in my communication with God.  I found that my prayers had started to shift from thoughtful orations to a quick task to be accomplished before leaving the house for the day and after getting ready for bed.

But I know that's not how it should be.

So this week, I have really focused on saying meaningful prayers every day.  I made an effort not to rush through them.  I've tried to take the time to say something different than the things I said before.  Occasionally, I said things that were neither thoughts of gratitude or requests of blessings.  Sometimes I just talked.

I feel like I have a better understanding of the purpose of prayer after this week.

First of all, I realized how important the act of praying is merely as a time to quietly reflect on my day, my week, my month, my year, my life.  The first part of praying is expressing appreciation for the things I have.  So many times this week, I found myself enjoying a moment of peace on my knees as I was led to appreciate the wonderful blessings in my life.  This was most apparent after a hard day of complaining and self pity.

Next, I ask Heavenly Father to bless me.  There's something about praying that keeps you from asking for things that aren't' really important.  Prayer has a way of readjusting your life's vision to the things that matter most.  If you listen closely, you might even be prompted to know how to bless yourself by making changes in your mind set or actions.

That leads me to my next discovery about prayer.  I have often wondered why Heavenly Father wants us to pray when He already knows what I'm thinking and need.  I'm sure a large part of the reason is like I mentioned above.  Prayer offers a greater level of self awareness.  After I pray, I am more grateful for the things I already have and more motivated to make necessary changes in my own life.

But I also think that He just wants to hear from us.  I thought of it this way.  I know almost everything there is to know about Katelyn.  I know when she'll zig as opposed to zag.  I can predict a temper tantrum more accurately than a weatherman standing in the middle of a thunderstorm promising a good chance of rain.  She doesn't have to tell me what she needs because I am usually on top of it already.  She also doesn't have to tell me how much she relies on me.  Trust me I know.  Despite my omniscience when it comes to my daughter, I still want to hear from her.  I still want to know what she thinks about the hot dogs she's eating with her macaroni and cheese.  I want her to tell me when she's happy or sad or angry or hurt or excited or scared.  I want to hear from her because I love her.  I want her to talk to me even if I can already guess what she'll say.

I think Heavenly Father feels that way about us.  I think He loves us and wants to hear from us.

This has been such a rewarding week of focusing on prayer.  I'm so grateful for a way to communicate with my Father in Heaven.  I have always had a testimony that He listened and answered.  I feel like that testimony has been strengthened this week.

temple night

So one of the goals for Year of Megan is to visit the temple once a month with Dave.  If you are unfamiliar with what a temple is, check out this link for more information.

Dave and I love going to the temple.  However, we didn't realize how truly spoiled we were living in Utah until we moved here to Houston.  There is one temple in the Houston area and it is one the north side of town.  Like the way north side.  And we live on the south side.

I'm definitely not complaining because I vividly remember all day youth trips in a chartered bus when the only temple in Texas was in Dallas.  Actually, now that I think about it, those trips were super fun.  It was like all of my teenage friends crammed into one space for a wild long bus ride.  As fun as that was though, a temple in Dallas meant very limited trips.

Anyway, when we lived in Utah, there were several temples to choose from.  A trip to the temple meant hopping in the car and driving down the street.  A trip to the Houston temple requires planning and considerable forethought.  I left my house at four this afternoon to drop Katelyn off with my mom and dad and sister.  I made my way to the medical center to pick Dave up from work and then we braved the rush hour northbound traffic.  We finally made it home at eleven.  It was a seven hour event.

And we always get lost.  I don't even understand how it happens every time.  We always either miss an exit or get turned around or don't exit the freeway in time.  It's not even that difficult to find.  Once, we missed the exit on Beltway 8 (a huge freeway that loops around the city).  We didn't even notice that we missed the exit for several miles.  We both kept saying, "This all looks familiar."  It all looked familiar because we had missed the exit long enough to be recognizing landmarks of the way home.  Today's adventure was trying to find a major freeway downtown.  I don't understand how a native to the city and a man who is very good at navigating roads can get so mixed up.

I realize as I type this though that there are faithful members of the church who brave an even more arduous journey to enjoy the blessings of the temple.  There are those who have to save for transportation, endure long and uncomfortable bus rides, or even walk to get to the House of the Lord.  I used to wonder how they could make such sacrifices to get to the temple when they were already going to church on Sunday.

I understand it now.

Despite the long journey, the traffic, and the late night getting home, I'm always glad that we went to the temple.  I think my favorite part is the way that we treat each other when we leave.  It's like we are given a view of the much greater picture and vividly reminded of our purpose, our direction, and our meaning in life.  It's difficult to be short tempered or irritated when you have just felt the Spirit so strongly.

This was like the billionth picture we tried to take outside the temple.  After this one, Dave refused that take any more pictures.  Lol.

Sunday dinner

We prayed over our dinner no less than ten times this evening.  Every time we would conclude one prayer and pick up our forks to take a bite, Katelyn would fold her arms again waiting for someone to pray.

I really didn't think my cooking was so frightening as to need to be blessed so many times.

When you are trying to teach a toddler that we fold our arms, bow our heads, and pray before each meal, how can you resist those chubby little arms crossed over that pudgy little belly?

We took turns praying over our meal and our gratitude.  It is funny to hear the things you start to pray about after the third or fourth prayer.  We were thankful for rain, dogs, potatoes, corn, green beans, and church to name a few.  We were grateful that Katelyn went to the bathroom so many times today.  We asked for blessings that we would all feel better and that we would be nice.

The meal took twice as long with all of the religious interruptions but I absolutely loved it.

lazy sunday

...more like crazy Sunday!

We spent last night at my parents' house which is always really fun.  We stayed up way too late watching Netflix and drinking sodas from the gas station and then woke Kate up just to have a midnight snack.

That sounds like we ate her.

We gave her a midnight snack...

...of milk.

And we didn't intentionally wake her up either.  I went in to check on her and she was just standing there in her crib staring at me.  How was I supposed to not pick her up?

Anyway, we had a wonderful time but woke up feeling tired and out of sorts.  I scrambled to get Kate and myself ready for church.  Of course we ended up having to stop by our apartment on the way to get some essentials.  We made it to church right before the Sacrament and sat out in the foyer with Kate.

Katelyn is wild during church.  This was not unusual today but it is exhausting nonetheless.  She NEVER wants to sit still and church is pretty much all about sitting still.  There are four adults in our family who can care for her in church.  That's a four to one baby - adult ratio but by the end of the three hour block, we are all tired and worn out.  It's a struggle every Sunday but somehow we make it.

Dave is the financial clerk in our ward which is fitting as he is a financial counselor during the week.  This means that he stays for about an hour after church to help count tithing.  This also means that I am faced with the task of getting Kate up the stairs, changed out of her church clothes, fed, cleaned up, and down for her nap.

Today my dad took us home and was kind enough to carry Kate in her car seat up the stairs for me.  She looked like a little Sunday diva sitting in her safety throne.  My dad rarely visits our apartment (because I am at my parents' house nearly everyday) so having "Grampy" in our home was especially entertaining to Kate.  He took her out on the balcony to look for birds for a few minutes and then left to go home, eat lunch, and probably take a nap. (Remember - everyone is exhausted at this point.) Katelyn was so sad to see him go she screamed for five minutes.

I got Kate into her high chair and gave her strawberries and spaghetti squash for lunch and then I went to change and use the restroom.  And then I clogged the toilet.

Which is embarrassing to admit on the internet.

But it wasn't gross or anything!  I just like to use a lot of toilet paper!  Ask anyone I know!  Also, our toilet clogs every day!  It is the cheapest toilet I have ever sat upon!

Anyway, Katelyn was crying so I ran over to see what her problem was.  Soon I heard the sound of running water in the toilet tank.  It was the sound of gross toilet water running over the bowl and onto the floor.  Our bathroom was being flooded.

I thought that only happened in the movies!!!

So, I was kneeling next to the toilet, in a huge puddle or nasty water, trying to shut off the water, when I heard a plop from the kitchen.  Katelyn had rejected the spaghetti squash and dumped on the kitchen floor.  All over the kitchen floor.  Which she thought was hilarious.

I needed to buy some time to finish wrestling the toilet so I gave her a few Oreos to eat for dessert. (I washed my hands like I was scrubbing in for surgery first.)

Finally, I fixed the stubborn toilet and walked into the kitchen to find that Katelyn had crushed the Oreos, dumped out her cup of water, and turned it into some sort of sugary black paint that she was using to paint herself with.

At least it bought me some time, I guess.

This story ends well.  Eventually, Dave came home, I fixed the toilet, we mopped the floor, Katelyn took a bath and a nap, and the afternoon ended with all of us enjoying the cool front and some bubbles out on the balcony.  And each of us in our pajamas.

I guess it turned out to be a lazy Sunday after all.

conferencing

General Conference is this weekend and I have been excited about it for weeks. I'll admit, the idea of watching church on the couch in my pajamas is enticing but that's not it. There's something comforting about the idea of spending the weekend home with my family being spiritually fed.

One of my favorite stories in the Book of Mormon is when King Benjamin gave an address to his people. All of the righteous families gathered together to listen to the prophet and directed their tents to the temple. I used to imagine how great that must have been to feel safe as a family listening to the prophet King Benjamin. Then I realized that I get to do this twice a year.

During General Conference, for two days my home feels even more sacred. Gathered together, I feel like we are protected from the evils and perils of the outside world. I am always sad when the prophet bids us farewell during the Sunday afternoon session.

I also love Saturday evening when D puts on his Sunday best and leaves for Priesthood session. This is partly because he is so handsome and his good looks are always amplified when he wears a suit but also because I know that when he returns, he will bring home wisdom and inspiration that will bless and strengthen our little family.

Another reason I love conference is because, often, they sing my second favorite hymn. I did not fully appreciate the familiar lyrics of How Firm A Foundation until I was older. The best verse is the third. It is unique because it is the only verse of the song (or most hymns for that matter) which is written from the point of view of the Savior. In it, he promises:

"Fear not, I am with thee,
Oh be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand."

For someone who is a chronic worrier, do you have any idea how many times I have been dismayed? I will tell you, it is a lot of times.

On more than one occasion, when my emotions have been gripped with anxiety, my mind occupied with an endless stream of tragic what if scenarios, I have been in a Sunday service, stake conference, or other church meeting and this hymn has been sung. Each time, a thought that was not my own confirmed to me that it was not a coincidence. It was as though the Spirit was tapping on the shoulder of my soul reminding me of the promise the Savior made. And each time, I have been comforted enough to take a breath, put a smile on my face, and carry on.

This hymn is a message from the Savior for anyone having a bad day.

I like to think of my pioneer ancestors with aching backs, bleeding feet, and hearts heavy for loved ones lost, humming this hymn and taking one more step.

I do not face the daunting task the early stalwart saints had to endure. In fact, my blessings outnumber my trials. But on days when the path ahead of me seems dark, the ground beneath me unsteady, and my burdens heavy, this song reminds me that I am not in charge. The Lord will not let me down.

So, this conference weekend, I will be listening for my hymn but if I do not hear it then, I will listen to it here or singing it to myself.

here comes the ox cart

Today I had a walmart experience. On the 24th of July. In Provo. Bad idea.

It was insanely crowded and very hot. It was also one of those grocery trips in which nearly all of my living staples had run out. Shampoo and deodorant, flour and baking soda, olive oil and vinegar, bleach and laundry detergent, trash bags and paper towels. You name it and I was probably out. Not that any of those items are inherently expensive. But when you're putting your husband through school, it can be overwhelming.

They don't put clocks in casinos or walmart. I think for the same reason. Every time I'm there (walmart, not the casino), I seem to get sucked in to a black hole of wasting time thinking about spending money on things I don't need. Two hours and $ later, I finally made my way out of the crowded store and into the crowded parking lot. I wanted to get home and take a cool shower, some ibuprofen, and a nap.

"The pioneers sure picked a hot day to get here!" I thought.

Then, "Wait a minute. Seriously?" I imagined what my pioneer ancestors would have thought if they had stumbled upon the air conditioned walmart equipped with carts that roll with out oxen and aisles lined with nearly any necessity one could imagine. If the shock of the incredible convenience didn't knock them off their feet, my spoiled attitude would have.

It crashed my pity party for a moment to consider what my people did. I'm grateful for my pioneer heritage, not so much because I'm directly related to them, but because I'm proud to be a part of an organization whose forebears literally walked across the country for something they cared about.

I'm grateful for a people so strong and so faithful that they saw what needed to be done and just did it. It gives me an example and a heritage to live up to. More importantly, because of their sacrifices, I am blessed with the freedom to practice my faith.


So in true Provo fashion, D and I bought some cheap grocery store fireworks.

Oh No! Don't light them all at once D!



Happy Pioneer Day!