Megan and Rachel have known each other for 20+ years, but just like motherhood has a way of doing, they have become dear friends since birthing and adopting babies. If motherhood is an island, these two are sunbathing side-by-side in the riptides.
Hey! I’m Megan. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I feel like I should know that by now. The problem is that I’m raising these four darling but pesky children so there is very little time for actual self reflection and personal development. Basically it boils down to this: we are the hottest mess around. I know this because twice we’ve been interviewed by TV producers for our own reality tv show. They only pick the very most dysfunctional people and thankfully we didn’t quite qualify. So there we are- teetering on the cusp of “total dysfunction” and “seeming to have it all together sitting in the church pew on Sunday morning”.
I’m mid 30’s. The thirties are great. You have just enough gray hair to be problematic but just enough comfort in your own skin to not really give a darn. We have some great adventures and my children’s antics are hilarious. They really are the funniest people I know besides Tina Fey. (I don’t really know her, I just heart her. A lot.)
Two of our kids came to us the old fashioned way (please, don’t picture it) and two of them came to us by way of international adoption from the DR Congo. I write down all the things at www.millionsofmiles.com . You name it- we’ve been through it: post partum and post adoption depression, reactive attachment disorder, sensory processing disorder, a hard as heck adoption transition, PTSD. Mostly, if you like reading train wrecks, it’s a gold mine.
Lover of Jesus, coffee, going braless, and my people. Sometimes in that order. Sometimes not. Whatever.
Well, hello there. Before you invest too much time hanging out with me, consider my disclosures…
I have three small people living in my home but I am not a parenting expert. I have read (and own) most every book on parenting but they all get on my nerves in some way. My philosophy on motherhood? Survive. And laugh. A lot. (When you’re not pulling playdoh out of the carpet).
I cook food every day because my family keeps eating no matter how many times I feed them (enough already, people!). I have some go-to recipes that are decent. But I can promise you that I stole them from Pinterest or a friend. I am not a gourmet chef. I am a culinary copycat.
I wear clothes. And sometimes I manage to put together an outfit that Cher Horowitz would be proud of. But most days (when I don’t have to see real adult humans), I am wearing yoga pants. I am not an “outfit of the day” sensation.
I am obsessed with shiplap. And Joanna Gaines. And shiplap. Did I mention my house is covered in shiplap? But I am not a decor sensei.
I have a nice camera and a few nice lenses, and I like to take pictures of people who inspire me. But I am not a professional photog.
My husband is an author with the Fedd Agency. He is hot. And nice. An a good dad. But we are a normal couple who occasionally fight like mad on our way to church or when I am a raving lunatic because we have to take family photos and everyone is acting a fool.
I am a lover of Jesus. I am pretty desperate for him. That’s why I read my Bible and talk to Him a lot. But I am not a “good” Christian. I can be straight up crappy sometimes. I’m just grateful that He’s not a God of last chances. I would have hit my quota a long time ago.
Okay, if you still want to hang out, I’m down:).