And what a celebration. This year will go down in the history book of awesome Gunn family holidays.
It started with a pancake and ice cream breakfast with some of the greatest people in Southern California.
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| My good friend Heather is putting offers on homes ... nowhere near us! I'm really going to miss her. |
Once we were sufficiently stuffed with ice cream and park playtime, we hustled back home to get in a good nap.
And then ...
...the greatest Angels game of our lives.
My good friend Mindy has a wealthy father-in-law who is a massive baseball fan. His season tickets were incredible, and with all the family they had coming in for the fourth, he was looking to give them away. So she, bless her heart, suggested her Angels-obsessed friends.
We had to be there at four so Mark could prep to be out on the field and hold the massive American flag during the National Anthem. (Which he was invited to do thanks to his boss, the fantastic Dr. Holland.)
So Mac, Belle, and I oogled the players during batting practice.
I attempted to be super-awesome and get a player to sign a ball for Mac. He, however, only had eyes for the great Mike Trout, who was nowhere to be seen.
As we looked, Chris Ianetta (catcher) came in from batting practice, looked up at me, and placed the bat he had been using on top of the dugout ... right in front of Mac. Now, I had Belen in one hand, and the ball and marker we had brought in the other. "Grab the bat, Mac!" jumbled its way out of my mouth, but he just looked at me and said, "I already have a bat at my house, Mom."
Ugh.
So, the boy next to him quickly snatched it up. I humphed, thinking, Oh my word that would've been awesome. Mark would've loved it ... and then suddenly, that boy was handing the bat to Mac.
"Mac! That is Chris Ianetta's bat!" I felt giddy ... glad that kid's conscience kicked in.
"This bat is broken," Mac said.
Aaah! Stop! Ignoring him, I yammered on about how cool it was that he used that bat to practice and get super good at hitting home runs. He hit it so hard, he broke the bat!
Enter a security guard. "Excuse me miss," he interrupted, "we don't allow full-sized bats in the stands during games, so if you could come with me, we'll check it in at security and you can pick it up after the game."
Sure. We began our walk up, when bam ... there was that kid again. "Wait," he stammered, tears about to burst, "I was just letting him look at it!"
WHAT. I stopped dead in my tracks. No. He's got to be kidding. "You weren't giving it to him?" I asked. He shook his head. I looked at Mac, who was still searching for Mike Trout to sign his ball. I looked back at this ten year old boy, hands shaking and eyes bigger than any puppy dog eyes I've ever seen.
Ugh.
I handed the bat to him. He whisked up the stairs. The security guard looked at me for a minute, then shrugged and followed. Mac didn't even notice.
My stomach churned.
We went back to scouting out our favorite player, ignoring Howie Kendrick signing balls, Mark Trumbo signing balls, and a few other players I didn't recognize. Mac wanted Mike Trout first, and I couldn't get Belen to follow me around the get the other Angels' signatures. She was feeling ignored and put-out. I was feeling frazzled and harried.
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| Oh Ianetta ... at lease we can say we held your broken practice bat. Thank you. |
But our luck took a turn as the third base coach eyed us and held a ball up in the air. Mac held out his hands, and the ball skipped across the dugout and into Mac's arms. "Hey, hims giving me this ball!" He exclaimed. "It's not broken!"
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| Thanks for the ball, Ebel! |
The gift accepted, we took our seats right as we appeared on the big jumbo tron. "Hey, that's you!" squealed the teenage girls next to us, and I glanced up just as the camera switched to someone else.
Then came the flag squad.
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| Mark is in front of the "P" on the blue sign. |
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| Oh hey, #5 Albert Pujols. We named our fish after you. You'd be proud! |
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| Do you see Mark?? He's just to the left of that dang guy in the striped red shirt. Go honey!! Our friends Taylor and Janae Holland are to Mark's right. Greg and Danielle Irwin are to his left. |
The game itself was incredible. I felt like I was on the team. I can at least say I was on the dugout. If not in it. It was almost like I was back coaching softball ... but with a jillion dollars involved, more ... interesting ... players to look at, and a significant difference in skill. Still, I was that into it.
My friend's father-in-law had told us to ask for Alfredo the first base coach; that they knew each other and Alfredo would happily give us a ball.
So about halfway through the game, Mac ran to the dugout and yelled, "Fredo! Gimme a ball! Please!"
His high-pitched squeak made Alfredo jump, but he tossed a ball over his shoulder with a smile.
Two balls. In one night.
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| Here we have Mark trying to make sure his five brothers were good and jealous by texting them pictures and telling them that Albert Pujols had just saluted him as he carried the flag. Pretty sure it worked. |
The Angels ended up winning with a walk-off. We were all out of our seats, cheering like mad. I don't think I've ever cared about a baseball game so much in my life. (Softball is in its own separate category.)
It was just so fun.
Then finally, to top it all off, fireworks.
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| Besides Belle's squinting, she seemed to enjoy them. Mac, of course, whooped through the whole thing. "Waterfall fireworks are my favorites. Daddy likes them loud ones." |
What a day.
Arriving home with two sleeping children, we had to move our own fireworks to the following evening. Mac made sure we did not forget.
The bonus to that? We had guests!
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| Poppers are a little scary, turns out. Much better to be viewed from indoors. |
My Aunt Lori, cousin Kennedi, and their hilarious friends helped us wish America a very happy birthday.
And it really was.
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