Water Funtivities

This summer has equaled a lot of water activities.

Which is great; throughout the winter you doubt it will ever be warm enough to do things like that.

But Utah is a place of great extremes, and being pregnant, it wasn't long before I was sweltering and only a pool could calm my baking body.

So we spent a lot of time at the pool.

And the nearby splash pad.

And Seven Peaks.

Basically, anywhere but our apartment.  It was just too hot, and we felt too unwelcome there ... so we made a point to be gone as much as possible.

We did swimming lessons as well; I wish I would've gotten a picture of Belle at her first-ever lesson of sorts.  She wasn't much of a listener and is not at all okay with getting water on her face, but the rest of the kids in her class were babies ... I felt like I missed the boat on the mommy-and-me swim class.  But she kicked and jumped in and had a blast as long as I kept the water out of her face ... we'll need to work on that.  And every time we drive past that pool she yells, "Theeeeere's Belle's swim teacher!"

Mac loved his lessons.  The first class I put him in was ridiculous; they didn't push him at all, and after his top-notch California swim classes, I was a bit annoyed that I payed money for him to jump around in the shallow end.  So for the next session, I went a little crazy and put him in a class with 7 and 8 year olds ... that did it.  By the end of those two weeks, he could do a side stroke and breast stroke.  Plus he felt really cool hanging out with his goggles and all those older boys.

Mark came to the Tuesday lessons, and we had a blast cheering on our little swimmers.

But as soon as that was done, our Tuesdays became more about fishing.

I'm really starting to like fishing as a family activity.  Really, just hanging out with your family, breathing in the fresh air, snacking, and getting incredibly dirty ... it's kinda nice.

Plus these people are just so fun to look at.

Mmmm ... what a face.  What a face!  

"Hey Mac, give Sis a hug so I can get a picture ... wait, smile nice ..."

"That's not a smile, come on, where's your best smile?"

"Okay.  Your smiles must have disappeared.  We'll try again later."

Summertime, we love you.  It has been so nice to have so many outside options to get us away from our ultra-lame apartment.  You have forced me to spend my child-free evenings catching up on household chores (laundry, dishes, de-clutter, organizing, and scrubbing) instead of blogging and watching "New Girl", because I just can't seem to stay at home during the day to get it done.  But that's okay.

I kind of love you for it.

Our Country's Birthday, 2014

In Logan, Utah, the fourth of July is celebrated on the third.

Kinda crazy, but it forces you to celebrate for two days straight ... which is sort of genius.

The benefit to being a Gunn and living near Logan is that you get to celebrate something else as well:

Grandma Smith's birthday.

Grandma Smith is, in my mind, the epitome of a Grandma.  I never had the privilege of knowing mine very well; and this one meets my imagined ideals perfectly.  Her pride and joy are her babies and their babies and so on; she seems to have an unending amount of love pouring from her fingertips ... which is good because her oldest daughter has 8 children and 24 grandchildren ... and that's just one of Grandma Smith's 7 kids!

She was born on July 3, 1932, and has for many years celebrated this day in Logan at her daughter's home.

And we finally live close enough to be able to attend.

The festivities began with pony rides from Uncle John.  (Who was my neighbor growing up, so funny that we're related now.)

Belle was in heaven.  She did not want anyone else to have a turn.

Mac had no interest in the horses; all he wanted to do was jump and play keep-away and soccer with cousins.

The party ended in time for everyone to find their favorite places to watch the fireworks; we joined back up with my family for our annual spot in the Bowen's front yard.  Belle chose to sit between Jamie and Michael.

Mac stayed with us long enough to make sure we were taking a movie of the fireworks on our phones, so he could relive the moment again and again ... and then scooted over to sit with Bumpa and Nana.

Mark fell asleep.

And I whispered to my friend.

Happy birthday America, we are sure proud to be yours!

The New Man in my Life

Towards the end of June, I had a 20 week ultrasound.

This pregnancy had been quite easy up to that point; no feeling sick or anything, just tired and hungry.

But I was certainly worried about a couple of things; first of all, I was halfway through my pregnancy and still couldn't feel much movement in there.  This is my third baby after all, shouldn't I be able to recognize his tiny kicks right off the bat?  And secondly, every time I came in, the midwives had some real difficulty finding his heart rate.  In fact at my first sonogram at 12 weeks, they couldn't find it at all.

They scheduled me to try again the next week, and I prepped myself for horrible news.  I have two beautiful, healthy children ... certainly I could not be so lucky to get a third this easily!  But I wanted this baby.

I really, really did.

And thankfully, the following week they found a tiny heartbeat!  They found it again and again with each appointment, but it was always with great difficulty.

So, when I finally reached my ultra sound, I had visions of holes in hearts, tumors, and all sorts of crazy defects that would make a heartbeat difficult to detect.

Mark met us at the Birth Center.  He held up both of the kids in front of the t.v. screen while the technician gelled up my stomach.

He placed the wand on me.

And a picture appeared.

Mark turned around almost immediately.  "Is that what I think it is?"  he asked.

The tech nodded.

I was thinking tumors.

I wasn't too far off.

"It's a boy," he said.

Mark did a fist pump, and Mac joined in.  "Our family is staying in a pattern," he yelled, and repeated that he would like to name the baby Mike Trout.

I have a son!  Another boy.

Then the tech said, "Your placenta is right in front of him, I have to move it around a little to get a good look at him."

What?  Aren't placentas usually in the back?  "Is that a problem?"  I asked.

"No," he replied, "It just makes it harder to find him; like reading his heartbeat.  And it is also a lot harder for you to feel him kick; he's hiding behind a huge, thick organ."  We watched as that little boy jiggled and jived on the screen; and I didn't feel a single thing.

RELIEF.  From everything we could see, I have a healthy, active little man growing inside of me.

I could now spend the rest of the ultrasound taking in my son's sweet tiny face, his wiggling feet and his little tongue playing peek-a-boo.  He sucked on his fist, and I remembered the smell of newborn hair, their soft breath and softer bums.

It was exciting.

I cannot wait for this little man to come to our home, he will add so much!

Now if only we can find a name we all like ... that's NOT Mike Trout.

Girl's Camp 2014

So ... I haven't been to Girl's Camp in years.

This was my first ever attended as an "adult".

It was fantastic.

My mother took the kids, and I joined a crew of 12-18 year olds up the mountains to a stake-owned campsite.  It poured rain, was freezing cold, but we still managed to laugh, go snipe hunting, learn the Nairobi song and Loaded With Money song, braid dreads, talk about boys (and animae?? Not my thing; can't believe so many of these girls are into it), and have an incredibly spiritual faith walk and testimony meeting.

There is nothing like being in the Good Lord's creations to really feel His presence.  I have loved being with all these young women.  They are intelligent, crazy, dedicated, loving, and loads of fun. I am so sad to leave them!

Weddin' Time

Only one family wedding for us to attend this year!

But it was a doozy.

My Grandpa Johnson got married ... to Geneva Willis, his next door neighbor; a lady so close to my mom that we have called her Aunt Neenee my entire life.

She was like another mother to my mama; providing a place to go to after school, dating advice, and experimenting with different bras.  She is the epitome of a good Southern woman; long drawl, classy taste (even her swearing feels classy), gigantic heart, and quite opinionated.

She takes the credit for my mom and dad getting together.  "I knew your mama needed a good little Mormon boy, and when I met that Brad I just knew he was the one."  My dad's first Physical Therapist job was at the same hospital Neenee was a head nurse at ... and also where my mom was just beginning her own nursing career.  Neenee "introduced" them, though they had already met at church.

But after my mother had told my dad to get lost, only to miss him like crazy a month later, Aunt Neenee was the one to dial my dad's number, put the phone in her hand and say, "Now Eileen, you talk to that boy this instant."  They went out again, got engaged a month later, and the rest is history.

So, we love Aunt Neenee.

Loved her enough to pack my crazy kids in the car and drive the 12+ hours out to the wedding.  On the way there, my aunt's car broke down, my parent's car broke down, I took a wrong road and added an hour onto the trip, and Belle puked about 10 times.  I later discovered a couple of sores on her feet; she had hand, foot and mouth disease.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Still, I'm glad we went.

Neenee with a few of her new granddaughters.  There's plenty more.

Jakie and Belle tearing up the dance floor.

Michael and Jamie, our lovey little love birds.

The best thing about Neenee?  She loves my Grandpa.  A lot.

And that makes him a happier, more loving man himself.

They even said they're coming to visit!  I might have a house to keep them in .....

A Memorable Father's Day

Father's Day this year was something special.

Unique, maybe?

We got to spend it at another one of Mark's brother Matt's ultra marathons.

Mark spent the two-day event at the most gorgeous aid station of them all; Pink Cliffs.  He and his brother Ben treated runners and tanked them up with energy-boosting snacks and water.

Katie and I babysat back at Panguitch.

This year was significantly better than the last one I attended; there were no babies besides Katie's sweet little man, and Belle and Gwen were the only potty-trainees.  Compared to three babies and five potty trainees, this was a breeze!

We spent the day talking, for the most part.  The older cousins were quite excited to be in charge of the younger, so Katie and I decided to flip on another season of Call the Midwife.

Then we got a phone call.  We were asked to pick up some runners who had dropped out of the race (not uncommon with Matt's 100 mile jaunts .... it's kind of a long way).

So we did.

But nobody was at the aid station, and our tire blew on the way back.

Thankfully a nearby family reunion was teeming with Iowa farm boys who changed it for us in five minutes flat.

Katie and I hobbled back to all the babies we had left, and prepped dinner for kiddos and race helpers who would soon be stumbling home.

My hunk of love fell into bed at around 3 a.m. (after manning his aid station for around 30 hours), and I whispered "Happy Fathers day," as his face hit the sheets.

As the sun came up and the kiddos began stirring, we discovered our cabin -- with 16 queen-sized beds -- to be over-flowing with family, abandoned racers, and race-workers.  One gal was from Brazil and had lost her bag, which held her cell phone, wallet, money, etc.  She loved speaking her native Portuguese to Adam (who served his mission there) and thanked our beautiful family over and over for the hospitality.  I don't know if she'd ever seen a family so big in her entire life.

And this isn't even close to all of us.  It's just who could fit in the kitchen at the time.

The kids and I made a little plate of breakfast for Dad (before it was gobbled up by the gobs of people) and sneaked it upstairs to him with his Father's Day cards.  He mumbled a thank you and kissed both of the kids ... and fell right back to sleep.

He has the best sleeping face.

That afternoon we made another giant Sunday dinner and packed things up; chit-chatting until we were ready to leave.

Sweet, sweet Aunt Sam made it on a very exclusive list: People Belle Will Nap On.  So far that list has only included me, my mother, and my sister.  Further proof that Adam picked a winner.

And Uncle Adam just wrestles everyone.

Belle and her twinner cousin.  Lia looked EXACTLY like this as a little girl!

Another successful Gunn family get-together ... without quite as much focus on the husbands as I would've liked.  I mean, look at this guy.  I just think he is the greatest.

Photo courtesy of Mac

A Popped Bubble

So ... moving to Utah has been fabulous for me.

I'm by family; I don't feel like I'm completely solo in bringing up these sweet babies of mine.

I get seasons back.  I have missed the crispness of fall and the thrill of blooming trees ... it's been years.

I get to help Mark build something that is just ours.  It's a neat feeling to create a small business that can support your growing family.  Decorating, cleaning, and managing his online presence have been fun, empowering ways for me to help my husband.

And my apartment complex is quite scenic.

So, while Mark has been experiencing insomnia over the stress of owning a business, and depression triggered by freezing cold winters and snow plastered to his car, I have been enjoying my seasons, helping out at the office when it's convenient, and soaking up the beautiful scenery of our tiny apartment with the kids.

Until ...

I started getting notices on my door; reminders that I had signed in my move-in contract that I would "keep my children from playing unnecessarily in the entryways, sidewalks, etc.  No child under the age of 14 should be allowed outside without parent supervision, and all must stay at least 5 feet away from ponds and streams at all times."  Well .... good grief, what does "unnecessarily play" even mean?  I don't send my little kids outside by themselves, so that's not a problem.  And five feet away?  Please.  Who measures.

So I ignored these.

THEN one day early in my pregnancy (when I couldn't make it through the day without a nap), Mark came home for lunch, as he occasionally does.  I fell asleep on the couch, and he left not too long after.  I couldn't have been asleep for more than ten minutes, when I sat up quickly.  The door was wide open!  Mark always locks it, what was going on?  I jumped up.  Mac was sitting in his room playing, but Belle was nowhere to be seen.

I stepped outside ... no Belle.

I checked the giant sand volleyball pit.  No Belle.

So I raced over to an area on the other side of the office, where the ducks usually hang out and Belle likes to walk to.

And there, around that corner, came Belle.  She was escorted by two fix-it guys that work for the complex, and she was scowling as hard as I've ever seen here.  I ran up to them and started to say, "Thank you so much, we forgot to lock the d--"

But he cut me off with, "You have got to be more careful.  This is the third time it's happened, and if it happens again, we're calling the police."

My jaw hung open.  Third time?  Call the police?  What in the world was he talking about?  Flustered and angry, I swooped her up and marched back to my apartment.  After giving Belle a piece of my scared-mama mind, I called the office and asked for more info.  What did he mean, third time?  She'd never gotten outside without me before.

Well, the office had some stories for me.  Every single one I knew, because I was there.  A man saw Belle walking along in the grass.  She wasn't in the water, but she was fairly close.  I was sitting on a bench watching her.  "Little girl, where is your mother?" he said.  "I'm here," I had replied, and he walked away.  Another time, she was playing in the dirt while I was bringing groceries in.  As I was walking out of the house to get yet another load from the car, a woman came around the corner, and ran to pick up Belle.  "I'm right here," I said, and she set her down.

Apparently those incidents were not acceptable, and were the reasons for my notices.

I explained that I never send her out to play on her own; but I DO take her outside to let her run around!  We are stuck in that tiny apartment all day, and it's beautiful outside; shouldn't kids get to run and play and dig in the sand?

I guess not if they don't have a leash on them.

Because, even after this phone conversation, I received a notice from a lawyer's office on my door saying that I had refused to comply with my contract, and this was my final warning.  If I did not do so now, I would be evicted and required to pay fines.

WHAT.

I was so mad.  SO mad.

I felt trapped.  I felt unwelcome.  I felt like every window had a neighbor watching out of it, calculating how far Belle could walk away from me before they decided to call the office.

So I told Mark I needed a break, and I took the kids to my mom's.

Happy-Utah-Bubble, popped.  Then tossed in the oven and burned.  Then buried.

And that my friends, is what helped us decide it was time to buy our own house, where we had nobody to answer to except the people on our street, who, we would be sure, would have plenty of kids of their own.  It will be a place with parents our age, with kids the same ages as ours, and together we would watch out for them all while they played in the dirt and climbed trees and got into trouble.  Surely a place like that exists in Salt Lake City.

I mean, this is still Utah, isn't it?

Tball Round 2

Our first-ever baseball season ended in June.  Closing ceremonies included a medal.

Which Mac really liked.

Afterwards, there was some time to play on the nearby playground (which Belle liked),  We then cached in the last of our concessions tickets and set our blanket out on the field.  The entire Cal-Ripkin league sat together as the sun went down and watched Sandlot.

It was hilarious.

It always is, but it was especially so because we got to watch it with dozens of other baseball-loving boys, and hearing them all quote their favorite lines made the show even better.

Mac found a random group of 4 year olds, and together they raced to centerfield and back, practiced sliding into second base, and did push ups.

I think we're going to definitely love this league.

It ended just in time for the city league to start.  It's more of an intro to t-ball.  Games lasted 1/2 hour, there was no pitching involved, and most of these cute little four-year-olds had never even touched a baseball before.

Mac sort of stood out.

Thankfully, he only drilled a little boy once ... this poor little guy was playing in the dirt next to the pitcher's mound, and Mac really connected and sent the ball right up the middle, thankfully just skinning his thigh.

Yikes.

Still, he had a blast.  Any excuse to play ball for this boy!