Nursery for Belen!

I have been waiting for this day.  Entertaining this sweet heart has gotten tough in a little Relief Society room.

But then it came!

And I felt a little sad.

I mean, this little girl's baby-hood is gone.  She absolutely believes she can do anything her three-year-old brother can do.

But I just want her to stay little!

However, when I took her to nursery she ran in and found a stroller right away.  We found an Elmo to put inside (which she calls, "Oo-oo-ah-ah" ... she thinks he's a monkey), and all was right with the world.

Mark stayed to make sure she'd be alright while I dashed away.
He joined me fifteen minutes later to tell me she didn't even look at him once.

I didn't hear a peep from her and her nursery leaders throughout the rest of our church meetings, and I was able to listen like I haven't in ages.

And the best thing about that day?  When I went to pick her up, she shrieked, pranced over to me, and flung her arms around my neck.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I love you, Belen Christine!  You  have made such a difference in our home and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Life

I've come to feel proud lately.

Proud of my home.

I mean, I'm married to a stud muffin, my kids are adorable (90% of the time), we have our first pet, and now ...

We have our first garden.

Not much, a tomato plan, basil plant, and some poor crowded green onions.

But they're thriving.

I guess I just really like the idea that my home will be a home full of life, that I am a giver and protector of it.

Now I feel like I get what Charlotte was saying when she told Elizabeth Bennet, "Oh, Lizzie.  It is such a pleasure to run my own home."

And I'm ready for more.  More home I mean.

Anybody have any tips for house hunting?

Clever Girl

This little sweet pea doesn't much care for talking.

It has come as a real surprise to me. Considering her incredibly vocal newborn days, I had imagined her jibber-jabbering my ear right off for the rest of our lives.

I suppose there's still time for that.

But as of now, she's content to point and grunt.

Please pardon the focus as it is on my disgusting carpet.  WHY our landlord put white carpet in a rental is beyond me ... and the fact that it's over 20 years old?  Well ... it keeps our rent low so I can't complain too much.  But it's been four years now and I. Am. SICK of it. 

And say "Cheeeeeeese."

I've started to make a real effort to make her say something before I do what she needs.  And she does have a fair little vocabulary.  Off the top of my head, it includes:

• Dad ("DAT")
• Mom
• Mac ("Gak", mostly, but I think sometimes she says "dat" for him too.  Mac thinks both are inacceptable.)
• Cheese
• Please (sounds just like "cheese")
• Go (usually "go go go!")
• Shoes
• Poop
• Crackers ("ca-ca")
• Banana ("nana")
• Cupcake ("cake-cake")
• Gone ("Gah")
• Fish ("fssssh")
• Puppy ("pupup")
• Monkey (doesn't say the word ... it's actually just "oo-oo-ah-ah")
• Pig (another one she doesn't say, she just snorts.  She feels snorting is easier than saying "pig"!)
• Ball ("ba")
• Baseball ("baba")
• Foul Ball -- yes, I'm serious. ("Fah bah")
• Help -- ("Hep!" I hear it all day long ... and she sounds just like the Jinjos on Banjo Kazooie.  Please somebody say you remember those??)

I never taught her sign language, like I did a with Mac. (Only a handful, but he loved them.)  I'm thinking that's a good thing.  Had she been able to communicate proficiently with her hands, there's no way she would have any of those words down I just listed.  She loves to use her hands.  Any song with hand signals is an instant favorite.  

I love it; we sing "Popcorn Popping", "Latter Day Prophets", "Itsy Bitsy Spider", "Patty-Cake", "Book of Mormon Stories", "Ooey Gooey", and lots of made-up ones all day long.  However, I'm really making an effort to get her to speak.

So, the other day, she wanted a banana.  I know she knows the word, but she would not say it.  She grunted and reached and grunted and reached, while I kept saying, "Say 'banana, please'! 'Banana'!  Come on Belle, I want to hear your pretty voice.  'Banana!'"  She just smiled and kept pointing.  

Finally I bent down and put my index finger on her chin, opening her mouth and pretending to say, "Banana." She smiled and clapped.  Concept understood, right?  I stood up and started over.

"Okay little girl, open your mouth and say 'Banana'!"  

Without skipping a beat, she put a finger to her chin, opened her own silent mouth, then clapped and reached for the banana. 

Clever little stink pot.

The Way to a Bad Guy's Heart

The other day, Mac and a little buddy of his were playing super heroes.  They were jumping up and down all over the couches, the table; wreaking havoc and having a blast.  Since Daddy would be coming home soon, I attempted to start the prep-the-house-for-daddy-to-unwind phase of our day ... or in other words, the fool-him-into-thinking-I-keep-the-house-spotless-all-day routine.

So, I told them there were bad guys outside trying to hop our fence.

Quick as could be, they grabbed some makeshift wands and raced outside whooping and hollering and zapping bad guys from all sides.  (Pretty sure the wand thing came from Sleeping Beauty ... he originally only used wands to change the color of everything, and often handed me a wand and tried to instigate color battles.  "Make it blue!"  "Make it pink!"  But the Wizard's Duel from Sword in the Stone showed him wands could do other things as well.  I can't wait to read Harry Potter to him.)  When their wands failed them, they resorted to hand-blasters inspired by Iron Man.

I got into a real cleaning groove, and before I knew it, half of their play food was missing.  I glanced up to see Mac carrying a bowl full of green play food outside and setting it on one of the baseball bases that have made a permanent residence on the putting green.

Each base had some sort of play food.

Me: "Boys, what are you doing with all this food?"
Mac: "The bad guys are tired of being bad guys."
Me: "They are?"
Mac:  "Yes.  We bring some food and they say they are tired of being bad.  They are ready to be good guys, so we are making some food for all these good guys."

Well.

Maybe he has discovered the secret to world peace?

Bryce 100

So, remember my brother-in-law, Matt Gunn?  He likes to run hundreds of miles.  He set up a 100 mile race around Zion National Park.

He has done it yet again, this time around Bryce Canyon National Park.

As I didn't get around to taking any pictures of the actual course, here's a lovely picture of the national park that I swiped off of google.

 We left for the Gunn family's Panguitch cabin after Mark's work on Thursday, arriving around 2 a.m. Utah time.  I hustled the kids up to bed, Mac whispering the entire time, "Mom, I cannot believe it!  This is Panguitch, Mom!  We are in Panguitch!"  Mark went back downstairs to sleep on the couch for as long as possible before the rest of his family woke him up to head out to the starting line.

That ended up being twenty minutes.

So the Gunn family crew headed out to get those 100 mile racers started, while me and the kids slept in and enjoyed a day full of four wheeling, cookie baking, baseball (in a real backyard), and candy land.

Most notable was how incredibly happy Mac was.  Give a boy some space to roam free and he is a golden child.  Even when he would whisk past Belle and clothesline her (a terrible habit I'm doing my darndest to break), he would stop, turn around and say, "Oh sorry, Sweet Pea," pat her sobbing head, and run to leap off the bunk beds.

Mark woke me up when he returned home, exhausted, scruffy, covered in dirt, and smelling like campfire.  He was delicious.  And he told me he missed me.

The family was up and at 'em early again the next morning, leaving around five a.m.

But this time, they left me a car.

So later that morning, I finally convinced Mac to leave Panguitch for a few hours to go see Daddy and the racers.  We made it to the finish line and were able to help till about six ... when Belle proclaimed she had had enough.

The lovely Aunt Ashlee tried to woo Belle ... but she only had eyes for Ashlee's pancakes.

Packing up aide stations as they came in.

Adam had a shadow the entire day.  "Wook, Mom, it's Uncle Adam!"
And Sam, the beautiful, talented, kind, wonderful Sam.  I love her Adam, don't let her leave me!

Eco Commode ... the earth-friendly port-o-potty; Matt's latest small business.

It was so fun to see the kinds of people who got it into their heads to run 100 miles.  They were 20, 86, and everything in between.  Male, female, thin, stocky, portly; hippies and doctors alike.  The one thing I could tell all these racers had in common?
Their poor, swollen feet! 

Pizzas cooked in a portable brick oven ... heavenly.

The finish line.  If I can do anything for the race next year, it will be to spice that chalk line up.  SIGNIFICANTLY.   If I were to run 100 miles, I would want to know it when I finished it.

Matt proved yet again that he is unstoppable, especially with the aide of his lovely wife and the rest of the Gunn clan.

And we had an excellent weekend out in the wild.  It kinda put Big Bear Lake to shame.

We really miss the outdoors.

Big Bear Family Vacation

Big Bear has sort of become our little getaway.

Because really, Southern California can be ridiculous.

So on a whim, we up and spent a night at a little hotel up at Big Bear Lake over Memorial Day weekend.

We really, really miss mountains, clear skies, and open spaces.

Sunday was our arrival day, so after church we headed out to soak in God's creations.  We hiked.

Found a beetle.

Sang lots of church songs to make sure we remembered Whose day it was.  Belle's favorite is currently "Latter Day Prophets" .... and David O. McKay is so fun to do the actions for.

Trying to do a remake of Mac's favorite photo from the last time we were here ... but a bigger camera and a bigger Mac-head made that difficult.

 

Gorgeous ... I miss these.

The next day was largely spent here, where you ride to the top of the mountain in a ski lift, and then slide back down on a massive luge-type cement slide.

It was awesome.
We learned that the kids are definitely still too young to be out and about for an entire day, but as tired as they were, they did really well.

Seriously, family life is where it's at.

The Big 3-0

This hunk of sweet, sweet love turned 30 a couple of weeks ago.

I really tried to make a point this year to celebrate his birthday how I imagined he would prefer it, instead of how I would prefer it.  (That means no parties, few -- because I can't bring myself to do no -- surprises, and in general not too much fuss.)

So, we went to an Angel's game as soon as he got off work.

The Angels complied with our birthday wish and won.  There were even a couple of home runs, so fireworks were involved.

The kids passed out on the drive home, and though Belle perked up in order to stuff her face with Bacon Avocado Burgers and juicy, carmel-y chocolate cake ... Mac just could not break out of his baseball-induced coma.

So we were one voice short in our birthday song.

Mark Gunn, I love you.  I want you and our posterity to know that.  You are everything a man should be.  Of course you aren't perfect, but I'm grateful for that ... it means I don't have to hate myself for my own faults.  You are the one I try to impress with my writing, running, doula-ing, homemaking and child-rearing.  Your opinion matters, and when you speak I listen.  I think you are brilliant, kind, and the rock in my life.  And of course, ridiculously good looking.

Part of the reason I married you is because you calm my heart; you put my mind at peace and I love who I am when I am with you.

Congrats on being 30 ... you are such a grown up these days.  Thanks for loving us.

Death and Flowers

Since Mark's Dad passed away a few years ago, we've had the where-do-you-go-after-you-die talk with Mac a few times.

He doesn't seem to fear death at all.  In fact, when I went on and on about a white hair I found in my eyebrow (okay I've been pulling white hairs out of my head since Belen was born ... but white eyebrows!?  Please!), Mac interrupted with, "Mom, you gettin' old now?"
"Just a little bit old, but yes."
"Oh.  Okay, you going to die soon?  And go be with Jesus?"
I quickly explained that no, I would be around for a long long time, I was just going to also have white hairs for a long long time.

This discussion seems to have calmed any worry he has for people who have moved on, and has also come in handy for squished bugs and wilted flowers.

The other day I found him picking all the dead flowers off of our plants out front and piling them in the middle of our sidewalk.  "It's time to say a prayer," he said.  He then pointed a finger to the sky and said, "Here, Jesus.  Make sure you take care of these guys, okay?"

And you know what, I'm sure He will.

So Glad When Daddy Comes Home

We love it when Daddy comes home.

We are lucky that he only works a couple of blocks away, so we usually get to see him for lunch and dinner. His return typically inspires shrieks (from everyone but me, believe it or not) and requests to either ride in the car, motorcyle, play baseball, or check to see how the Angels are doing.

That man sure great to have around.

New Family Member

We have a new member of the family.

Meet Pujols:

He is a Beta Fish.  And he is Mac's distraction from the fact that he does not have a dog.  He has been begging me for one lately, especially after watching "Up" and hanging out with other people's dogs.  (Friends, relatives, grandparents ...)  Belle seems to agree; she squeals with delight when she sees furry little creatures and calls them all "Pup-pup!" She pats their heads and claps her hands.  And she carries this little fellow around everywhere we go:

I would love a dog.  I was one of those animal-obsessed children as well; I loved "Julie of the Wolves" and "Pony Pals" and idolized Pocahontas.  I wrote detailed letters to my parents explaining why I needed a dog (they weren't so excited about it) and had about every other pet you could possibly have in anticipation of one.  When Abby the orphaned mutt finally snuck her way into my parents's hearts, I was thrilled.  She was such a fun, goofy dog.  I loved her.
And I still love dogs.  I would love to have one.
But not in this tiny, yard-less house.

So I tell my boy, "Sorry bud, our house is too small."
He then brings me a hammer and says, "Here Mom.  Let's make it bigger.  Let's do this together."

Instead, we made another chore chart.  Mac saved some money, and we went to the pet store to find the cheapest, easiest little pet we could possibly find for a three and one year old.

And there he was, a beautiful red little fish.  Angels red.  Belle reached for him, and Mac said, "Hey!  Hims red just like the Angels.  Like Albert Pujols!" (One of his favorite baseball players.)

And so it was decided.  He bought the fish for a dollar, picked out a toy for him, and donated his marbles to the fish tank.  "Pujols loves marbles, Mom.  And his mouth is tiny, so he will not try to eat them and choke and die."

So Pujols eats meals with us.  He sometimes sleeps under Mac's bed.  He watches shows with Mac, and we regularly check out fish-related books at the library to read to him.  He catches food as it falls from the surface just like Albert Pujols catches balls at first base.  He plays hide-and-seek in his toy, and loves looking at the marbles.

Pujols brings out the best in my boy, and I love it.

And this little sweetheart?  She does her best to feed him ... and would do it every five minutes if we let her.  She's tried to touch him a couple of times, and has indeed poked him in the face while he was trying to eat.  She squeals, pats his tank, and has added a new word to her little vocabulary:  "Fssshhh."

Welcome to the family, Pujols.  We're glad to have you around.