Walk, Ride, Rub, Repeat.

 If for whatever reason we didn’t have the 4^th of July, the 24^th would suffice, for celebratory reasons of course.  Out yonder, we have what’s called Pioneer Day.  I’m quite sure I blog about it every year, but just for redundancy’s sake here’s the recap: July 24^th is the day dedicated to commemorate the trek of the Mormon Pioneers who came to Utah in 1847.  So basically, it’s the 4^th of July disguised in wagons and costumed pioneers.  And I love it all the same.  I’ve come to the realization that I don’t really care what the holiday is, but give me a parade and some fireworks and I’m pretty content.  I’m glad I live in a town with a Christmas light parade to tide me over. (Disclaimer: I love the 4^th for all the right reasons; patriotism, freedom, and gratitude of sacrifice.)

I took a chance, and participated in the 4^th parade without incident and decided to go at it again and walk in the 24^th one as well (I do it for the candy, folks).  I got more cheers of support for being for pathetic pregnant lady hustling to keep up with her float than anything else.  Truth be told, I feel great and I’m a little insulted when people are so shocked that I am as active as I am.   Do I come across as the fat lazy prego chick of the community? ‘Cause someone please tell me if I am!  I’ve been told I do a little more than the average 8 month-er.  Brent and I still do our nightly bike rides, I’m still teaching chasing crazed children, I can still ride my horses with minor assistance dismounting and I’ve even been known to walk in a parade or two. We’ve also been playing on our community softball league, but Lilly and I have been demoted to score keeper. Apparently big pregnant ladies and fly balls don’t go well together.  So now we just cheer for the cutest pitcher on the team.  And as long as my hubby keeps up with the foot rubs, I’ll try to keep up with him.

 Need I say it, but I LOVE BEING PREGNANT.  I can honestly say that I have yet to experience most of the horrors I’ve been warned about.  My feet don’t swell (can’t say the same for the boobs), I don’t get cravings, the bird is healthy and active, and I have the most amazing support system.  I realize I have another 8 weeks to go, (is that it…8 weeks?? Ek…) but I’m gearing down for the possibility that my next pregnancy will most likely be a nightmare due to the perfection of this one.  Y’all can rub it in then; I’ll eat crow respectfully. 

Speaking of the bird, at my doctor’s appointment today she measured in at 37 weeks.  That’s medically a full term baby ladies and gents.  So while my body says I’m only 32 weeks along, little miss tweet tweet thinks it’s ok to be the size of an albatross when she comes out.  Not cool Lilly Bird, not cool. I’m keeping the legs crossed for another 8 weeks until I’m good and ready for her arrival whether she likes it or not. 

Until then, I have a birthday to celebrate, a camping trip to plan, and couple of boys to attend to.

 Life is good.

Does she look like me yet?

I still see more Tank than I do Clark, but either way she's a cutie. 

 

The Good, the Bad, the 4th.

It started with a simple suggestion from my mom that my brother Bear, my best friend Sadie, and I should ride our horses in the 4^th of July parade in the Summer of 2005. And not just any parade, but the biggest parade in our surrounding area. Why? Because everyone wants to see three random kids carrying some flags on horseback.   So with three ridiculously oversized red t-shits, three American flags, and three mediocre behaved horses, we were lined up as entry number 12 amongst all the bells and whistles of what is the Oakley Parade.  After a few waves and plastered smiles, we wondered why the crowd seemed to be in a constant state of confusion. Turns out our entry form never made it to the announcer, and the real slot number 12 belonged to that of the Summit County Rodeo Royalty.  Yes ladies and gents, we rode in style the entire route as we so wrongly and unknowingly represented the Queen, as my brother, and Sadie and I accompanied him as the 1^st and 2^nd attendants. 

And for some reason, the 4^th of July still seems to be my favorite holiday.  I’ve decided in the more recent years to steer clear of any parade participation….until this year.  Surprisingly, it didn’t involve a horse, bad fashion, or false identification.  Instead Ashley and I threw candy at the entire Bridger Valley in support of a local political candidate. The day went off in perfection as it was followed by the homecoming of our Idaho family, bratwursts on the BBQ, and a big firework show. 

The end.

Oh wait, you thought this could actually end without mention of the boys and their firework encounter?

Wishful thinking.

Every year Tank ignores the burst of brilliant color happening above him and Zip hides in complete terror.  This year, we happened to take them to the park with us to sit on the blanket and enjoy show.  We thought much of the same would happen; oblivion/denial and mental breakdowns.  At the first bang Tank body rolled into us in surprise of the noise, and then immediately took guard and proceeded to attack the fireworks, barking and all.  Zip, amidst the confusion of Tanks attack mode and his own fear, began to bark fervently at the explosions happening yards in from of him.  Mind you, we did choose rather close seating.  Moments later, we noticed they turned the fear into interest and utter amazement (like mommy like puppy). They literally sat and watched as the fireworks left the ground and flew into the air with a bang setting off an explosion of color. 

I wonder, what do fireworks look like to colorblind dogs? 

Camping.

I have a love for many things. Many, many things….but there are few things that I am as passionate about as a couple of dogs, some crazy family, and camping.  I. love. Camping. And this year we began our tradition of camping in style.  My parents so graciously donated to the we.can’t.afford.fun.things.cause.we’re.young.and.poor fund, and gave us their pop-up camper.  No worries folks, we didn’t trade them our tent. Instead they’re sporting a brand new Airstream…with wood floors no less. 

So here we are, mid week and Brent asks what our plans are for the weekend are.  Nothing.  ‘Cause we’re lame.  So we decide to go camping. The general direction is Mirror Lake Highway and the time frame is till Sundayish.  After a shredded tire, grocery shopping, and a case of the missing dog leashes, we’re driving towards the mountains at 7:45 at night, racing the sun to find a camp site.   The plan: drive until we see something that fits our fancy and if we don’t beat sundown, keep driving until we hit Park City and try again in the morning.  No worries, we found the most luxurious camp site in the tri-state area.  Lake view, beautiful surroundings, good neighbors, and gourmet cooking- all located in Mom and Pop’s home.

After roughing breakfast with Starbucks and Danishes, Mom headed up with us mid morning to find a good spot, and low and behold we found one, big enough for a pop-up and an air stream.  It was just too perfect, mom and pop came camping too.  Loved every second of it, and couldn’t be more grateful to have such giving and unselfish parents.  Thanks momma and poppa! We love you!

Drum Roll Please

This picture may not look like anything more than a living room. That's because it's not, I suppose. It is indeed simply my living room. But what this picture actually depicts is 7 months of hounding, pleading, and begging for new carpet, as opposed to the "creatively" placed vinyl tile lied there once before. In December we picked out, finalized, and purchased new carpet and Voilà; mid June it's finally installed.  No more sweeping and vacuuming every single day. Yes, I'm aware that I should clean it daily, because I know that the same amount of ever-loving dog hair still graces my floor...it just means that I'm really good at picking out the most camouflaged carpet there was. 

As for these pictures.... 

just shows you why I live where I live. Look at that sunset. 

Crayola headquarters lives in my front yard.

Strong Genetics? Hopefully!

Last blog was my lame attempt at quickly documenting an amazing weekend just so I had some sort of recollection of what happened (thank goodness for pictures).  My vague writing didn’t actually tell you that every day was go-go-go, and every activity planned perfectly by my momma our tour guide.  I acted oblivious to the fact that I know Park City inside and out. But it’s okay, because I just pretended to be on vacation right alongside my visiting family.  Like I said, Brent had to play grownup and I missed him dearly, but the good company and the scenery made up for it. 

My family; Aunt Mona and Uncle Denny and Cousins Hillary and Lucas live in California, and sadly I don’t get to see them a whole lot.  The last time I remember seeing Hillary was at my brother High School graduation in Florida.  She was newly engaged to her super cool surfer boy Sonn, and I remember thinking how awesome they were.  Fast forward 9 years and my opinion hasn’t changed.  Thankfully, I’ve gotten to see Lucas a bit more often at weddings and reunions, but I wish everyone lived a tad bit closer. And/or had a million dollars to just travel as we please. Either one.

It’s neat getting to see how even though we don’t see each other regularly, how strong family traits can be.  Personalities, mannerisms, commonalities, etc… love it! Can’t wait to see them again soon.  Trips to California are a must if Lilly Bird is going to be a surf bum.

Anyway, I learned over the weekend that my 5 year old cousin has a larger vocabulary than I do. He also has a better understanding of dinosaurs, physics, and road kill.  And when spending large amounts of time with my Pop who has the ability to intimidate the most secure adult in the world, little Wyatt will embrace the hippy hair, aviator glasses, and vocal grunts and inevitably grow up to be just like him. Sorry Hill.  And, after much consideration, I’ve decided that Lilly Bird will be just like baby Hazel.  ‘Cause that’s one pretty darn cute baby; very eager in life. Here’s to family traits lasting one more generation! And I can’t forget to mention Denny and Mona. I enjoyed getting to spend time with them and how amazing they are!

Thanks Momma and Pop for always keeping family important to us….and allowing me to come party crash. :) 

Destinations Of All Kinds

This was a week that never ended....for all the good reasons.  Ya, I remember my Negative Nelly attitude on Friday, but like it promised; the evening totally trumped the grunge. And, of course, our weekend in Flaming Gorge never disappoints.  

Friday-Sunday: Tradition continued in Flaming Gorge with the Grandies, plus the added bonus of my family who was camping nearby.  

Sunday-Wednesday: Down in Park City with Momma and Pop and my family visiting from California. Hiking, eating, swimming, shopping, and playing. Loved it all.

Somewhere in the mix was Father's Day and my Pop was happy enough just celebrating it with a glass of Jack and a missing tooth. We all sat out on the porch, listening to kids play, dogs bark, and family chatter. He's the best Poppa. Love you Poppa Gator. 

Distracted.

I was thinking this weekend about how amazing my husband is. Guys, I seriously love him.  The kind of love that stays with you a lifetime, and then some.  So, as we shared our anniversary weekend with family, Father's day, and random drives, no matter what we were doing, I couldn't help but get distracted by him.  He's just a bundle of perfection all wrapped up into my husband. I'd like to say that finding him was all sorts of luck, but we all know that the chance meeting on isle three-fishing supply was no coincidence. The time we weren't deeply involved in our game conversation of life's "what if's", I reminisced of all (okay, some) of the reasons why I think he's pretty amazing. 

-I can buy a pair of $8 shorts that actually fit Lilly and me, and he makes me feel as if I just made the most important purchase of a lifetime.

-I hate when I start a project only to find out I'm missing something imperative half way through, and he runs to the store just for me. No questions asked.

-How he is so willing to share. His things, his food, his time...me.  

-He's endured six and a half months of nothing but mommy and baby.  It's been mood swings, bad hair days, maternity undies, and bags of baby clothes.

- He always has the house spotless for me when I come home from a trip...even if it means hiding the laundry.  

- He allows me to relentlessly refer to our dogs as our sons, even with the addition of the human child.

- He nests. 

- He humors my obsessive need for childlike sweets....like Slurpees, snow cones, and Fun-dips. And always brings back something of the sort when I ask for a surprise upon his return. (even if it's just a trip to the gas station or walking into the kitchen)

I'm down in Park City while he stayed behind to work and clean and whatever other grown-up things life demands.  He's so good to me...to me, for me, with me, everything. He's done it all for me and has changed my life is so many ways. Love that kid. 

Impressed, not.

I am not impressed with today. 

For a Friday, ya know, it kinda sucks.  It started too early, my students were off their freakin' rockers a tad naughty, the weather is crummy, and on my way home I saw a dead cat much resembling that of our Frankie (Who, I am happy to report, was found snoring soundly in his lounge chair instead). 

I'm ready for a break. Our break. 

What I am impressed with, are the people in my life.  I have some pretty amazing people who are always there for me. My Momma and Sadie just always seem to know how to fix everything. 

I'm packing for our belated anniversary weekend. It's been two years since the "I do's" and I still sorta love that kid, maybe even more than before. I won't get too deep into it, but I don't mean to brag when I say I have one of those insanely perfect husbands. That's all.

Keeping with tradition, we're on our way to Flaming Gorge. Don't ever expect anything different; we're creatures of habit.  Anyway, this will be exciting trip with exciting things to do and exciting people to see.  I just have to get over Friday, because Frinight on the other hand, is going to rock.   

not dead

not stressful

very much alive

i adore being pregnant. 

Some Like It Hot

I sit here with a belly full of Chinese (and a big helping of baby).  It’s roughly 140 degrees here in pregnancy land, but the thermometer is reading a mere 80.  My excuse this entire pregnancy has been that the summer heat won’t bother me a bit because I’m such a Florida girl.  Well, Florida ain’t got nothin’ on Wyoming.  My current pregnancy uniform consists of spankies and a sports bra.  Needless to say, it’s hot.

The boys think so too. 

Brent claimed tonight Chinese dinner night.  Complete with Chow Mein, pot stickers, egg drop soup, and Ashley. Nothing tops off a hot evening like hot Chinese food cooking in a hot kitchen, but it surly satisfied the cravings of Lilly. We defeated the heat with homemade Italian Sodas and basketball playoffs. 

 

1,2,3, Trimesters

Summertime is my time to blog I think.  I wouldn’t say I have seasonal depression (because , let’s face it, I’m not a depression kinda girl). But I definitely feel like the cold, constant, wind blessings of Wyoming affect my ambitions, such as blogging.  And I hate recapping like umpteen months of semi-interesting happenings detail by detail because those who care already know. Am I right, bloggers?  But alas, I’m going to do it anyway, A. because I’m finally in the mood to write (with a purpose) and B. it’s basketball playoffs and I have no husband for the next 3 hours.

So, you know what’s cool about the last 5 months? I’ve been growing  something in my stomach. Okay, it’s more of a someone and it’s not necessarily in my stomach; more of the womb region.  Come mid-September (15^th ish), and this drama queen is going to attempt to pop out a baby all naturel. Actually, my birth plan is nothing more than to have my awesome support team rooting me on and a healthy baby. Come what may.

 We’re having a little girl, named Lilly Anne.  And little actually might not be the best word to use.  Last appointment I measured 7 weeks ahead of schedule.  And if heredity has anything to do with it, our baby is going to come out walking.  I was a pretty plump baby, weighing in at 9lb 8oz, breaking my collar bone on the way out, and Brent wasn’t so tiny himself.  Our doc has already advised us to enroll our child in Preschool now, because she’ll be ready by the time she comes out.  Awesome. 

I’m just about to enter my 3^rd trimester and am loving most every second of it.  The first three months were a little rocky with the nausea and food aversions. (Random fun fact: I’d rather have my legs pulled off by a very hungry large baboon than to be nauseous all day) But we got that taken care of quickly with a little magic cure called Unisom and Vitamin B-12.

 I’ve definitely enjoyed all the little anticipation milestones. Everything from my weekly pees on a stick waiting for that extra line, to the first heartbeats,  to seeing something more than a peanut on the screen, to feeling her move (…and move and move and move) inside me, and to finding out what color paint to buy.  It’s already been the most rewarding experience of our lives and she’s no bigger than a squash (or so my weekly pregnancy app tells me).  And the best part of all; family.  Seeing a small glimpse as to what kind of father Brent is going to be…already Lilly is so loved and spoiled by him, it’s amazing.  If he’s half the dad he is a husband, Lilly will be the luckiest baby ever. We’re both lucky.  But becoming a family of our own has made us appreciate/love/enjoy/respect our big family so much more.  There’s something unexplainable about the coming of a baby that puts things into perspective.  This really is all about family. 

Since I have entered adulthood (HA!) I’m surrounded by people with children, having children, had children or anything in-between, and I’ve come to realize there are some freaking crazy moms out there…and by freaking crazy I mean fanatical, in the most loving way.  I know it’s our role in society that once you’ve passed a certain stage in parenthood you are now legally bound and contracted to give out any advice at all times.  And trust me; I love it, because honestly I have no clue what the heck I’m doing in the first place.  I knew enough to get pregnant, and left the rest up to you guys.  But what I have learned, mostly by stepping foot into Babies R’ Us…that having a baby is not only very overwhelming, but also very frivolous.  My theory; women have been popping out babies since the beginning of time.  Deliver in the corn field, pick it up, and keep shucking. And maybe I’m not that nonchalant about it, but I definitely don’t need half the stuff parents think they can’t raise their child without.  On that note, we’re registered at Babies R’ Us and Wal-Mart…. And yes, you’ll most likely find numerous unnecessary, but yet very handy items on there…so don’t let my rant deter you…I will find a use for it. Ha, I kid.  Actually, I probably don’t know what half of the stuff does, but the “mommy-must-have-list” told me to scan it….so I did.

First time moms are funny. I’m one of them.  I’m concerned every doctor’s appointment my child is going to have spontaneously disappeared.  And every night I dream I’m making out with some old boyfriend….because in dream land my oh-so pregnant figure is just too darn irresistible. Oh ya, and I was pretty sure that on day three of pregnancy I was already popping; which very well could have been the case with Ms. Ginormo growing in there. 

Which brings me to the realization of this is how pregnancy every pretty much goes…erm, mine anyway.