fishing with us is not for the faint of heart

So I promised tales of frightful fishing fun, and today I will deliver. But let me start at the beginning-- the frightful stuff comes at the end.

We've established here that my husband is pretty much in love with fly-fishing, right? I think he wants to marry it. Anyway, it works out nicely because I like that he gets to do something that makes him so happy, I love that our family gets to spend so much time outside together, and I even happen to enjoy the fishing part myself.

So there are a billion beautiful lakes up in the Boulder Mountain (John has fished many-- I've been with him to a couple), but there is one lake in particular that is full of big, beautiful brook trout. And it is a secret. John and his buddy hired a guide to take them to it earlier this summer, and they caught some awesome fish. Since I happen to like my husband and enjoy his company I will not reveal the name of this particular lake because if I gave away this secret I am sure I would never be forgiven :). Anyway, ever since his first time to this lake, John has been itching to get me back there with him and catch a big brookie (brook trout have always been my favorite, and there are very few places that good sized brookies live). Last Friday John's classes were cancelled and we decided to make a day trip down to Boulder to catch ourselves some brook trout (which, to be honest, was code to me for: take pretty pictures and get lots of time in the car to hang out with my husband).

We didn't really think through the whole trip very well, but what's new? We did make the wise decision to leave George with my parents because it really is not a very smart place to take children. Pea Baby had to come, of course, because she is still just a wee nursling. She was a happy traveler most of the time,

(I am in l.o.v.e. with that little face in the photo on the left.)

except for when she wasn't, at which point I would see that mad little face in the baby mirror from my seat in the front (picture on the right). So I would climb into the back seat where she would squint and scream and kick (picture on the left) until I nursed her.

And I would look at John through the rearview mirror while I had my body awkwardly draped over my little sucker and chuckle about what cars passing by must think of what was going on in our backseat. (I can't be the only road-trippin', breastfeedin' mama that does this, right? Someone please tell me that they do this too.)

So even though we weren't making stops for nursing, the drive was prolonged by many stops to admire (and photograph) the incredible beauty of fall gracing the Aquarius Plateau (thank you, John, for that little tidbit of geography).

Catch your breath because here is another shot of those fluorescent yellows.

After a good 5 hours of driving we arrived at the trailhead where we would park to hike just about 2 miles into the Unnamed Lake :). Someone whose name will not be mentioned (ahem), but who had been on this trail before (cough,notme,cough) had the brilliant idea to bring the double jogger in with us. Something about the trail being a pretty good 4-wheeling trail and only having a few rocky and/or steep parts. Uh huh. So the jogging stroller was loaded up with baby and gear, and away we went. And at first, the stroller seemed like a good idea. This part of the trail was flat and paved by the 4 wheel tracks (and absolutely gorgeous, no? Do you die at those bright trees against the dark pine background like I do? This is probably my favorite picture of the whole trip-- just love J pushing the stroller looking so small amid the beautiful expanse of land and trees and sky).

Look at the colors on that mountain! I look at this picture now and sigh, thinking how naively I was enjoying this lovely hike, not knowing the trauma that the same hike coming out would bring in a few short hours :). (That is me being slightly dramatic. But only slightly.)

As we hiked out of the valleys and into the woods the terrain got pretty rocky.

And I started to giggle that we had brought a jogging stroller along. Later this same fact (that we had the stroller) would bring me to tears.

The terrain got much steeper, rockier, and narrower at some points, and I ended up holding the front of the stroller up while John lifted from the handle bar in the back because there was no way we could have ever pushed it. No pictures of these parts, folks, I was too busy carrying a gigantic stroller through boulders.

But we made it, and we were in good spirits, mostly just laughing at our (and I use the word "our" loosely here) stupidity for hiking in with a double jogger. We were happy that this is a fairly remote place and there wasn't another soul anywhere for miles to laugh at us for this folly.

And the Unnamed Lake? Oh, it was beautiful. And the colors and the light? Holy cow.

Like I said earlier, we hadn't really thought this through too well. In order to fish this lake properly you have to wade out through waist high mud/ickiness for about 20ish yards. (And just so you know, I am going to be in trouble for giving you those details, because you just know that some diehard fishermen read this blog and will be able to look at these pictures and find this lake and wade out to the right spot and catch all of the fish, ruining it for everyone else and it will be ALL MY FAULT! Ha ha, I kid John, I kid.) Where was I? Oh yes, wading through gross stuff. So we hopped into our waders, strapped Pearl into the stroller on the shore, and waded out. We had no sooner gotten to the right spot and made a few casts when Baby Girl starts announcing her boredom and hunger in the form of wails. So John waded back to shore (which, might I add, is at least a 5 minute long process because you literally have to yank your leg out of the icky mud with every step you take), strapped Pea into the Bjorn, and waded back out into the lake. See how we didn't really think this through? So much work with a baby, but we were still having fun, and what do you know, John caught a fish almost immediately when he got back out. Just so you know, it really is a big deal to catch brook trout that are over like 12 inches, so this fish right here made the whole trip worth it to John. I love Pearl just hanging out helplessly in this picture.

This cracks me up looking at it now because all I can see is how uncomfortable she must have been-- I am sure her little hands and ankles were freezing, her rotund little body squished into the Bjorn, not to mention that the top part of the Bjorn had popped up making it so that her whole face was covered. I love her little eyes trying to peek over the top and look at the fish.

Needless to say, as soon as I took those pictures I unloaded Pearl from John and waded with her back to shore so I could feed her. Her feet took a few dips into the lake as I tried to keep my balance through the mud and hold her high enough. Like I said, we must not have really been thinking.

After I fed her and played with her she was happy, so I put her back in her stroller so I could take a few pictures. A couple of her,

but mostly I wanted a few of John doing what he loves in that beautiful place.

I really enjoy fishing, like I said, but I also enjoy not fishing. I like hanging out on the shores of lakes or the banks of rivers, letting John do his thing and just relishing in watching this man that I love do something that he loves. So I really would have been happy to go at this point. It was slowly turning to dusk and we did not want to be hiking out in the dark, so I really didn't mind not fishing any more. But my husband would not hear of that, and it was clear in no uncertain terms that he was coming in to stay with the baby so that I could go out and fish. And what can I say, I am an obedient wife (ha!).

It was getting darker and darker by the minute though, and I was getting pretty nervous about not leaving with enough daylight left for the hike out. So John said to make a few more casts while he loaded up Pearl and our gear and then we would go. I kid you not, on the cast after my "one last cast," the cast where I just threw the line out there so that I could reel it back in, I felt a fish hit the fly. I set the hook and felt the fish on. I was like, "You have got to be kidding me, I don't have time to catch a fish now!" John had to frantically throw (okay, not really throw) Pearl into the stroller, jump back into his waders, and get out to me with the net so that I could land the fish. This process took a l o n g time. Way too long. By the time I got the fish in, and we got the fly out of his mouth and got him unstuck from the net (of course that would happen since we were in a huge hurry), it had been more than 20 minutes and Pearl was screaming at us from the shore. We snapped a couple of obligatory photos, and it was exciting because I had never caught a brook trout even close to that big, but it was also dark, as you can see.

Usually we release the fish, but like I said, this guy had been through the ringer, so we had to keep him. We took another photo once we were on shore, and about three minutes after this picture was taken I sort of had a meltdown.

We were frantically trying to throw everything into the stroller and calm our exhausted, wailing baby down when we both heard a very LOUD, scary rumbling in the woods just 20 feet or so away from where we were on the shore. I looked at John and said, "John, are there bears here?" He looked at me, then back to the spot where the creature in the woods was, and calmly said, "Yes, but they won't bother us." Um, you guys, I sort of lost it. Not out loud, and not crazily, but I honestly panicked inside. It was totally dark, we did not have a flashlight, we had a screaming baby, we had to hike out through rocks and boulders while carrying a jogging stroller in the dark, we were exhausted and hadn't eaten enough or had enough water, and did I mention it was totally dark?! And that WE WERE GOING TO BE ATTACKED BY BEARS? I could have handled everything else okay, and I have never been one to really be spooked by the thought of bears, but for some reason the combination of dark, baby, stroller, rocks, and BEARS absolutely terrified me. It is not an exaggeration when I say that I have not ever felt fear like that for my safety before. I just kept thinking of us coming upon a bear in the dark and scaring it and it killing me, my baby, and my husband, leaving my poor son without a family. I was picturing me tipping the stroller upside down on top of Pearl and me and trying to hold it over us while a bear was trying to rip it off so he could eat us. Really you guys, I am normally pretty levelheaded. I do not freak out easily. You should know that by now. And that why my reaction to this situation totally terrified me. I was sure we were going to be attacked and left for dead. And this was all in the three minutes of time where we had heard the bear (which technically may not have been a bear, but I just knew it was :)) and started to walk.

I was holding the front of the stroller while John held the back, my forearms were already burning from the weight of it, and we had two miles to go through rocks and bear-infested woods in the pitch black. I put down the stroller and totally started to cry, which again, is SO not like me. John gave me a quick hug, reassured me that we would be fine, and we resumed our walking. It quickly became apparent that carrying the stroller like that in the dark would not be an option. Pearl was still crying and needed to be held, and we could not safely move together holding the stroller since we couldn't see. So I strapped Pearl into the Bjorn and John secured our stuff in the stroller, and then turned it around and pulled it backwards behind him. We did not move very fast through the rocky places, and my heart was beating so fast that I could feel it pounding against my baby every time I stepped. We said a prayer and just kept hiking. I stayed calm outwardly because I knew we just needed to keep moving, but I really was scared out of my mind the whole time we were hiking. John told me that I had no reason to be scared of bears, but somehow I wasn't reassured by him because he kept randomly barking like a dog into the woods "just in case." He said we needed to make plenty of noise so that we didn't surprise a bear and then they would leave us alone. So along with the periodic barking, he sang. The whole way out I listened to my heartbeat and my husband breathlessly sing hymns (which was no small feat-- he was dragging a heavy stroller up steep, rocky terrain, and singing the whole time). I had my cell phone, so I held it out in front of us and pushed a button every 20 seconds or so to keep it lit up so we could at least see a tiny bit.

I wanted to cry when we saw the car. I really had wondered if we would make it. I don't know why I had been so scared, but it made for some sweet relief when I sat down in the car and shut the door. We said a prayer of gratitude and my heart slowly returned to a normal rate. I don't know if this was a sign of my terror or what, but for some reason I was absolutely freezing the entire car ride home. The heater was on and John was sweaty, but I could not warm up. For five hours (which, if you do the math, means that we didn't get home until after 3:30 AM, by the way). It was weird. We were able to laugh about how crazy the whole thing had been, and I am happy I caught a big brook trout, but I can't honestly say that it was worth the trauma.

If John reads this (and he probably will because I will show it to him), he will feel like I have made this more dramatic than it was and might also feel like it makes him sound like a foolish, unprepared jerk. Neither of those things are true. I really haven't overdramatized how I felt. I was truly terrified-- probably the most scared I have ever been as far as my well-being and the well-being of my family is concerned. Maybe I had reason to be, maybe I didn't, but for whatever reason, I was really scared.

But this wasn't John's fault. I did not blame him or feel mad at him at all for this situation. If I wouldn't have hooked that darn fish this whole ordeal wouldn't have happened. It sort of is his fault though because he said that Pearl and him said a little prayer from the shore of the lake that I would catch a fish right before I did, so I guess I can blame him for that :). But you can bet that we will always hike with a flashlight from now on (something we should have thought of, but didn't), and I would actually like to always bring bear spray along with us as well.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I fell. Twice. Really hard. I was holding Pearl, so I couldn't catch myself and I just totally ate it. One of the times I fell forward onto my knee, and the other time my feet completely just got swooped out from under me on a slope and I landed on the upper thigh/hip of my left side. It hurt really bad, but it was actually kind of a relief to think about how bad my legs hurt rather than how scared I was that a bear was going to eat me :). I got some awesome bruises and scrapes, unfortunately not all of them are in places that would be kosher to photograph and post on a blog :). But here is one, just to give you an idea. You can't tell what size it is since there is nothing to compare it to, but this one was just a little smaller than a CD at its biggest.

So there you have it. A frightful fishing tale. I'd like to say that it will be the last, but who am I kidding?

I have a funny story that I need to write down about George in all of this, but I am not going to do it tonight. Just reminding myself to do it later.

my three

Yesterday after the second session of conference we drove up American Fork Canyon (toward the Alpine Loop). The (soon-to-be) biologist that I am married to needed to bury some wires in the stream to get some data (or something), and I thought it would be fun to take a few photos of the kiddies up in the fall foliage. I hadn't necessarily planned on taking photos with John and me in them, but we ended up in a few, and I am so happy about that because I now have a few priceless pictures of my three favorite people in the world.

I can't believe the joy that I feel when I see these and think that these three people really are my family-- my very own little family. I feel so very blessed.

Many other photos were taken. I will post more eventually. For now I just want to look at these :).

*Adventures of near-death (from fear) fishing stories to come soon. I know, you are on the edge of your seat. *

is this familiar to anyone else?

Setting: Our home, Sunday afternoon at 2:30 PM

Situation: Nap time. Supposedly.

What I shouldn't be hearing: Noises. From both kids' rooms.

What I find when I look in George's room:

Seriously. All by himself. I had absolutely no clue.

What I find when I peek over Pearlie's crib:

Could she look any less sleepy?

But wait! Great news! Someone in our house got a nap!

This really was all happening at the same time and it cracked me up. Though in full disclosure, I must confess that this isn't quite as funny as it seems because John's "nap" really was only like a 15 minute rest (though he did fall asleep) in between his post-church meetings and a home teaching appointment, but still. Babies not napping while husbands nap? Surely I can't be the only wife that this happens to, right? Love those not sleepy babes. And that very sleepy man. Lots and lots.

And since we are talking about Sundays, I'll throw these pictures from a couple of Sundays ago on here. I thought my kiddos looked sweet in their matching blues, so I snapped a few pictures while we were sitting on the couch.

Little Miss Blueberry Eyes. I could eat her.

George was happy to smile for the camera. That is, happy just as long as he could be upside down and look through his legs. Because that is totally normal.

Chubby little fingers that she cannot keep out of her mouth.

Pea is sitting by herself pretty well now. Oh, and if her little dress looks like a piece of vintage heaven, that's because it is. It was worn by her Aunt Lisa 28 years ago. Love little treasures like that. Next time I will try to get some pictures of G in which he is right side up. Or upside up, as he would say.

the students

It is not very often that you can say that every member of your family is in school, but that is the case for us right now. John is in his masters program (freshwater biology) at BYU, and G, Pea and I all started another year at the Elizabeth Academy a couple of weeks ago.

I wasn't planning on teaching again this year, but when it came down to it, things fell into place too perfectly for me to not feel like that was the right direction for our family. I feel so incredibly lucky that things have worked out this way because I really never planned to work after I had children, and if the stars hadn't aligned so perfectly I never would have.

When I left work last year right before I had Pearl, I knew that I wasn't going to be coming back to teach. I didn't want the stress and pressure of getting babies out of bed early and dragging them into school with me (because by some miracle I am allowed to bring my children with me). So I had pretty much thought that I was done. But then this summer the founder of the school (Gail Williamsen) offered me a position as a teacher mentor, helping the teachers in the classrooms plan for and know how to work with the students that have disabilities. That position basically gives me the flexibility to come and go when I (and my kids) need to. I try to be there Tuesday through Thursday for about 3 hours in the morning, but if I can't be for some reason, I don't have the pressure of a classroom full of kids that need me. It is the best of both worlds because I am still working with these precious little students that I adore, helping them learn to succeed, but I definitely feel like my number one priority and obligation gets to be to my own babies. It is such a blessing.

Like I said, George and Pearl get to come with me. Pearl sleeps most of the time that I am there (she has her own little room with her Pack 'n Play set up), and I wear her in a sling when she is awake. The kids LOVE her. George gets to go to his very own class this year (last year I kept him in with me), and he is loving it so much. I was really worried about this at first because I hadn't planned to put him in pre-school this year at all. I still felt like 3 was a little too young for that. But holy cow, he was ready for it way more than I was because he is sad when it isn't a school day (he is just there the same three mornings a week that I am).

Now that things have all worked out this way I have realized the enormous blessings that have come from this. What a blessing to have G in such a beautiful school, learning with the montessori methods and materials that I have come to value and love so much. The tuition for his class is $200.00 a month-- a price we could NEVER afford right now, and what a blessing it is that we don't have to pay for a dime of it since I am teaching there. What a blessing for me to keep up on my teaching skills and still have the opportunity to spend some time working with these little ones that truly brighten my life. What a blessing that I am able to contribute to our family financially and take a little bit of that burden off of my incredibly overloaded husband. And most importantly, what a blessing that I am still able to mother my children, to feel like they are getting all of me that they need, and to realize that this change of scenery is good for them. There are other parts of our lives that are challenging (and even this isn't perfect-- I still sometimes would rather stay in bed and cuddle than get up and get ready), but in this area we are feeling full of blessings and are so grateful.

Here is G, in all of his first-day-of-school glory. He was so excited and happy.

A little kiss before we left. Nevermind the fact that I look like I am in pain.

And then there is John. I do not know how on earth he managed to make his hobbies and passions his school and career path, but his classes this semester (things like aquatic entomology and limnology) cannot possibly feel like school to him since the homework involves things like this:

hi gross little guy!

Remember how he has been collecting and preserving aquatic insects for the past couple of years just for fun? Yes, well now he is required to. It is almost comical when he calls me up and tells me that he HAS to go on an overnight field trip to a river or lake somewhere with one of his classes. Last night I helped him sort and label some of the samples from his most recent gathering expedition. I decided that I was most helpful in the labeling arena-- picking up dead, squishy bugs with forceps really doesn't thrill me that much.

His job on the left, my job on the right, thank you very much.

I am glad I was paying enough attention last night to realize that John has been using our plastic food containers to sort bugs in. I asked in horror if he has always been doing that, and he never really answered, which means that of course he has. I kindly suggested that he could just go ahead and keep those little tupperware containers as his very own bug sorting ones. I am positive that before this conversation those had just been getting put in the dishwasher and then put away in the cupboard ready to store leftovers in. Ew.

As much as I dislike looking at the jumble of icky bugs floating in my tupperware, I have to admit that they look kind of cool once they are sorted into their vials.

Here was last night's finished products, all lined up and ready to be organized into the boxes of bugs that live above my computer. John said that I was talking in my sleep about something being "so gross and disgusting." Can you really blame me when this is what I did right before bed?

on solid ground

Someone please tell me that time doesn't actually go faster with each subsequent child. Because really, I swear my little Pear was a newborn yesterday, and here we are now, teetering on the verge of 6 months. SIX! I do not know when that happened and I have loved it all so much, but time is just slipping through my fingers and I can't believe how fast her first 1/2 year of life has gone. There are so many priceless moments in these stages, so many things I want to remember. She is the rolliest, chubbiest little ball of girly squish I have ever seen. I can't go anywhere without people commenting about those two things-- #1) her feminine, pretty features and face, and #2) how chubby she is. I get the comment, "She sure isn't starving, is she?" all of the time. Really, I am not sure a rounder baby exists.

Speaking of chub, this age brings along with it the rite of passage of starting solid foods. We have slowly dipped our toes (or tongues, I suppose) into this new pool over the past couple of months, and it is becoming more and more apparent that this little baby does NOT want to be left out of the culinary delights that the rest of her family gets to enjoy. She reaches for everything we eat and gets all squealy and offended if she is not offered a fair portion. It is pretty entertaining.

We started out with rice cereal, of course, about a month ago. I came home from a run on a Saturday morning to John and George making some pancakes for breakfast. I had purchased some rice cereal about a month prior, thinking I would introduce it to her around 4 months, but just never did. So that Saturday, with the boys making us breakfast, I decided it was time for us girls to get busy giving Pearlie her first taste of solids.

Of course as soon as Georgie heard what was going down he had to be front and center, wanting to give his little sister her first bite. This picture is blurry, but I love it because it is the only one we got of baby girl anticipating her first taste from her brother's eager hand.


Love Georgie's hand holding the spoon and Pearl's anxious little tongue.


She wasn't totally sure she was a fan at first. (Completely unrelated, but on my mind: I swear I don't look quite this freckly in person. I was shocked when I saw this!)


But she got a few good bites and swallows in. It was a good start, for sure.


I took these pictures of Pearl on my lap after she ate, not realizing how much I would love the picture of our family life feeling that I would get when I look at them. I love so much that you can see George in the background on the counter with his daddy's cowboy hat on, bruises covering his legs, the mess of magnetic letters peppering our fridge, and John over by the stove cooking breakfast. Just a little glimpse of a Saturday morning in our house, and that makes me happy.


A few weeks later (can you tell that I am not really in any hurry to push solid foods?) she got some more yummy goodness. This time in the form of applesauce, and she was definitely a fan, but she might have liked holding and chewing on the spoon as much as the actual food.


And then finally, this last week I let her try a little rice rusk. This was a hit. She loved being able to hold it in her hands and gnaw at it with those wet little gums. Oh, is there anything not to love about a six month old baby?!


Her tongue kills me.


Love the way she lights up and laughs at her funny brother. Also love that her thighs are so chubby that she could arch and arch all she wants, but she will never be able to squeeze them out of her Bumbo.


After she was sufficiently covered in rice goo she got to hop in the tub with her brother. These pictures are just fresh out of my camera, totally unedited, and I adore everything about them because it is just a pure image of my precious children. Seeing these two together makes me want to have about 10 more kids just to give them more of each other. Seriously.

last night 5 years ago

I broke out an old journal of mine last night a re-read the story of how John proposed. I realized that it had been exactly 5 years ago to the day (I knew it was close, but didn't remember the exact date). Sure enough, August 31st. A date that changed my life and made it infinitely happier and better than I could've ever dreamed. I scanned in the journal entry and will post it for your reading pleasure. This isn't nearly as painful to read as the last journal entry I posted, but it's still a journal entry from my barely 21 year old self, and I still cringed reading a few of the details. But it's a good memory, so here you go.

Best parts:

*I got engaged in a cemetery. Awesome, right?

*The fact that 3 "ghosts of dating past" called me as I was driving home to visit my soon- to-be fiance. I blurred their names out here. It was the least I could do. *shameful cringe*

*John just pulling a huge candle out of his pocket and lighting it. Hysterical to me for some reason.

*John had the ring box in his sock. Also hysterical to me.

*I really was completely oblivious. Looking back, I should have known something was up, but John did a good job of totally playing it cool. I was so fooled.

Sadly I did not religiously tote around my camera then as I do now, so there are not any photos of this awesome scene. You'll have to use your imagination :).