Happy Easter!

I love Easter.  As a child, my parents were so good at the whole "Easter Bunny" thing; they were so creative about hiding eggs and filling our baskets.  It was such an exciting time, waking up on Easter morning and discovering just what that elusive rabbit had left us, second only to Christmas morning.  

Now that I'm grown, I still love Easter, but for a different reason.  It seems only since I've become a parent that I truly understand how someone could love another person enough to die for them.  It is such a humbling yet joyful time of remembrance and renewal.  "Thank you" seems too small a phrase for such an amazing gift that I most certainly do not deserve, but "thank you" is all I have.  Thank you, Lord, for dying for me.  Thank you, Lord, for saving me.  Thank you, Lord, for loving me in spite of my shortcomings.  Thank you, Lord, for the amazing hope we have in the empty tomb.  He is RISEN!

Remember how I said my parents were really good at the whole 'Santa/Easter Bunny' thing?  I, unfortunately, am not.  The girls from my MOPS group and I got together on Thursday to let the kiddos play and put together their Easter baskets (probably the last year we'll be able to do this right in front of them) and, when I came home, I put MJ's basket on a shelf in the guest room.  We rarely go in there so I didn't worry about him finding it.  Well, yesterday, as I was putting laundry away, I heard him start freaking out in the other room.  Sure enough, he had spotted the basket and was jumping up and down and pointing, desperate to get to it.  I probably would have let him have it if Jonathan had been home, but he wasn't.  And, since he missed MJ's first Easter, I didn't want him to miss this one.  So I told him "no."  Commence massive break-down.  *Sigh*  I really need to find out how my parents managed all those years without ever getting caught.

Anyways, despite the set-back, I put the Easter basket out on Sunday morning, hoping he'd still be at least a little excited to get it.

"Mom!  Look!"  (And yes, he approached it cautiously.  I'm sure he was just waiting for me to take it away again.  Mom of the Year, right here.)

Straight for the new truck.

I've said time and again, if my son gets nothing else from me, I hope he gets my love for books.  Thankfully, he seems to be.

Jonathan and I debated about whether or not to take MJ to any of the community Easter egg hunts.  We ultimately decided against it, and it's a good thing.  Jonathan hid a few eggs around the yard, and we tried to coax Matthew to find them and put them in his basket.  It's amazing how an almost 20-month-old can already look at you like you're stupid.  "You want me to do what?  Why?"

He FINALLY started to get the hang of it, but we had to point out every single egg for him.

As with EVERYTHING in our house, Oskar was on hand to supervise.

The one thing he liked about the egg hunt?  Shaking them.  Filled with M&M's, goldfish, and money, they made GREAT noise makers.

"I've found all the eggs and dumped all their contents into the basket.  Now what?"

Nothing like a toddler to make you realize the absolute absurdity of some our holiday traditions.  :)

Happy Easter, everyone!

*SURPRISE!*

So, it was business as usual last Friday morning.  It was a cloudy, cold (for Vegas) day so Matty was occupied with his tractors and the movie 'Cars.' I was in the kitchen putting away dishes.  Suddenly, the doorbell rang.  Who should be standing at my front door but Karen Patterson (Boggs, as she will forever be known to me).  Yep, that's right.  Boggs was standing at my front door.  I was speechless.

Turns out, she and my husband had been planning the visit for months.  So, in her words, "Surprise!  Hope you don't mind a houseguest for a week!"

I most certainly did not.

Not only had my sweet husband been in major part in planning her arrival, he also agreed to watch MJ for the weekend so we could stay down on the Strip and enjoy some adult shenanigans.  And, as much as I love my son, this momma welcomed the break.  So off we headed.

You cannot survive the Strip without a drink.  It's too crowded and too chaotic to handle sober.  Nothing a 32 oz. margarita couldn't solve, though. :)

When Boggs flew to Europe to visit me when I lived in Germany, we drove up to Amsterdam for a night.  We went to a Madam Tussaud's there and had a blast; so, of course, we had to check out the one here in Vegas, too.  I'd been already, but it's kind of a tradition. :)  And, while the one in Amsterdam is better (in our opinion), Vegas does have some distinctly 'Vegas' qualities about it.

Like Frank and the boys . . . 

. . . and dirty old Hef . . . 

. . . and *cringe* Celine . . .

. . . and (something I will never understand the appeal of) UFC fighters.

One of the best things about taking Boggs to the Strip was watching her face as she experienced the sheer lunacy of it for the first time.  Between the drunks, homeless people, and pornography, there were times I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.  However, what she really loved were all the street performers.  Some are creepy and disturbing, but some aren't bad.  This guy, however, took the cake.  We both had to do a double take:

Out of all the ones we saw, this one was the only one we thought legitimately deserved a few bucks for a photo op.  Thanks for letting us join your one man wolf pack, Zach on the Strip. 

I am huge sucker for pretty things so I convinced Boggs to take a detour from all the glitz and glamour and join me in walking through the conservatory garden at the Bellagio.  The garden is themed for every season and, for spring, they turn it into a sort of mini Keukenhof.  Now, I'll admit, it was no where close to the real Keukenhof, but it was still beautiful and a nice breather before returning to all the debauchery of Las Vegas Blvd.

Of course, you can't go to the Strip without doing at least a little gambling.  I'm not really a betting woman . . . but I do enjoy the slots.  So we found a machine, and I pulled up a chair for Boggs who promptly made this face:

"How does it work?!"

After explaining the finer point of pushing random buttons, we got going.  Neither one of us were big winners, although Boggs did get to cash out:

Yep, you read that right.  Vegas owes Boggs 20 cents.  I nearly had to pay her 20 cents out of my own pocket just to keep her from going to the cashier cage.

                                   

After eating, drinking, and giggling our way down Las Vegas Blvd, we decided on a show (Criss Angel's 'Believe'), which was the weirdest thing I'd seen on the Strip yet.  Good show, but seriously bizarre.  

It was an epic night, as much as it could be for two exhausted mommas.  We stayed out until 1:00 AM. Yeah, 1 AM.  I hadn't seen that time of night since Matty was 3 months old and still waking up for midnight feedings. :)

The next day was St. Patty's Day, Boggs' and I's "frieniversary." (It's a really long story.)  We spent the day relaxing and recuperating from the night before, although we did indulge in some green beer.  It was much different from the last St. Patty's Day we had spent together (which I honestly can't remember--and NOT because it was several years ago).  But I loved spending it with my best friend and my son at the park instead of some smoky bar.

By Monday, we were rested and ready to head out again. We had MJ in tow and an itching to get out of the city so Red Rock Canyon seemed like the perfect destination. 

We were definitely ready to do some hiking, but I figured a stop at the visitor's center would let MJ stretch his legs a bit before being shoved into the carrier for most of the morning.  Their visitor's center is wonderfully kid-friendly and very interactive.  MJ had a blast climbing on EVERYTHING in sight.

And I was right.  By the time we left and arrived at our trailhead, MJ made zero fuss about being strapped to my back.  I, on the other hand, may have made some groans and moans at first. ;)

Boggs enjoying the mountains.  You most certainly don't see things like this in Indiana!

Rocking the 30 pound baby on my back.

Our trail took us near some ancient Native American carvings and painting on the canyon walls.  Beautiful!

Tuesday morning brought some unexpected bad news.  Karen's husband's grandfather had passed away.  She would have to fly home on Wednesday morning for the funeral.  Our reunion week was drastically cut short, but she was needed at home with her family.  I hated to have to say good-bye to my best friend so soon, but it wasn't even a choice.  Her family had to be her priority.

We did have one day left before I had to take her to the airport, though.  And we decided spend it doing the one thing she had been talking about since she arrived:  climbing Lone Mountain.  Apparently she was a fan of my previous post.  ;)

And yes, we conquered it together.

Cheesin' at the top.

And, as you can see from this view of the Strip, it was a beautiful day to climb.

As Boggs relaxed at the top, I scrambled a bit further to get a better view of the Strip.  Suddenly, she started screaming "Something on that rock is moving!"  I nearly plunged to my death trying to scramble away, thinking for sure that a rattlesnake was waiting to strike.  I laughed out loud when I saw what it really was.  Can you spot our summit friend?

Thanks for the fantastic surprise, Boggs.  I didn't even realize how much I had missed you.  Come back any time.  Remember, Vegas owes you money!! :)

Hiking Lone Mountain

Lone Mountain is just what it sounds like.  A tall, craggy mountain, separated from the rest of the Spring Mountains, sitting inside city limits of Las Vegas, surrounded on all sides by miles and miles of subdivisions.  It's just off the 215-Beltway, the inter-state highway that circles the city and, from the view on our balcony, lies just to the west of the Strip; at night, a huge black mass blocking out the seemingly endless lights of a city of 2 million people.

It's been my goal since we arrived here 18 months ago to climb it.  Every time I take Matty to the park at the base of it, I see people at the top.  And these people don't seem like hard-core climbers; they seem like regular people.  If they could do it, I could do it . . . right?

However, this is most definitely NOT something I wanted to do with a kid hanging off my back.  The climb is steep and covered in loose rocks; I barely trust myself with myself not to trip and fall, let alone trusting myself with my only child.  But, I also didn't want to do it by myself, for fear of falling and hurting myself and then being stuck at the top of the mountain with no way down.  So, long story short, I've never really had a chance to do it . . . until today.  My father-in-law decided he wanted to climb it too.  Luckily, my husband and my mother-in-law did not.  So, off the two of us went, leaving them behind with Matty.

The view at base.  

About a fourth of a way up.  The desert is actually kind of pretty (in its own way).

Posing at the bench at the half-way point.  

Looking west at the half-way point.

Honestly, the first half way easy.  It was no steeper than any of the trails I'd done at Red Rock or up on Mt. Charleston.  However, this picture does not do justice to just how steep the second half of the climb really was.  

No wonder there was a bench there.  Smart people would stop there, enjoy the view, and then head back down.  The first half involved just my feet; I had to use my hands a bit for the next half.

But it was worth it.  Check out the view from the very top (the Strip looks tiny in the distance).

I climbed my first mountain!

My father-in-law and I at the top.

Panoramic view at the top.  Wish it were larger.  Awesome option, iPhone, but improvements need to be made. ;)

My father-in-law taking a breather at the summit.  Bless his heart, he kept up with me.  I think I made him nervous bouncing around snapping pictures up there, though. :)

Looking southwest from the top.

My elation quickly faded, however, when I realized I had to somehow get down from here.  Climbing up was easy compared to getting down.  I'm not going to lie:  I was nearly on my butt in some spots.  But, better to have rock burns on your bum than a broken leg. 

My father-in-law took the lead, saying he didn't want to take me down with him if he fell behind me.  Sweet, sweet man. ;)

The climb down was long and slow, and I had time to actually notice some of the local wildlife.  There were some beautiful red cacti along the sides . . . 

. . . and the first hints of some spring wildflowers.

This was my first time climbing Lone Mountain . . . but it most certainly won't be my last.  What an adventure!