Los Peterson

Gunnar and I just spent the entire weekend in front of the computer.



We are sort of in quarantine. He's got 'agripe'. That's Spanish for 'the common cold' but even if you don't speak Spanish, "a gripe" pretty much covers it.



I can't even remember the last time he was sick. Poor guy. But other than not sleeping well and almost dying at the mere sight of the nose squiggy, he's been in pretty good spirits.


(I've been making him wear his hat because the building doesn't have heat yet)

But the reason we've been in front of the computer is because this weekend was the 178th semi-annual General Conference for our church - and because Gunnar enjoys touching and destroying technology.



I LOVE General Conference! And not just because it means a Sunday of PJs instead of heels. Hearing our prophet and apostles speak is always an incredible experience. Chris is actually in UT right now for work but enjoying time with family and the privilege of seeing 2 sessions live in the conference center!

Since he's been out of town and since Gunnar is now sleeping from 6:00 pm until 6:00 am most nights (words cannot express my gratitude) I almost went to see Jenny Lewis perform at the Apollo on Saturday night.



That's right, I was going to take myself out on a date. I had the sitter. I had the ticket (center orchestra). I even had my hair did. But poor little Gunn woke up at 7:30 pm coughing and sniffling and not feeling good at all.

So, I canceled.

At first I was kinda bummed. I love all of her albums and really wanted to see her perform. But some things only mom can do. And even though I'm sleep deprived and my shirt looks like a giant handkerchief this morning, there's something special about walking the halls with a 24 lb toddler at 3:00 am. I'm not trying to be sarcastic. It's just amazing to me that my arms and kisses and love can make every one of Gunnar's problems disappear. I know it won't always be like this.

Last night when he finally fell asleep, with his head in my arm pit and half my body teetering off the bed, I laid there, awkwardly, thinking about how grateful I am to be a mom. I know, it's a weird moment to have such a thought, but I wouldn't trade any of my pre-marriage, pre-child, concert going days for what I have now.

Does this mean I'm getting old?