We all give the trailer at Bear Lake a hard time... it's old. It's a bit white trashy. You wouldn't believe it sits on pristine beach front property. And we all wish my grandpa would just plow it over and build a cabin. But hey, it wouldn't be Bear Lake without it. So rather than complain this time about not having anywhere to sit down or sleep comfortably - ok I so I complained a lot when it started to pour, lightning, and howl on Friday when all 30+ of us tried cramming into the old trailer, my parent's trailer, and my grandpa's motor home to eat dinner - I decided I'd take some pictures of the random things that make Bear Lake, Bear Lake. I made it a goal to not take a gazillion pictures of the hollyhocks (although you get a few here), beach, shells, or the clothes line but the stuff we make fun of and yet will never forget either. I mean, I think I post pictures of our Bear Lake trips at least three times each summer on my blog (here, here, here, and here) if you want more pictures but it's these ones that I'm pretty sure no one ever sees or pays attention to. It's all stuff my grandma never uses but can't part with. Remember this post? Someday, when we finally do get to plow over the trailer for something nicer, I hope all these pictures make me laugh. I know for sure they'll make me remember Bear Lake. Between a sick kid, nursing baby, the beach, and shopping at the craft fair, I didn't quite finish my project of documenting the little things that make Bear Lake unique. Hopefully next time. But you'll get the idea. And you know what? When I really stopped to look at all this stuff we complain about and make fun of, it's beautiful.
The sliver-loaded steps in front of the shed.
Some stuff from the shed. A storage container thing - I'm sure loaded to the gills with random plastic bags, foam, and who knows what else - and the original "bob cat." 
Trash cans next to the trailer with our rock collection on top to keep the raccoons, skunks, and ravens out of the garbage. Sometimes it works. 
These next items bring fear into any grandchild. The dreaded washing out of the sand with the hose. Grandpa always shoved the hose down our swimming suits and made us stand there, screaming about the freezing water, until he couldn't see anymore sand coming out. It was traumatizing. I still shudder when I see the water pump.
The stepping stone right next to the dreaded hose.
Grandma's plant and rock collection. 
License plate and stickers on the trailer. It's old... at least 40 years.
I'm honestly shocked that no one has been killed on these steps.
About to enter the trailer. Real secure door, huh? It's been broken like this for as long as I can remember. Slightly scary since it's razor sharp.
Rocks keeping the windows open. An obvious safety violation!
Once inside, you'll find a plethora of random items. Like framed cartoons (if you know my grandma you'll understand her obsession with newspaper clippings... this being one of them), fingernail clippers, magazines from the 1970s, "fakies" keeping the cold air out from the broken window, odds and ends holding pencils, a black and white TV that has I believe at last count three working channels, a gas oven that you should NEVER light, insect repellent and sunscreen that would probably eat away your skin at this point, and grandpa's hats. 
We almost lost the hollyhocks this year. They came from seeds out of my great-grandma's yard in Panaca, NV and mean a lot to my grandma. She was so happy to see the original colors back and made sure I took a picture of each of them. White, light pink, medium pink, dark pink, red, and a purplely color.
The bathroom. Basically the only reason we keep using the trailer. It's cramped but holds a fair amount of junk itself. And unless you know the trick to locking the door (I do!) you might get to know someone better than you had hoped for! Sorry Kurtis!
So glad my dad fixed the light switch... peeing in the dark in that tiny, crowded room is dangerous! 
The springs on the bed, at least that's what I've been told it was, outside in front of the trailer... which my grandma insists is still good with a little foam thrown on top of it. I guess the weekend my parents got engaged, my dad was booted to this thing for the night. 
We usually have the turquoise blankets hanging up, but my grandma decided after 20 years they needed to be washed. They make great beach towels!
And last but not least, my favorite picture of the weekend. My grandma's checklist. It's so grandma to have a list of things we're supposed to check before we leave. And her handwriting is truly beautiful. It's what makes Bear Lake, well Bear Lake.
It started out innocent enough. I set Cole down on the couch to gnaw on his fingers and wiggle around. The kid must be hitting a major growth spurt because I swear all he does is eat... me or his fists. I needed a break from the umpteenth time nursing him and thought it would be funny to try and get some pictures of him sucking his fingers.
What I didn't expect was for him to flip right over! I know it's the couch and I was sitting at the opposite end to help with the rolling but still. Cole is pretty strong and can get up on his side really good when he's in the mood. So with the help of his feet pushing on the back of the couch, his constant squirming to try and eat his hands, and my weight sinking the cushions ever so slightly, he rolled himself right over! We all had the same shocked expression on our faces... me, Pearl, and Cole.
I couldn't believe it (and boy was I glad I was sitting right there to catch him). Cole couldn't either. He looked like he was thinking, "What just happened and what do I do now?" He seemed impressed by his latest trick though, smiling and cooing at me when I got him flipped back over. Then he started in on his fists again. 
At this point, Pearl decided she wanted in on this accomplishment and joined Cole on the couch telling him, "Good job, Buddy!"
I'm just glad my baby hasn't grown up too much to roll over for real... like on the floor... yet.
I swear a day doesn't go buy that some random stranger stops me and says I need to enter Cole in a baby contest. IF ANYONE KNOWS OF ONE THAT IS LEGIT, TELL ME! A little help with college would be nice. He'd win for sure. And since this isn't just me believing this, I figured I'd keep sharing how adorable he is with the rest of the world. I just can't believe this adorable little boy is mine! Seriously, how unbelievably cute is he with those bright blue eyes? And no, I don't Photoshop these baby blues at all!
I wish I would have had my camera when Pearl was a baby. She was pretty dang cute herself... that's why we figured we could risk having another baby because our first one was cute. I take a gazillion pictures of him, way too many to post but I just can't help myself!
My favorite thing to do with Cole is talk to him. I love seeing him muster up all his energy to cooh, oooh, and ahhh! He also does this squeal sort of noise where he inhales as much air as he can and then squeals... super cute. Sometimes he will kick and squirm when he talks, like the day I took these pictures. I'll spare you the videos until another day. I just can't get enough of it. It always makes my day brighter... even if 30 seconds before he starts talking he was screaming at me!
Cole loves sucking on his fingers, well more like his entire fist. He makes the funniest smacking sounds when he's chomping on his fist. By nine weeks Pearl had figured out how to get her thumb in her mouth but Cole can't seem to release his death grip and gives you this weird look when you try to get his thumb in there. I know what you're all thinking... don't encourage him to suck his thumb! Who wants a kid sucking their thumb in kindergarten? But I tell ya, if I don't have to be a human pacifier for a few minutes, I'll take it. Plus, Pearl eventually gave up thumb sucking when she got a really bad cold or the flu and couldn't breathe and suck on it at the same time. It worked out great! Plus he is so dang cute when he's gnawing on his fingers I can't help but let him try.
I tell Cole these are his little friends... those funny things that hang on his bouncy chair. Playtime only lasts about 20 minutes and goes something like this.
Amusing...
boring...
starting to freak out...
happy again (and talking to them)...
and I'm done.
Cole is even cute in the stroller. I sure hope he gets used to this thing because it's a lifesaver on trips to the park now that he has some meat on him. His chubby legs remind me of a turkey drumstick... you just want to pinch them they are so cute. 
And with that, I'll leave you with one last picture... because I just can't help it!
Some stuff from the shed. A storage container thing - I'm sure loaded to the gills with random plastic bags, foam, and who knows what else - and the original "bob cat." 
Trash cans next to the trailer with our rock collection on top to keep the raccoons, skunks, and ravens out of the garbage. Sometimes it works. 
These next items bring fear into any grandchild. The dreaded washing out of the sand with the hose. Grandpa always shoved the hose down our swimming suits and made us stand there, screaming about the freezing water, until he couldn't see anymore sand coming out. It was traumatizing. I still shudder when I see the water pump.
The stepping stone right next to the dreaded hose.
Grandma's plant and rock collection. 
License plate and stickers on the trailer. It's old... at least 40 years.
I'm honestly shocked that no one has been killed on these steps.
About to enter the trailer. Real secure door, huh? It's been broken like this for as long as I can remember. Slightly scary since it's razor sharp.
Rocks keeping the windows open. An obvious safety violation!
Once inside, you'll find a plethora of random items. Like framed cartoons (if you know my grandma you'll understand her obsession with newspaper clippings... this being one of them), fingernail clippers, magazines from the 1970s, "fakies" keeping the cold air out from the broken window, odds and ends holding pencils, a black and white TV that has I believe at last count three working channels, a gas oven that you should NEVER light, insect repellent and sunscreen that would probably eat away your skin at this point, and grandpa's hats. 
We almost lost the hollyhocks this year. They came from seeds out of my great-grandma's yard in Panaca, NV and mean a lot to my grandma. She was so happy to see the original colors back and made sure I took a picture of each of them. White, light pink, medium pink, dark pink, red, and a purplely color.
The bathroom. Basically the only reason we keep using the trailer. It's cramped but holds a fair amount of junk itself. And unless you know the trick to locking the door (I do!) you might get to know someone better than you had hoped for! Sorry Kurtis!
So glad my dad fixed the light switch... peeing in the dark in that tiny, crowded room is dangerous! 
The springs on the bed, at least that's what I've been told it was, outside in front of the trailer... which my grandma insists is still good with a little foam thrown on top of it. I guess the weekend my parents got engaged, my dad was booted to this thing for the night. 
We usually have the turquoise blankets hanging up, but my grandma decided after 20 years they needed to be washed. They make great beach towels!
And last but not least, my favorite picture of the weekend. My grandma's checklist. It's so grandma to have a list of things we're supposed to check before we leave. And her handwriting is truly beautiful. It's what makes Bear Lake, well Bear Lake.
