On Saturday my little brother Darren got married in Twin Falls. Richard & I observed something inspiring about the event. But first, some background. I have spent my whole life actively participating in my church. But I have only ever viewed the other members of the church as they related to me. Any service I provided was good for the recipient but mostly I thought about how good I was for doing it. I’m not sure how well I am making my point here so I’ll cut to the chase.

My family wasn’t involved a great deal in the planning of this wedding. I wasn’t sure what to expect. But members of the church in Twin Falls, who Darren and Ashley hardly knew, rallied together to arrange a nice ceremony and reception. A woman who is Ashley’s visiting teacher spent her Saturday setting up, serving, and cleaning up for someone she hasn’t yet been able to get to know very well.

(We missed you Ev, prego picture of Lori is for you!)

I am so grateful for good people everywhere whose quiet example inspires me to be better.

your day is going worse than mine.

The only reason I was able to get this picture was because I had my camera in hand, taking a picture of something else when it happened. Usually I am quick on the draw, making mucous-clean-up my number one priority. Poor kid, he looks miserable.

I can sort of understand why some people are dog lovers and some are not. I fall into the dog-lover category because I had a dog during my formative years named Sabby that knew me and loved me. Unconditionally. When I was sad she was sad with me and she would nestle her long nose on my thigh and stare with her droopy bassett eyes into mine.

Don’t you love Zeb’s goggles. I love crazy kid things.

The second field trip was to the MK Nature Center in Boise. The kids were not too captivated by the fish but had a great time running away from their stroller-pushing mothers. A man in the center asked if it was “Mom’s day out”. I laughed out loud. As if we would choose the nature center for our “day out”.

But I must admit it was nice to do the Mom-Chat thing at the park afterwards while the kids played. We discussed our gardens, literature and politics. Okay, not politics. Or literature.

Next time

Warning: This post is not rated E for Everyone. It is rated M&W for Mothers and Women. Read on at your own discretion. (But don’t worry, it isn’t rated R either.)

Someone please tell me the age at which it is no longer appropriate for your child to see you naked. When Cameron turned two I arbitrarily decided that was a good age. I began making the necessary efforts.

But I still wasn’t comfortable locking the bathroom door while I showered. I worried that if something happened and Cameron needed to come get me he should be able to get in. The problem with that arrangement is that he enters whether or not it is an emergency and I am exposed.

So Richard and I both had some talks with him about privacy. But I don’t think he quite caught on.

Cameron enters the bathroom right as I turn off the shower.

Me: Cameron, please leave and close the door.
Cameron: Why?
Me: I would like to have some privacy.
Cameron: Can’t I watch you have your privacy?

Well. Today Cameron barged in on me and caught me off-gaurd twice over by pronouncing that I have a big hole in my stomach. I suppose he was referring to the dark cavity where my belly button has been lost in post-partum fat and skin. (Never mind that it has been two years since I last bore a child.) Despite my best efforts I have yet to get a super-model abdomen. But the last thing I want is my four year old pointing it out to me.

Four is definitely too old.

From now on I lock the door. He can bang and scream if he really needs me.

Today I am weary of the tantrums. I can’t recall Cameron’s “twos” being that terrible. In fact, Eli is currently passing through that allegedly terrible phase of life and while he has his moments this is a generally pleasant time. I enjoy this year of life, it seems that the with the development of language skills we can finally communicate.

But darn those language skills. I am thinking that the “Fearsome Fours” might be a more dreaded childhood stage. Now his language skills have blossomed into repetition of the phrases I use most when speaking to him. Today he said to me-

“Mom. I am not very happy with you.”

And of course I am famous for the “If” and “then” sentences. For example-

“If you throw a fit then I am closing your door.” (He has yet to master the childproof doorknobs, rendering him a prisoner to his own bedroom.)

So he has adopted the “If” and “then” threats for his own use, which I must admit at times are very comical.

“Mommy, if you don’t let me have some minutes to play then we will not watch the Curious George movie.” Really?

But today I am weary of my own discipline being used against me. And I am weary of screaming/crying/stomping feet.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think my life is hard. But Richard and I were discussing these discouraging moments the other day and we decided that while it is not good to dwell in them, it is okay to let them settle for a little while before picking yourself up and moving on.

So I am having a little pity moment right now, knowing full well that these tender years will pass all too quickly.

Thank you for indulging me.

I love to travel. I especially love to travel to places I’ve never been. Richard says I have an “adventuresome spirit” but I like to reserve that descriptive phrase for skydivers and members of the peace corps.

This week we went on a little getaway to McCall. May is an awkward time to visit a place like McCall. It’s too late in the year for skiing or snowmobiling and still too cold for things like hiking or swimming. The first day was snowy and cold so we spent it in the cabin doing puzzles.

Yep- snow on the back porch. In May.

But the next day I was determined to take a day trip to a place I’d never been.

Destination: Yellow Pine – Famous for its annual Harmonica Festival.

Not far from Yellow Pine is a ghost town from Idaho’s mining days that I wanted to visit. I mapped it out and on Friday morning we packed our lunch and hit the road. The problem with visiting places you’ve never been before, especially places very seldom talked about, is that you are taking a few steps into the dark. A few miles into our trip we hit snow. I pushed Richard onward.

Blurry picture, but you get the idea.

By golly we don’t have 4-wheel drive for nothin’!

After a few close calls where the truck literally sank in the snow Richard made a patriarchal decision to turn around. By that point I concurred. Ever heard of Jim and Jennifer Stolpa?

So instead we drove to Donnelly and had a picnic lunch on the property Richard’s parents recently acquired.

The first three months of this year were pretty grueling for our little family due to an intense busy season for the accountant. The last couple months we have had the chance to spend some quality time together. This little vay-cay was the icing on the cake for us and we really had a great time.

**As a side note, I have since learned that there is a better way to get to Yellow Pine than the road we ventured on. We’ll be taking that road on our next trip to Valley County.

After many personal experiences I have learned that friendship can be found in many places. But I recently realized that I could have easily learned this lesson from my children.

Cameron is constantly making reference to his best friend Deedee. This friend is of the imaginary sort. The first experience I can recall with Deedee was months ago. I found Cameron hiding under the bedside table in our room. I asked him who he was hiding from and he said “Deedee”. Hmmm.

On our recent trip to Spokane we were driving on an overpass over the freeway and Cameron shouted out to me. “Mom! That was Deedee’s dad driving that truck!” Hmmm?

Racing is what Cameron and Deedee do most together. Or I should say, plan on doing. The big race with Deedee is always “ta-mah-wer”. And any mysterious bruise, scratch or scrape is always a casuality of “baseballing” with Deedee. As with most imaginary friends Deedee’s age and circumstances are constantly changing. He is sick, he is at school, he is 4 (the “same big” as Cameron) or he is 10.

I love it. I don’t discourage it. I’m not worried. Yet.

Eli’s dearest companion is Monkey. Those who know really young children know their imagination, when it comes to naming stuffed animals, is quite limited. Monkey arrived at Christmas as a last minute stocking stuffer from my mother when I told her I had far more things for Cameron’s stocking than Eli’s. She really saved the day, more than she or I even anticipated.
The original Monkey was mauled by our dog. Eli was devastated. (Although I’m quite sure it was Eli who slipped Monkey into Misha’s kennel when I wasn’t looking.) Thankfully Monkies were still in stock at Fred Meyer and the delight on Eli’s face upon receiving his new Monkey is a moment never to be forgotton.

“Monkey boken” Eli says every once in awhile. Poor Monkey.

Cameron’s explanation of how his juice got sprayed across the table.

“It just POPPED out of me. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”