I went into Eli’s room this morning and he was standing by the wall, crying quietly.  I looked at him suspiciously (thinking he’d pooped his pants or something) and interrogated him.  When it was clear that he was emotionally distressed and not feeling ashamed or guilty, I pulled him on my lap and started asking real questions.

“I had a bad dream.” 

At this point he had been awake for a couple hours and I was thoroughly confused. 

“You mean last night?”

“Yeah.” 

It was obviously still really bothering him so I asked him to tell me about it but he refused.  Of course my imagination went wild and I became obsessed with finding out the content of his dream. I made guesses, I comforted, reassured, and tried to be gentle.  He kept saying

“The only part of the dream I remember is the part I don’t want to tell you.”  

The poor kid looked horrified.  I told him that if we talked about it he would probably feel better, and that he could probably forget about it once he told me about it.  He said

“I can’t stop thinking about it.  I want to forget it but it won’t go out of my mind” 

I told him that after we talked about it we could play a game to help him forget about it.  He still refused.  He said he knew he wouldn’t be in trouble, he felt safe talking to me; I couldn’t figure out why he was holding back.   Finally I started asking the right questions.

“Who was in the dream?”

“Our family.  Except Dad, and Cam and Si.”

“It was just me and you and Miriam?” 

“Yeah.  Dad and Cam and Si were there but they were somewhere else.  They were doing the same thing as us somewhere else.” 

“What were we doing?”

“We were looking for fruit.  For breakfast.”

“Did someone get hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“That’s the part I don’t want to tell you.”

“Was it me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I die?”

He nods. He’s crying by this point, which results in me crying. 

“What happened to me?”

“Misha.”

“Misha killed me?”

Nods again.

That was about all I could get out of him, but it was enough to make me feel totally awful.  I gave him big hugs and promised him Misha would never hurt me and that I planned to be alive until he had little kids to sit on my lap.  It broke my heart!

While I had my doubts about whether or not to force him to tell me, I’m glad I did because I hate to imagine it festering in his little soul.  Eli is a compassionate little guy, and I think his biggest worry was hurting my feelings by telling me that he had dreamt that I died.

These are the things about being a parent that no one could ever prepare you for. 

***This is from August of 2012. Yep. I’m all over the place.

I had heard of the Spirit of Boise Classic, where hot air balloons from all over the country come to Boise and all launch together.  I was lukewarm about wanting to go, until I got a raving review from James, who had me determined to experience it.  It was everything James said it would be. 

I dragged the kids out of bed and dressed them in layers and loaded them in the minivan. Richard had expressed a desire to get some extra sleep instead of going to the event so the kids and I headed out quietly.  

The morning was so beautiful. The balloons launch right at sunrise, so there we were with our blanket spread out on the damp grass, SURROUNDED by hot air balloons.  It was breathtaking as they filled up and rose up off the ground, every where you turned you could see a different brightly colored giant billows of fabric. 

I’m going to be bold here and say that Island Park is probably my favorite place on Earth.  I really really love it there.  It is beautiful, it is removed, it is serene, it is associated with family and friends, it is paradisiacal to me.

In August we spent a week there.  We spent the first few days with our friends the Hurds who lived by us in Kuna and moved to Island Park a couple years ago.  We went swimming, rode 4-wheelers around their cabin, watched the Olympics, and relaxed.  We also took a little trip up to a lake in Montana but apparently I forgot my camera? My pictures here are a little backwards but I’m too lazy to put them in chronological order.

We spent the second half of the week with the Bird family.  We spent a day in Yellowstone, and of course did the traditional boating and fishing.  Great Grandpa Bird is an excellent fishing mentor, and Cam and Eli “caught” their first fish.  I’m a little vague on the logistical details of said “catch.”

I feel so grateful that my kids get to spend time with their great grandparents.  Ray Bird is one in a million and having had 5 kids, 20+ grandkids, 50+ great-grandkids, and 2+ great-great grandkids, he knows his way around a toddler.

Oh yeah- this old lady can still slalom.

Getting the kids out on the tubes is totally unpredictable.  Depending on the day any particular child could be wildly excited to tube or terrifically afraid.

Miriam had a turn or two on the tubes, but much preferred the safety of Grandpa’s lap.

The epic first catch.  Look at that pride! Richard swore to me that there were fish in the creek behind the cabin, but I have spent extensive amounts of Zen time by the creek and I’d never seen one.  He rests his case.

Whether or not we have helmets on in the picture- we ALWAYS wear helments when we ride.

Waiting her turn for a zip around the cabin.

I bet you can’t imagine how cool this seven-year-old felt driving this bad boy.  It was pretty funny to watch at first, but he got the hang of it.  It was also pretty funny to watch the Hurd’s dog chase the 4-wheelers.

Richard’s allergies in Yellowstone were merciless.  I felt terrible for him.  Also, our van kept overheating, so as we spent the August day in the park, with temps reaching record highs, we had the heater on in our car.  SOooooo awesome.  Makes for good memories I guess.

Perhaps because of the unusually hot temperatures our wildlife viewing experience was nil.  Yep folks, a day in Yellowstone and we didn’t even see a buffalo.  We DID see a bald eagle on our way out of the park and that was it.  One lonely bald eagle.  But here we are waiting in anxious anticipation for Old Faithful.  That’s why she’s called Old Faithful, even when the buffalo can’t be counted on, the geiser shows up.

Those hot pots can be pretttttty stinky.

Mim wanted a picture by the “pink dirt.”  She is filthy at this point.

We are now a true American family, with a portrait at Yellowstone National Park.

Do people still read blogs?  I know that personally I’ve whittled my google reader down to a handful of blogs of people for whom reading their blog is an inferior second to spending time with them in person.  People who are either really far away (that’s you Krista, yes the Krista that lives in the neighborhood next to mine), or really clever (that’s you Mere), or have a really special place in my heart (that’s anyone who ever lived with me or Richard). 

What with Pinterest and Facebook and Instagram and all, who has time for actual blogs? Blogs require so much more effort.  Whereas, on FB you can get such an immediate and brief glimpse, and be spared the long commentary.  I used to put great effort into my posts, desiring to entertain my readers.  But it seems like now we have even lost patience with blog posts.  (Anyone else out there a skimmer, like me?)  A quick shot with abbreviated captions on Instgram gives us our fix.  Right? 

I’m not condemning these things.  Just ruminating about the evolution of social media.  I just signed up for Instgram today, and got a little giddy over it.  But because I am a devoted combination of loyal and sentimental, I will probably blog forever, just modifying my audience and motivation along the way. 

But I went ONE MONTH without a post.  That’s a record for me.  I’m going to have to attribute most of that to the sheer BUSY-ness of four kids.  But I am pleased to say, that I’ve been doing a significant amount of thinking in the last six months.  And I’m better for it.  Wish I could say I’ve been doing more reading and exercising and eating well, too.  But I can’t.  And now I’m getting distracted. 

SOoooo…. I’m going to do this catch-up Adri-style without about 70% of her wit and humor.  One long post, with commentary as I feel inspired. 

Here are some pictures (and stories) from my phone that I’m too lazy to make into their own posts.

Simon had a follow-up visit with the allergist.  No change in his anti-bodies, whatsoever.  Big disappointment, especially because he is now starting to recognize that he isn’t eating what his siblings are eating.  He points and grunts and sometimes I feel so bad for him.  But we are in the habit of avoiding all things dairy, so we’ll just keep it up and find some new treasures like soy ice cream bars and mini-pancakes made with water instead of milk.  (He LOVED those.)

Miriam has a debilitating fear of my parents elderly bassett hound, but a Boa that could probably eat her? Ain’t no thing!

I texted this picture to Richard with the following caption: Yes. She SERIOUSLY took a bite of your deodorant.  His response: Mim did? 🙂

When Cameron was younger he used to always refer to his “smart brain.” Just a three-year old’s way of talking about common sense.  So now we are always harping on the kids “Come on! Use your smart brain!”  Miriam took it to heart, and when she found the hidden bag of Cheetos (for Cameron’s field trip lunches) she used her smart brain and a pair of scissors.  No stoppin’ that girl.

In an effort to get more pictures of myself on here I took this one as I waited in the Valet parking line at the Fundsy Gala this year.   Richard and I had to drive seperately and when the guy directing traffic pointed me toward the valets I ignored him and drove around the parking lot a few times looking for a spot.  When I passed him again he approached my window and reassured me it was free.  I told him that cost wasn’t my concern, just sheer embarrassment about the state of my mom-vehicle.

Mary Poppins just gets so much better as I advance in years and number of children.  The other day Richard and I were discussing the chasm between Mr. Banks’s (and Richard’s)  ideal and his reality.  The irony of this song is not lost on us.  So to sum up our month of May- pictures to the lyrics of “The Life I Lead” from Mary Poppins.  It would be so much better if I could remember how to get the song to actually play… I’ve passed my peak blogging years. 

I feel a surge of deep satisfaction Much as a king astride his noble steed When I return from daily strife to hearth and wife How pleasant is the life I lead!

(Mrs Banks:)Dear… it’s about the children…
Yes! Yes! Yes!

I run my home precisely on schedule
At 6:01, I march through my door
My slippers, sherry, and pipe are due at 6:02
Consistent is the life I lead!

(Mrs. Banks:) George, their MISSING!

Splendid! Splendid!

It’s grand to be an Englishman in 1910
King Edward’s on the throne;
It’s the age of men
I’m the lord of my castle
The sov’reign, the liege!
I treat my subjects: servants, children, wife
With a firm but gentle hand
Noblesse oblige!

It’s 6:03 and the heirs to my dominion
Are scrubbed and tubbed and adequately fed
And so I’ll pat them on the head
And send them off to bed
Ah! Lordly is the life I lead!

The heirs of his dominion.

A British bank is run with precision
A British home requires nothing less!
Tradition, discipline, and rules must be the tools
Without them – disorder!
Catastrophe! Anarchy! –
In short, we have a ghastly mess!

As sort of an early Father’s Day tribute, (because you are probably the only one who still reads this blog and I’ll never remember to do it on Father’s day) thank you.

You are the Lord of our Castle, the sovereign, the liege.  We appreciate so much your precision, discipline and tradition.  We love you! Even if it seems to be more of chaos and anarchy than order,  around here. 

circa 1990

I’d be willing to bet $$$ that the picture on top was also taken on a Sunday.   Kids get a little loopy and a lot creative on the Sabbath, but it’s ripe for bonding and memories.