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.”

I’m not sure why I feel like I need to justify posting just pictures. But here it is:

My brother on a mission is allowed to look at family blogs. His computer time is Mondays so I thought I’d post some pictures today from our trip to Spokane for his viewing pleasure. Keep up the good work bro!

One of the great things about marriage is the convenient access to your spouse’s area of expertise. For example, when Richard has a dental related problem, I am readily available to address his need and offer solutions. My most frequent response is

“Floss more.”

Richard is an accountant by trade. And I had to laugh one night as a friend of ours, also an accountant, put together a spreadsheet to keep score of our card game. From what I understand these guys live and breath by spreadsheets.

Richard keeps meticulous financial records. He is the master of the budget. Which brings me to my previous point. I have a need, Richard is right on hand!

This morning he helped me set up a budget spreadsheet. I won’t get into the details because I would probably just embarrass myself by showing my prior lack of understanding. But a spreadsheet is capable of a great deal. It evolves, adapts and basically does all the math for you. What is not to love about that?

I’m so glad that having a spouse with talents and interests different than my own allows me to broaden my horizons with minimal effort. It’s a really great feature of the institution of marriage.

And, if you have never used a spreadsheet, I encourage you to find the special person in your life who can enlighten you. It is my new favorite computer tool. (And I haven’t even scratched the surface of what Excel can do. )

On the Saturday night before Easter as I put together the baskets I realized I had the makings of the lamest Easter ever. No fake grass. No toys or even books. Just candy. And to top it all off I had bought the dark chocolate version of my favorite Easter treat; the Mini-Eggs.

I know dark chocolate is supposed to be better for you. But when it comes to chocolate I am not interested in anti-oxidants. I am interested in creamy milk-chocolate goodness.

So I was pretty disappointed with the way things were looking for Easter morning. But then a thought occurred to me that caused me to breath a colossal sigh of relief.

Easter isn’t even about candy or toys!

Our Easter turned out to be great. Cameron learned about the resurrection of Jesus Christ at church and told us all about it at home. The boys are typically easy to please and were content with their candy. Although it took some serious persuasion to convince Cameron to take some of his candy to our neighbor across the street. And the fact that it was so difficult for him made me all the more glad we did it. I had no idea he was so greedy. Maybe it’s just the egocentric nature of the four year old.

Forget the dark chocolate, I wanted to eat up my adorable little boys.