The kidlets and I got back today around 2:00. I had driven our camper (it sits in the bed of our truck) up to our family property where my dad, aunt, uncle, grandma, and a half dozen cousins awaited us. My sister followed me to make sure I had help if I needed it. Luckily, I didn't!

It was a too-short vacation but I'm glad I said yes when I was asked to go. I don't recall ever taking my youngest up there and he's almost 5. It seems impossible. Surely my husband and I have been up there at some point in time over the last few years. Yet, I can't think of when. That's so sad. The only camping I ever did as a kid was done at the property and it's an awesome tradition to pass down, which means I'll have to see how the hubby feels about making at least one annual trip up there during the summer.

Sitting around the campfire reminscing about all the trips we had taken up there as kids was a lot of fun. I think everything we did with our kids this weekend (there were a total of 9 kids ages 7 to 3 weeks old) was in part due to the memories of what we had done up there as kids ourselves. Roasting marshmellows, walks down the two-track, ice cream, hobo-pies over the fire, and letting the kids stay up later than normal. I hope someday they can sit around the fire remembering how much they loved going "up north" and realize it's something they want their kids to experience.