Buying happiness

This week marked the first big tears about our move. Late Thursday night, after a busy day including a trip to our local library (to escape the rain) and several hours of biking and playing in Cane Creek, Dexter came into our room in tears. Despite our busy schedule, he misses his friends. "I hate my life!" Are there any harsher words spoken by a child to his parents? Nothing much to do but comfort him and agree that leaving friends behind sucks.

About five or ten minutes into this teary event, the subject of a much-desired bow and arrow set comes up (trust me, it didn't come from my mouth). Upon eliciting a tenuous "we'll see about that tomorrow", Dex is done with the tears. He still misses his friends of course, but he's set his price for happiness. $50. Available at Wal-Mart.

About a week or so ago, during our inaugural week of "mom camp" (as I've dubbed this summer excursion extravaganza), Bella and Dexter are gleefully noting they have had ice cream three days in a row. Not just any ice cream, but DQ and two days of Biltmore Estate shakes and root beer floats. Add to that snacks from the Y, treats from the farmer's market, sodas at dinner.....I decide enough is enough. I announce I will no longer be buying daily "goodies" at the gym, and they shouldn't expect ice cream sundaes either. Bella, always quick with a quip, says "Just like normal." I prod, a little. What does she mean, just like normal? She elaborates. "Mom (that's Mo-om, with two syllables), I mean just like California. You hardly ever bought us anything. "

Yes, I see the pattern. Yes, I know we should get back to "normal". Yes, I realize that my goal is a simpler, less possession-driven life. And yes, I know that you can't really buy happiness.

But maybe, just for a little while, the credit card ad is right. An hour on the property, broken arrows and missed targets and all? Priceless.