Idaho Proves Me Wrong

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Every year, my parents try to entice us to come to their home in Idaho. Often we go there for Christmas, but it’s usually too expensive to go there twice a year.

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Every time the thought of, “Oh, wouldn’t 3 kids be nice” comes in, I shut it down with a quick: “PLANE TICKETS.” I’m a romantic like that.)

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My parents live in Idaho, but I never have. They moved there one month after the husband and I got married. So it’s never been home.

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However, I often tell people how I made fun of them when we were all living in California and they decided to move to Idaho. I told them they were moving to the sticks.

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Ten months after they left, we moved to Oklahoma.

I LOST.

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The one thing Oklahoma has going for it though, is that it doesn’t get so cold here. Every Christmas at my parents’ house, we are slogging through snow, bundling kids in coats and hats and boots and gloves.

But Idaho in the summer is a different story.

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This year we pulled it off and headed to Idaho in late July/early August.

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I am so glad we did. We greatly enjoyed the Idaho outdoors, which are lovely when it’s not negative one million outside.

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Plus, my mom went all out with cooking. She’s a teacher, so she relishes those summers when she can do all the things she doesn’t have time for during the school year.

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Hello, homemade French Toast sticks.

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There was a berry picking trip, a lake trip, a farmer’s market trip, a secret waterfall hike, various walks along the Green Belt and of course, an airport trip.

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They crawled all over the planes, while I nervously hoped they didn’t break anything.

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It was good to be with my mom and dad and watch them spoil the kids.

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We just might have to make it happen again.

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