Yellowstone and camping

This was my second trip to Yellowstone and of course it brings back a ton of memories. My mind is like a little kid with ADD, jumping around all the time, follow, if you can.
When the kids were smaller, me, Steve, Trina, Darren, Angie, David and our assorted children did everything together, including camping. We were the family we made for ourselves in Utah. Once, over Memorial Day weekend we went to Yellowstone. The memories of that time are bittersweet.
Our kids were all so little, we were all still married with no idea of what was to come. Not to say that the weekend was all sunshine and roses, Steve and I argued, we always did when we were camping. That man would take everything from the house that wasn't nailed down and then we would have to pack it in and clean it up. Drove me nuts! But it was fun and Trina will be happy to know that the benches around Old Faithful are no longer metal!
The kids got to see life flight land in our campsite when someone rolled a four wheeler up the hill from us. The also scared us to death by running and screaming when they saw a mama moose and her babies. They screamed bear, the guys all took off running up the hill, I lost as shoe and about ten years off my life. We played hide and seek in the dark, I skinned my knees, just like the kids. Buffalo scared Angie by coming right up to the car on her side. We about starved to death on the eight hour ride through the park Steve took us on. In the caves around the park we have pictures of Mo crying, somehow my short little baby, the tiniest person in the group, kept banging her head in the caves. The six foot men in the group went through there with no problem, my three foot tall baby girl banged her head so many times I thought she was going to be cross eyed. Oh, and I hit her in the head once with a flashlight, it was an accident of course.
We camped so much, especially Trina and I with our families. We would come home on Sunday, clean everything so we could repack to leave again on Friday, after a while it was pure hell. No one should camp that much, especially with toddlers.
I miss those times, those memories and the kids all being small. I miss the laughter, mostly at me, because I'm kind of brain dead and will believe most anything you tell me. Like the time Trina, Darren and Steve told me the bears were going to eat me because I got my period on a camping trip. When the dog pounced on me in the middle of the night I pissed my sleeping bag, I thought it was a bear. They got a good laugh out of that.
I miss sitting around the campfire with Trina after the men and children were asleep, drinking coffee, talking and laughing. We always had to pee before we went to bed and we went together because it was dark and we were a little afraid. That damn Trina is a fast pee'er and every time she would finish, pull up her pants, start running, yelling "BEAR", and every time I fell for it. Every. Single. Time.She still busts a gut laughing at the memory of me running with my sweat pants still around my ankles. Bitch.
This time was different, not better or worse, just different. We stayed in a cabin instead of a tent. We only had one child with us, we listened to adult music, not what the kids wanted to listen to, I didn't feel responsible for anyone, I just got to enjoy the scenery, really take it all in without worrying that Mo was going to get eaten by a bear, or fall in a hot spring, or cork herself again in a cave.
It was too quiet, too clean, too mellow. I miss half eaten granola bars, chip crumbs and juice boxes. I miss the kids arguing about who saw the moose first, I miss my baby being little enough to carry when necessary.
Life changes, time moves on. Mo recently did a survey on her myspace and one of the questions was " Who carried you last?' Her answer was " I don't know" I hope it was me, but I think it was probably her dad.