chagrined

I've mocked Nature Boy's treehouse mercilessly, here and at home. But now that it's finished - complete with hardwood floor, tongue and groove paneling and bunks - I don't hate it as much as I thought I would. In fact, I'm kind of enjoying it. That treehouse has given me something I never thought I would have at home again: quiet.

See, I hadn't taken a few things into consideration. Primarily the draw the treehouse would have on our children, especially the Ubergoober. He loves it. He'd sleep out there every night if he could, but we try to limit it to weekends. At least one night of the weekend, Goober and Daddy stay outside in the treehouse. Oh, they're not roughing it by any means. They have a TV and DVD player out there, snacks, juice... everything a preschooler would want, including the all-important male bonding that occurs out in the woods.

And me? I get the house to myself. No one changing the channel when I'm trying to watch TV, no one griping about the chick flicks and art films I like to watch, I can eat chocolate and not feel guilty about not sharing, I can take a bubble bath without any embarrassing interruptions... basically, I can do whatever I want. It's so cool!

The best part is that they're just 300 feet away. A radio call, a cell phone call or a quick walk out the back door and I'm there. If anything happens, I can be there in less than a minute.

In the morning, they'll come back in the house, tired and happy, and I'll be happy, too, because I've had a chance to recharge my batteries with some much needed solitude.

Look how happy he is... how could anyone mock that?