I have never, ever been much of a camper. I am an admitted priss. I don’t like dirt. I hate bugs. Eating out of an ice chest completely sceeves me out. I shower every single day, often twice a day. I like my make-up, my high-heeled shoes, my flat iron, my shower, my bed, and my wine fridge.
Our last camping trip was two years ago. It was a nightmare, outside of the opportunity to spend time with my sister, brother, BIL, nieces and nephs. I didn’t sleep for four days. EVERYTHING had to be completely washed when we got home because of the dirt. And yes, we even saw a bear. I swore I would do all I could to avoid another camping trip. But Michael and the kids love camping. He made noises about another trip last summer, but it never worked out (can I get an “Amen”?). In January, he started talking about it again. I broke out in hives. In May, he started searching for sites. I had a meltdown. In June, he booked our trip. Four days of h-e-double hockey sticks. I scheduled a dr’s appointment to get medication for myself. (not really, but it sounds good, right?) Every time I thought about the approaching days of torture, I could only shake my head. I lived in denial until a week before we were to leave. UGH! This time, since family wasn’t joining us, we picked a location closer to home. At least we were only driving 2.5 hours instead of 6. But still…..camping. YUCK.
I will admit, Michael gave me an out. He said he would take the kids and I could stay home. Lose-lose situation for me. If I stayed home, I would never hear the end of it. I mean it. He’d never let me live it down. But if I went….torture. I went. I spent the entire Saturday before we left packing, re-packing, shopping, and doing a little pre-cooking. And then Sunday morning, we hit the road.
You know what? It wasn’t that bad. Yes, there was still plenty of dirt, but it wasn’t that powdery dirt that gets into and sticks to every single blessed thing. We had the bathroom with showers not 20 yards from our tent. There weren’t any bear boxes to store the food (because the bears don’t come down that close) so mentally I was in a much better place. I still didn’t sleep, especially the first night. Grace still got up in the middle of the night both nights, but again, the bathroom was only twenty yards away instead of down a hill through the trees. The first day, we set up camp and took a walk along the lake. The first morning, Michael took the kids fishing, then we went on a beautiful 4 mile hike. We rented a boat later that day and spent two hours out on the lake. Then the next morning, we packed it up and came home.
Ethan is less a camper than I . He hated it – well, he said he hated it, but I did catch him having fun more than a few times. He asked to come home at 8pm the first night, and again the second night. He doesn’t mind the dirt, not showering, eating out of an ice chest, etc. He does not like to be away from home. The older two were in heaven. I survived. Until next year. Rumor has it we’re going to Yellowstone. I refuse to go unless we rent an RV for that one. Could you even imagine…..tent camping in Yellowstone? NO WAY!!!!