About a month ago my husband and brother-in-law got a wild hair that "camping" would be fun for a weekend. "Camping?", I asked in disbelief. I hadn't been camping since I was small child, and luckily I had blocked that memory out so the closest I could come to camping memories were my roughing it days in grad school packing through Vietnam and sleeping on cots in rooms with holes in the ground for toilets. My husband's promise was that the "kids would love it"! The kids love everything I tried to explain, a night at a 5 start hotel with a pool and room service would no doubt send them over the excitement edge too, but I didn't win the argument and we were scheduled to go camping (my entire extended family included). One night only mind you, but STILL, an entire night. In my quest not to be negative I tried to make the best of it and I put on my "safari/camping attire" and got ready to rough it.
Now, I should clarify, that this was by some people's standards hardly roughing it...it was a campsite with running water, flushable toilets and a stand to buy firewood at the front station. I have a sister who in fact didn't think this was camping at all. All I can tell you is, that after 12 hours of sitting around a smokey campfire, with dust flying everywhere (courtesy of my kids and my sister's big basset hound kicking up dust), I gave up all hope and decided to forgo normal protocol. Hence, no late night trip to brush my teeth in the pitch dark or to take off my makeup (my dermotologist would cringe). The next morning after the worst night of sleep of my life (the air mattress deflated during the night and it was freezing cold), I put on my Krisa sweat pants and layered C & C tees, but there was nothing that was going to make me look like a normal or even remotely well attired person. The layers of dirt, puffy eyes, and wild hair really took away from the reasonably cute clothing.
On the way home we stopped at a McDonald's because Ava had to use the bathroom. We walked in...me in my outfit complimented by a pair of very dirty pink Ugg slippers because the weather had turned and my flip flops were cold, Lucia was in her underwear and an incredibly dirty shirt smeared with blackberries AND a huge scrape on her cheek from a running on gravel incident, and Ava with tangled hair, dirty clothes chanting, "I have to poop, I have to poop". As we walked through McDonalds I realized that people were staring...we were being JUDGED at the golden arches. The people shoving down big macs and biggie fries were judging us and let me tell you, it didn't feel good. We no doubt looked homeless.
I must be missing some nature gene, but whatever it is, camping is not on my list of "must-do" activities. My need for the outdoors and fresh air doesn't seem to outweight my need to be clean and well dressed. I said to my husband on the way home that I was all for sitting around a camp fire and catching up with family and friends, but then I needed to make my way back to my comfortable bed....and in the morning I would be ready for a nature walk, but it had to eventually lead to the Starbucks, my coffee and a copy of the Times. Signed, ME {lv}
Cute entry!
My idea of camping is a hotel without room service.
Posted by: Kath | August 13, 2007 at 10:42 AM