Camping

When I was a kid camping was our vacation. I'm not even sure I knew what a hotel was until high school.  I certainly never spent the night in one until Project Close-Up junior year. We camped in sun, snow, rain - the lady at the check-in cabin called it liquid sunshine. She was sleeping in a cabin, I was the one wringing sunshine out of my socks. My parents had a mustard yellow tent with real metal poles. We slept on the ground because according to my dad (a man who has spent more than one night in a sleeping bag dangling from an ice cliff, on purpose) real campers sleep on the ground. My brother and I were tasked with filling the water jug up each morning. The "water jug" was this enormous, shapeless white blob with a uselessly small angular handle at the top and a small red spigot at the bottom. It weighed about 400 pounds when full and was impossible to carry. My dad claims to have no memory of the wretched thing, perhaps because he wasn't the one in need of a chiropractor in elementary school.  Imagine my horror to see them still on the shelves at Bass Pro Shop.

This week I inflict this torture pass this tradition on to my own children. We have been hunting and gathering our supplies (aka stimulating the economy) and there might be room in the car for us too. Our new tent should take less than an hour to set up, without the need for four letter words or an engineering degree. And because my husband believes that real campers are crazy, we will be sleeping on queen sized air mattresses with sheets, pillows and blankets. We have a fan that runs on D batteries, a lantern that doubles as a bug zapper, and a converter that turns the cigarette lighter in the car into an electrical outlet.

Andrew has put the kibosh on picking fresh blueberries for our pancakes in the morning since he thinks the kids will inadvertently poison us (he may have a point) so our blueberries will come from Whole Foods. He declared that most of our meals will be eaten in local restaurants instead of charred over the campfire. (Part of his job requires him to teach food safety. There is no convincing him that a cooler full of melting ice is adequate refrigeration.)

My dad says we aren't real campers. My Visa bill says otherwise.

Howdy

Welcome to my ordinary, occasionally extraordinary life.

I am a mom, to two girls Kaitlyn (17) and Rebekkah (7), one boy Tucker (4) and Samantha, out 11ish year old yellow lab/golden retriever mix. My husband, Andrew, and I have been married for 11 years. 

I work part-time at a hospital and part-time at a nursing home. 

I run. I actually ran a half marathon (13.1 miles!!) on my birthday this past year. That was pretty amazing. 

I knit, sew, and will whole heatedly try just about any craft I see on Pinterest without really thinking the project through. Unsurprisingly, there have been some epic disasters - hot glue isn't really as permanent as one might think. And there is a slew of unfinished projects and supplies-in-waiting in my basement. If I tell you I am making you something, expect it to be finished in 10-12 years. 

I garden. Sort of. I bought some planter boxes, filled them with soil and tossed in some seeds. One bunch of carrots looks like it is doing well. The lettuce is finally growing, the onions and broccoli are not. The squash is vining out of the planter box (squash vines?) and my one cilantro plant is about two feet tall with pretty white flowers on top. I have actually already harvested six or eight radishes and a lot of peas. (I did plant 32 pea plants.) Our living room has a gorgeous bay window that I fantasize of filling with lush green plants. Luckily Home Depot has a steady supply of plants to replace the ones I regularly kill with my brown thumb. 

I was raised Catholic and refuse to burden my children with such a guilt ridden religion. For a long time, I swore off church and religion all together. My husband was raised Methodist in small town USA and had fond memories of his childhood there. Two years ago, I relented and agreed to find something that  made us both comfortable. Now we semi-regularly attend a Methodist church. The religion isn't in-your-face crazy and the people are great. 

I have some truly wonderful friends. Mostly other moms I have met on the bleachers and in the waiting rooms of my kids various extracurricular activities. But also some great people I have known since high school - classmates, teammates, soul mates and those I knew in passing and have grown to become friends with thanks to maturity and Facebook.

I am a bit of a slob, a procrastinator, a terrible speller, and in general, still amazed that the world considers me a grown-up.