Camping Is Poopy
I have . . . memories of camping. The word "fond" had to be left out of that sentence because there's nothing "fond" about those memories, unless "fond" has been redefined to mean "OMG PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME DO THAT EVER AGAIN."
Ahem.
Long ago, in a land far away, my family would travel an hour south of Minot, North Dakota to a tiny little campgrounds on the shores of the Missouri River. We would pitch our navy blue tent amidst a sea of similar tents and campfires (Campfire Bananas, anyone?) and a few signs of civilization. We had a water pump and real working bathrooms, so it wasn't so much "roughing it" as it was "suffering through a few days without TV."
Which, we didn't have cable when I was a kid. TV was stupid without cable back in the olden days, so I never watched it. Really, there wasn't much suffering involved.
And, yet, I hated camping. Or at least I have re-written history to say I hated it. I'm sure that cramming two adults and two children into a tent made for some cramped quarters. I'm sure the air mattress we slept on was less than ideal. I'm absolutely positive that the weather wasn't usually all that cooperative. But, still, there is only one thing I can say that is absolutely the entire reason I hate camping.
Poop.
As in, one clear sunny day, I was swimming in the Missouri River and I saw a piece of human poop float by. It was within arms length of where I was standing, but not for long because HOOOOO! WHO KNEW I KNEW HOW TO SWIM THAT FAST? Michael Phelps couldn't have caught me as I fought my way to shore.
I never entered those waters again. And, to this day, I still hate camping. I know it's illogical. I don't care. Camping is poopy, dammit. I don't need to relive it to know it.
Imagine my glee when Alexis and Mr. Husband conspired and decided to buy a tent.
Oh, yes, they did.
I made it really very clear that I wanted nothing to do with their shenanigans. I like climate control and sleep and comfy beds and, wait, did I mention that I like sleep? I don't imagine that much sleep would happen if my night were filled with pooptacular nightmares. That's what would happen if I slept in a tent, you know. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder would rear its ugly head and I'd be forced to relive that horrific day over and over and over.
No thank you.
My resistance resulted in the two of them adapting their conspiracy so that it was a bit more reasonable. They decided to camp in our very own backyard. To that I say, GOOD LUCK. There shouldn't be any poop floating by back there, but there are herds of deer that walk through, more toads than I want to think about, and a lovely collection of stinkbugs. I made it very clear that they were welcome to enjoy the great outdoors, but I'd be sleeping in my own bed, oh and take the dogs with you, pleaseandthankyouverymuch.
So, they did.
They camped outside Friday night and they were kind enough to take the dogs with them.
They left me in the house. Alone. Well, the cats were there, but the cats don't follow me around snorting and snoring and farting and generally grossing me out like the bulldog does.
You guys, THEY LEFT ME IN THE HOUSE BY MYSELF.
I got eight whole hours of uninterrupted sleep. No kid wrapped around my head. No dog butts in my face. No flailing man twisting the covers into a useless ball of suck. No snoring. No kicking. Just beautiful, sweet silence.
It was the greatest night of my life. I know that I'm a loser for feeling that way, but I don't care. IT WAS AMAZING.
I love camping now. All it took was for me to get to sleep in my own bed.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Reader Comments (10)
Aaaaawwwww, I love camping and especially the few times I've done it with my daughter (18 now). It can be uncomfortable for the unprepared but the fun part for me was meeting all the challenges. When Americans go stupid, like I did, we bring generators and all kinds of ridiculous things with us to the point of why not stay at home. That said, it's cool to get out there and just have the relationships with your loved ones sans 21st century distractions and talk around the fire. Just me...keep on keeping on!
@Hutch Jr--But we can do the talk-around-the-fire thing without having to sleep on the cold, hard ground! We build fires a couple of nights each week and when we're done, I end up in my bed. Where I belong. ;-)
I have a great many feelings about camping but that would require a lot of words and probably should reside on my own blog instead of clogging up your comments (not that that ever stops me from going on and on). I will say that camping with small children doesn't sound like fun. And I've told my husband he is welcome to take the girls but that I'm not going at this exact point in time. However, I will admit that I encourage it solely because I dream of the great sleep I might achieve when left alone in my house.
The husband and I camped for a month straight around the country early in our relationship. Our honeymoon was camping on the beach. We've hiked mountains and slept on rocks with howling winds. In short, I. Love. Camping.
But camping with kids? OMFingHell! Maybe it will get better as they get older, but there is nothing fun about freezing all night, shoved up against the damp side of the tent and off the pad while two little egg-beaters steal the sleeping bags and shove their feet in your face and then wake up chipper with the sun.
The thought of sleeping ALONE in the house for a solid night may have been the driving force behind me attempting to get the girls to camp out in the backyard with the husband ALL SUMMER. It still hasn't happened.
Big win for you. Maybe this can become their special weekly thing until it snows or something. Imagine. 8 hours . . . every week . . .
I have always hated camping so when Scott mentions it I explain the he has years of camping adventures with the kids in his future while I stay home alone or go on a civilized adventure of my own.
Now that's MY kind of camping! When my husband decides it's time to start that time-honored tradition with our sons, I will HAPPILY be staying behind. Male bonding, and all.
horse poop. human poop. you are a poop magnet, my friend!
That would be a great night of camping. Hooray for uninterrupted sleep!
I like a bed and a bathroom. "Real" camping does not include either of those things; therefore, it will take a lot to get me on board. Never say never.
Totally not camping related, but I now understand your lines about sleeping with a kid wrapped around your head. Any chance this started around age three... because last night... let's just say I understand your sleep issues on a whole new level.
New sleepingbags with windchill ratings to -100 for everyone! Here's to having every Friday night from now until summer all to your very self. :)