Labor Day '08

Last week, I was speaking to my mother, letting her know that we would be camping over the Labor Day weekend. She scoffed and asked me why Clint makes me go camping when I don't enjoy it. I explained to her that I enjoy certain aspects of camping, but overall, no, it's not my preference to spend three days peeing on a fallen tree and picking bark out of the back of my thighs. After speaking with her, I realized that I should let Clint know how I felt about this hobby of his. I'm not sure what my true intentions were for speaking up; I think I was trying to passive aggressively tell him "See! See what I do for you because I love you!? See the sacrifices I make so that you can take part in what you deem to be "a relaxing vacation" but what I see as a "bark in my butt" adventure?" We sat down to discuss our trip, and I ended up disclosing my closely guarded feelings about camping. I told Clint that I really don't like to go camping, and could think of no fewer than 7 things I'd rather do over the Labor Day weekend. He promptly told me he didn't believe me because each time we had gone in the past, he knew I had a great time. I guess my tolerable attitude towards the entire event lead him to believe that I was roaring to go every time.

I should be more clear about the certain aspects of enjoyment I was referring to. They are, in no particular order, the food and the family. I tolerate the camping so that I can eat all day long (our food while camping is gourmetish), and laugh my butt off at Draney antics. But, I feel strongly that the amount of work performed while camping far exceeds the amount of relaxation that occurs. Now, I should be clear; most of the work isn't performed by me. Clint does the set up, take down, and the other abundant manly chores, and my MIL does most of the meal preparation. I'm usually in charge of keeping the camping chairs warm, or delegating tasks, which usually takes place from said camping chairs.

So, here's a quick run down of my weekend. You tell me if I'm right in my beliefs, or if I'm just a big whiny sack of poo.





This picture was taken from a moving car, which accounts for the blurriness.

It took us 40 minutes to drive 5 miles. It could have been avoided if we had packed lighter which would have helped us to leave before 5pm, but instead, it took us 3 hours to pack; I bring EVERYTHING since being in the middle of the woods 40 minutes away from the nearest store makes me feel like I have NOTHING. Clint's all for camping with whatever he can carry on his back, but he's had to make certain concessions for me and my suburban ways. I'll never understand those campers who strap on their chacos, pocket a granola bar, and call themselves ready.

Our campsite was a 30 minute drive off a dirt/jagged rock road which was not intended by God to be driven upon. We forged ahead and created our own campsite where no man had set foot before. Okay, I'll admit it was very nice to not worry that I'd run into another neighboring camper while doing my business.

After we arrived, which was around 9pm Friday night, Clint immediately started to set up shop. I asked him to hand me the suitcase that housed all of our clothing so I could put a jacket on Emma. Clint's face held a look of terror; he had forgotten to pack the suitcase. Conveniently though, Clint's backpack, which held his own clothing, was located amongst our belongings. Friday night was spent sleeping in our clothing we had worn that day.

Saturday was beautiful. Unfortunately, Clint and I were not able to enjoy the beauty of the day from the vantage point of the woods. Our morning was spent driving back out on the dirt road, that God did not intend to be driven on, to go purchase clothing for myself and my children.

4 hours later (yes, 4 HOURS!), we were back at our campsite, having driven back on the dirt road that God did not intend to be driven on, with Walmart sweat suits, underwear, socks, shoes, pants, jackets, etc. It was very tough to spend money on this pair of shoes.

Heck, it was hard to spend money on any of the items we bought. I had purchased for myself one shirt and a pair of jeans, both of which I knew I would not wear again. In the end, I wore the pants, shirt, and socks I arrived in, all weekend long so that I could return the unworn merchandise. I willed myself to deal with the stench of 3 day old pants, which had turned into a collage of many different patterns, weaving their way across my legs and lap, mostly consisting of Asher's nose drippage.

Okay, I do have to admit that Saturday afternoon was gorgeous and relaxing. Our dutch oven dinner and dessert were heavenly. Fine, 1 point to camping.

And then the rain came.

Saturday night was spent with the plink plink plink of rain all night long on our tent. We stayed warm and dry, and after waking Sunday morning, we were planning to hang out in our tent for awhile and wait for the storm to pass. It didn't pass, and about 10 minutes after waking, our tent started leaking. Rain had started to come in from the top and bottom of our tent. We quickly folded our blankets and sleeping bags, all the while yelling at our kids to stop playing in the water because they were going to get their socks wet and I didn't want to open up the package of socks I had purchased for Emma because I wanted my money back, and in my haste to leave Walmart, I had forgotten to purchase socks for Asher.

Sunday morning was spent in my SIL's pop up watching The Incredibles (they camp in style), while the rain continued on and on until I wanted to shove crickets in my ears so that I would have something new to listen to.

We did eventually brave the elements to spend some time underneath tarps.

Though, I do have to give 1 more point to camping because breakfast and lunch were fabulous. I'm telling you, food is a large motivator for me. I'll poo in the woods if you make me a breakfast burrito.

Ugg, I'll also admit that Sunday afternoon, after the rain let up, was lovely and relaxing. It was so much fun to watch Asher follow his cousins around and act goofy with them. It's much easier in that aspect than being home. It wasn't necessary to entertain him; he was contented to just run around. That was a great highlight. The filth wasn't.

Honestly though, the real reason I deal with the hassle of camping is because of the pure, unadulterated laughter that flows so easily all weekend long. The main reason I go camping is encapsulated in this one picture.

We ended up leaving late Sunday night since we did not have a functional tent. I'm sure Clint could have figured something out in the way of leak proofing it, but he was sweet/smart enough not to suggest it.


I guess, begrudgingly, I have to admit that I liked camping.



But don't tell Clint I said that.

If you've got a second, look over these pages. It's a form of the telephone game. Each person has a piece of paper to start out with, and they write a saying, quote, etc on the top of the page. The paper is then passed to the right, and that person has to then draw out what the saying, quote, etc means on the paper they've just received from their neighbor. The paper is then folded over so that the saying, quote, etc is hidden, and the paper is again passed to the right. At that point, all you have is a picture that is supposed to be descriptive enough so you can figure out what the original saying, quote, etc. was. You write down your best guess, fold the paper over so that the picture is now hidden, and pass it again to your right. It will then be passed around, and continuously folded over, until you have your own paper back in your hands. After sharing with each other what crazy interpretations we came up with, I think I laughed so hard a little bit of pee came out.



I sure have used pee and poo quite a few times in this post.