My husband was a camper as a kid right up until he married me. And even for the first year before kids and up to our second kid we camped a couple of times. I had never been camping as a kid and was fascinated by the idea! Well, now that we have 4 kids, one of whom is EXTREMELY busy, I am not so fond of the idea.
Whenever he talks about camping I just look at him and say, “Honey, why would I go on “vacation” to work harder than I do at home.” My idea of vacation is going somewhere the beds are “pre-maid” and magically made for you every day while you are out. Not packing my own bedding and mattress and assembling them in a hut I can’t even stand up in when we get there. My idea of vacation is not taking a shower bag down the street to take a shower in a box that sprays luke warm water and my flip flops must remain on my feet at ALL times. Or having to stumble across the grassy way with a flashlight in my hand just to “tinkle” in the middle of the night where I have to line the toilet seat with toilet paper at 3 AM. Or escort my kids across the grassy way to the bathroom in the night. At home they handle all that themselves, I barley hear the toilet flush. Oh yes and while we are at it, as if dishes aren’t annoying enough to wash with electricity and hot water, lets wash them with out power in buckets just for “FUN”. So this past weekend when our extended family planned a “family” camping trip just 35 min from my house. Yup, you guessed it. Michael and our older 3 kids roughed it, while Bo and I went up during the day and came home to our bed at night. I put Bo in bed at 11pm and he woke up at 11am. I slept in a cool comfy bed in a room about 72 degrees, listening to the hummmm of my ceiling fan. Mike and the kids. Well, they were sleeping in a bed of sand, in a room of 82 degrees, listening to the hummmmmm of mosquitoes looking for a midnight snack. And from the looks of all of them when I arrived the next day, they were the buffet of choice.