 |
| Too luxurious. |
Tired of the same old, comfortable king sized bed in climate-controlled conditions with the soft static of the baby monitor that lulls you to sleep the same way it has for the last 3 years? Tired of having the convenience of a refrigerator groaning with every imaginable kind of comestible and condiment known to modern man? Okay, I'm not either. But I went camping anyway with my beautiful daughter and beautiful husband, who both appeared to enjoy themselves immensely--except for that one night that my daughter and I high-tailed it out of there at midnight because it was too damn cold and the packed ground beneath us cradled our bodies like a rhinoceros might cradle an egg. The husband, it seems, maintained enough of a warm glow from imbibing alcohol that he was able to stay the night in relative comfort despite the 30-something degree weather (that's in Fahrenheit, my international comrades).
 |
| Lesson 1: Bring all bedding imaginable. |
This was our first time camping as adults, so I spent the preceding week furiously scribbling detailed lists, googling "How to clean dishes while camping" (answer: bring paper plates), and erecting and breaking down various borrowed tents in the backyard. Upon arriving at the campsite with a barrage of cardboard boxes and backpacks, I quickly realized that the question is not, "Will I forget to pack something?" but rather, "What will I forget to pack?" In my case, it was, "a personality." I had poured so much of my effort and mental capacity into camping preparations, that I forgot to prepare myself for socializing with people and making interesting conversation. Next time, I think I will risk forgetting the can opener in lieu of bringing some conversation topic flash cards.
 |
| The trailer is not ours. Nor is the dog. |
One thing I did not anticipate was how flipping cold it would get at night. I dressed Q and I in double layers of clothing, and we huddled under our sleeping bags and layers of blankets. Unfortunately, the cold meant that Q asked to go to the bathroom about 3 times within the first couple of hours of nightfall, which meant climbing out of our beds, putting on winter jackets, and shivering all the way to the small brick structures that housed the bathrooms and showers (which were nice and clean, by the way, and always had adequate toilet paper and soap).
I also realized at some point that my insulin pump and pod were not supposed to get down to freezing, or the insulin might freeze and the pump could malfunction. I could put the pump in my pocket so it could be warmed against my skin, but then I would undoubtedly spend the night carefully trying not to roll over on my thousand-dollar equipment. When Q finally said she would like to sleep at home at around midnight, I was only too happy to comply.
 |
| Now with gluten-free graham crackers! |
But lest you think it was a dizzying swirl of nightmares, it was not. Q was able to tentatively gain some freedoms she had not yet had (walking to the small playground with some older kids, and roasting her own marshmallows, to name a couple). There were campfire discussions with real live adults, Steven cooking breakfast over a cast-iron skillet, both of us learning what making a fire entailed (somewhat), and the knowledge that if there were ever an apocalypse situation and we had to leave the city, we could probably survive by our wits for a solid 48 hours. If I have a week to pack beforehand.
Q has not stopped asking to go camping since, and I think we just might accommodate her sometime soon.
 |
| The only photographic evidence that I ever went camping. |
