Kid Camping
By Heather Curlee Novak
With all the monstrous highs and lows for Americans these
days, here is a crazy truth about our world: There is snow on the ground and
people are camping in it for fun. You
know, canvas tent-sleeping bag-peeing outside-heating up coffee on a firepit,
camping. A local Boy Scout troop was
snow camping just last weekend and my husband has shared a few stories about snow
camping, but I do not see the appeal.
I like camping. Or I
used too. When I was in my twenties my
dog Darby and I would drive to Estes Park, Colorado every summer to stay at
“Dreamland”, our family cabin. It’s an eighteen-hour
drive so I’d camp one night each way. I felt like a badass travelling solo;
setting and breaking camp, making a fire and eating what I could cook over it.
Cheaper than a hotel, too!
When I got married, we put camping gear on our wedding
registry and got it! Beautiful matching
Eddie Bauer sleeping bags with plaid flannel inserts. A new Coleman Camp stove. A tent big enough for two adults and two
dogs instead of my cute single girl pop up.
We used the gear…once. Or Twice.
Then we had kids.
Some parents are awesome outdoors people who could manage
taking little kids tent camping like my Dad.
Other parents, like us, are just tired.
We would occasionally admire our gear stowed in the basement. Once the girls were out of cloth diapers we
even planned a camping trip most summers.
We didn’t go. We liked the idea of camping.
This summer some friends talked about camping. We even got serious enough to try reserving a
spot but the campground was full. My friend Jen lives on the edge of our
neighborhood park, so Lucas and I plotted to spend the night in her yard in our
tents. It would be a hootenanny.
We dragged all the things from our homes to our makeshift
campsite. Stuff was bought to roast on sticks. Our site hostess actually
provided blow up mattresses for us.
There would be three adults and five children camping. Our spouses opted for real beds in real
houses. We razzed them, but since we
were the more awesome parent, we would let them go home at bedtime. This was a
mistake.
You see, the thing about camping is it looks fine as a
concept. Some grownups do not fare well
sleeping on the ground. Even with an air
mattress, it isn’t comfortable. I
discovered one cannot move around because sleeping in what is basically a
bounce house is noisy, awkward and no good.
The bugs were too loud. I was somehow hot and cold at the same
time. Our host’s son went inside to his
own bed right away, but our 8year old daughters and two remaining 6year olds were
still awake and talking at 1:05am. My
body ached from eating bags of salty chips. I’d lugged all this sssshload of
stuff out here, so who am I to call “uncle!” and give in? When one of the five kids in the huge kid
tent gets ‘punished’ by moving into your tent to sleep with you, you are
punished too. Trying to yell at the other
kids in the kid tent to be quiet without trying to get up off of the bounce house
bed (or waking up the kid sleeping with you) is…impossible.
Then the other six year old moved into his father’s
tent. I think they might have slept.
Around 2:10am I told Portia & Belle not one more peep. Guess what? PEEP. This sent Belle to her dad’s tent too. We were like parental body snatchers. Five
kids to start the night in the big tent and now only one left. In the morning she was gone too, headed
inside to sleep on the couch.
I hadn’t slept and wondered how soon I could just give up,
get up and go inside to make coffee. At 6:47am I wearily decided I was only
getting up and outta the tent one more time. Nature called, so GOOD MORNING. I staggered inside to make coffee and
breakfast. As we recounted the
experience and ate breakfast Jen said we should do it again soon. Bleary eyed
and frazzled I grumbled, “Never, never, never again!”. Later as we packed up our tents, deflated the
mattresses and stowed the gear I began to think….”Well, maybe…” But never with snow on the ground. Or bugs, or air mattresses, or children!
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