So! Last weekend we went camping.
And it was…kind of nice.
NEVER thought I’d be saying that.
Now I will be the first to admit that we had the most ideal conditions ever. First of all, the weather was gorgeous – sunny 100% of the time and warm, perfect for sitting in the shade at the campsite, lying in the sun on the beach, or taking a refreshing dip in the chilly lake. Second of all, everyone was healthy and happy and came to the event with a good attitude (well, the kids did, anyway). Thirdly, there were real-life bathrooms and they were kept really, really clean, surprisingly clean, and I was not squeamish at all about using them.
Fourthly, there were very, very few bugs. I KNOW.
That was my number one fear – especially after reading Andrea’s bug-related camping post from a couple of weeks ago. I brought six bottles of bug spray with us – SIX. I was dead serious about kicking some bug ass. But we saw no more than a handful of mosquitoes and flies the whole time – I think among all five of us there are at most 10 mosquito bites. I think we saw maybe two spiders, no bees or wasps. The beach was completely bug free, and my worst heebie-jeebie fear of all – bugs in the shower area – was a total non-issue. Super clean bug-free showers. LOVE.
By far the best thing about camping was this: approximately every 30 seconds, one of our children would declare, “This is the BEST DAY EVER,” or alternately, “You are the best Mom and Dad EVER.” Then Jeff Probst would stride into camp with his blue shirt and baseball hat and present me with the People’s Choice Award for Most Ultimately Amazing And Cool Mother Ever.
It was pretty awesome.
So I guess all this means that we will go camping again, someday. I doubt I’ll ever be an enthusiastic camper, but I’d go again, maybe once a summer. If only to catch up with Jeff and tell him that his tooth/shell necklace is getting a little dated.
On the other hand…
There’s a secret part of me that believes that there’s a camping goddess, and she’s evil (of course), and when she found out that I, of all people, was going camping, she used her black magic to orchestrate a perfect weekend in which everything would go perfectly right. Then she’d cackle to herself softly about how another family has been sucked in, and how we will worship her by faithfully booking a site every single year for the next 20 years, vainly trying to recreate that first perfect weekend, while she rains on us and hails on us and sends plagues of blackflies.
It can never be this good again, can it? Maybe we really should quit while we’re ahead.