“Roughing” It!

 

Against my body’s better judgement, I spent last night camping with my children. 

We own a twenty four-acre parcel of land up in Ashtabula County.  And the lot we live on in Portage County is five wooded acres.  So where did we decide to pitch our tent?  You guessed it- right smack dab next to the house.  I like the convenience of bathrooms, cold beer, and warm coffee  so the location worked for me. And the kids were just happy being outside.

I also like to be comfortable. After my 40+ years on Earth I have enough trouble with my back and legs after sleeping on a decent mattress,   let alone on the hard ground.  I had the bright idea of blowing up both of our air mattresses and wedging them in to the floor of our two-man tent.  They fit right in and I was optimistic about a decent night’s sleep. 

At dusk we gathered outside to enjoy a nice campfire (a Duraflame log in a portable fire pit purchased at Lowe’s).  We told stories, sang songs, and only went back inside to make popcorn in our Whirley Pop.  Once the kids started yawning I knew it was time to turn in.  We kissed Daddy and Grandma good night, brushed our teeth, and piled into the tent.

The four of us were packed into that two man tent like crayons in a crayon box.  Everyone wanted to sleep next to me so I ended up in the middle with the older children on both sides of me and the youngest on top of me.  We read books by lantern (a Coleman battery-operated one) until my eyes wouldn’t focus anymore.  Then it was lights out. 

The top of our tent was all screen mesh and we had a beautiful view of the night sky.  The moon was climbing its way up the treeline into our view.  The crickets and cicadas were loud and wonderful.  Unfortunately, the two air mattresses I had placed in the tent had separated and all of our rear ends were sitting on the cold, hard ground.  No amount of pulling or tugging would keep them together.  The youngest two children were able to fall asleep but Shelby and I tossed and turned.  Well, as much tossing as you can do when you are a crayon in a crayon box.  We did eventually fall asleep. 

Around 4am Shelby woke me up, saying “Mom… are those wolves that I hear?” I listened and told her that no, they were just coyotes.  This didn’t make her feel any better and she asked to go in the house.  I took her inside and tucked her in to her nice, soft bed.  I headed back outside.  I was able to watch the full moon track across the sky just by opening my eyes and looking up.  A few owls hooted back and forth to each other.  And it wasn’t long before the neighbor’s rooster announced that dawn was right around the corner.  At some point I drifted off to sleep and was awakened by my husband coming out onto the deck to tell me that the coffee was on.  Mmmmmm.  Warm coffee.

I moved my legs and my arms and was delighted to find that nothing hurt any more than it usually did.  The kids stirred and played nicely in the tent by themselves while Eddie and I had our first cup of coffee for the day. 

My thoughts turned to my family’s camping trips when I was a child.  We used to really rough it- lakeshore campgrounds with no electricity or running water on the sites.  You would make fires out of logs you bought at the camp store and out of sticks you gathered out in the forest.  There were no air mattresses or popcorn poppers, and the coffee that my parents would drink would be instant with non-dairy creamer in it.  I remember how hard my mom had to work to provide us with this nice experience; she would spend days packing ahead of time, she would do all the cooking and she would do all the cleaning up after dinner.  It certainly wasn’t any kind of vacation for her. 

It may be true that my idea of “roughing it” is not the same as my parent’s.  I’m sure when my children are older we’ll venture up to our other property and camp out away from all civilization.  But for now, everyone is contented with the backyard experience and that’s all that really matters.