our camping trip was ... not at all terrible!

We went camping last weekend. It was our first camping trip as a family of four (and a (furry) half). When we got back, DM, always scheming, said, "maybe we should start writing off our trips as a business expense, since you're going to write about them anyway, and obviously you're going to become totally famous and get a book deal." Riiiiiiiiight. Aside from the fact that he is on crack (and crack is whack), the weekend was totally uneventful (in the best way) and I don't really even have anything to write about. But don't worry! I won't let that stop me! :)

As with all things involving my children, it was totally great, until it wasn't. Seriously, this exact same thought process happens to basically every time we take the kids anywhere (out to dinner, across the country, to another country, etc.):

Preparing to leave - For the love of God and everything holy. This is an enormous pain in the a$$. WHY does it take 3 pounds of stuff per pound of child to get out the freaking door?

Getting there - Where's the Valium (or the Cyanide, depending on the length of the trip)?

After arriving and getting settled - Okay, that wasn't so bad. Actually this is kind of great. Totally worth it. We should do this way more often.

One hour later - This is terrible. What were we thinking?

Thirteen minutes after that - Seriously, please, somebody murder me.

Twenty-seven minutes later (after getting the kids' blood sugar levels and mom and dad's blood alcohol content up to par) - Okay. Okay. We're going to be okay. This is going to be nice. We are going to have fun, dammit! Yo! Gonna need a top-off over here! (Side story. When DM and I lived in the Virgin Islands for a short while, our landlord (who, b.t.w., had three piercings in his junkular region) had a buddy named Greggo. Greggo was 63% creep and 100% drunk, neither of which was completely out of the ordinary for a male living in the Islands ("the odds are good, but the goods are odd"). He carried, at all times, an assortment of female thongs in his backpack - new and unused (I think?) in a rainbow of colors and sizes. He was nothing if not prepared. He would try to coax/bully women into going nude at the beach, and if that didn't work, topless with a thong. "No tan lines, Mon!" If your excuse was, "Gosh darnit, I left my thong at home this morning," Never fear! Greggo had a spare! Greggo had many thongs, but two jokes. One was to say, while sitting on some of the most breathtakingly beautiful beaches on the planet, "I hate this beach! This beach sucks!" again. And again. And again.... The other was to say, "I need a top-off! Get it? Get it? Top. Off? Because I need a refill on my drink, but also, I want you to take your top off?????" So anyway, now whenever DM and I need a refill we say we need a "top-off.")

Okay. So. Anyway. Our camping trip was not at all terrible, which is basically a ringing endorsement. I grew up camping and hiking and spending a lot of time outdoors, so it made me feel really good and brought back a flood of fond memories when the kids just ate it up. Obviously, too, car camping is barely camping and makes it 900 times easier, especially with the littles. And, two of our favorite restaurants were within walking distance (one of them is right on the campground!) Plus it's a 5 minute drive from our house, and right on the ocean. So it's not like we were roughing it. My parents would probably be ashamed (they were pretty hardcore) but I kind of liked it this way :) And it was this whole little community. They may or may not have been able to survive in the wild, but man, these people were pros! They could car-camp like royalty. We definitely looked like amateurs. Our neighbors even made jambalaya with fresh seafood one night! God knows how they did that on a camp stove but God bless 'em! And there were kids everywhere, biking and scootering and running amok. It was just a really neat scene.

Of course, we had our share of public psychopathy, but that's par for the course. And despite the fact that entire forests spontaneously combust and burn to ashes in a day, it took us an hour the first night to get a fire going, with fire starter sticks and matches. Also, I don't think my kids have ever been dirtier in the entirety of their short existence on this planet, but I actually sort of loved that part (I just didn't want them to touch me :)) Especially for Prince Jackson (I mean my prince, not Prince-brother-of-Blanket-Jackson), who normally loses his sh*t when a speck of dirt, sand or water sullies his hands, and shares his mother's obsession with Clorox wipes. The novelty wore off after approximately 24 hours for J and he started saying he missed "home" (a.k.a. "his" iPad and Little Einsteins), but all in all, it was a great weekend, and DM and I both agreed that we should do it again very soon :)

Note - It has been 5 days since our return and my children still smell vaguely of campfire. I'll leave it to you to draw your own conclusions about family hygiene and the care with which we bathe our children.