At about 2 am on Sunday night, you might have heard a scream resonating from some forest far away that sounded like a crazed woman yelling “I’ll never camp again. Get me in the car and take me home-now!” But with good reason. The kids were waking up every 20 minutes, they were a little snotty, and it was really, really cold. My hubby gave me a kiss, handed me a flashlight to read my novel and said I’d be fine in the morning. And I was. And when we woke up to sunny skies, a campfire and a s’more for breakfast, it wasn’t so bad after all.
We had taken the ferry to Kingston to drive to Fort Flagler on a camping trip we’d been planning for weeks on what was supposed to be a sunny weekend, but it was still drizzling when we got off the ferry and rolled into our campsite. The kids seemed to be fighting a yucky summer cold, but we decided that we’d just roll with it and we could always come home. We made a lot of simple meals over the fire and on our old camping stove from the pre-baby days. And I was pleasantly surprised that we were not actually in the wilderness-there was a hut that sold coffee, ice cream and even hot food on a grill.
The kids loved riding their trikes and playing with the toys we brought,
and just being outdoors.
The second night, everyone was exhausted and we all slept like babies.
As for me, I still think camping is a little like being in a dirt/animal/ bug-filled hotel without walls and with communal toilets (blech!) but this time it was also really really fun. We may just have to try it again next summer, (maybe sooner.)