Sparkles wants me and the kids to join her when she takes the kids on her annual camping trip this summer. I told her no.
Boy, that could be the shortest blog post ever.
But then, she recruited two of her friends that I think are the Awesome Sauce, to work on me, too.
I hemmed and hawed. But, after a glass of wine, I said “Sure!”
The next morning, I regretted that decision.
Not the wine.
The agreeing to the camping.
You see, I am not a camper. In fact, if anything, I think of myself as more of a glamper.
“What’s glamping?”, you ask? Let me help you out here. According to Mr. Google, glamping is “luxury camping.”
Like, this here. Is this what you meant, Sparkles? Because if it is, then this is totally what I’m talkin’ about!
Right about now, Captain Ahab is spitting out his Dr. Pepper and exclaiming, “What the what?! She is totally a camper!”
Nope. I’m not. I only pretended, Dad, because I loved spending time with you! So there. (Why, yes, I am 41.)
Anywho, Sparkles and Company convinced me that we would have So Much Fun because the kids would all entertain each other, and, nature! We’d only be a short walk to proper “facilities”, if you’re trackin’ me. (I’ve determined that to be no more than 5 feet from my tent.) They also lured me with offers of hot coffee each morning and cold beverages each night. One of these dears even promised that I wouldn’t have to set up my own tent. (And, for everyone involved’s sanity, I am totally holding her to that one.) And look, nature!
Throw in all the talk of smores, and you can easily see how I was sold.
So, sometime around the end of summer, I may or may not survive a camping trip that includes my two children, no husband, some friends, and a LOT of chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. And adult beverages.
(Plus, I have three months to figure out how to rig a fan up without electricity, relearn how to fall asleep in a sleeping bag shaped like a cocoon, and develop a thing-a-ma-bob that emits a sound that only bears and coyotes and snakes and bugs and spiders can hear and not like, thus forcing them to go find another campsite to visit. Easy peezy. I’ll keep you posted. )