They Want To Take Me Glamping

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!

Glamping_ifitshipitshere

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.

Right?

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. )

Yes indeedy!

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Morning Bugs

You know those weeks where you fly out of bed Monday morning rarin’ to go and realize about, oh, say, Wednesday, that you’ll be danged lucky to still be alive come Friday morning?  Yeah. It’s been one of those.  Only, without the morning bugs. Thankfully.  But more on that in a moment, because I’m just sure all 9 of you are dying to know what morning bugs are (they aren’t), and why they’ve taken up residence with us (they haven’t).

Our church has been hosting their VBS this week and I foolishly enthusiastically agreed to help. Again.  It’s so rewarding.  And I love the little smiles on all of the little faces each morning. But Sweet Exhaustion, am I toast when I get home.  (Once you hit 40, it’s frightening the lengths your body will go to remind you that you are no longer 25.)  Alas…

Some sweet friends of ours, that happen to live right down the street, invited us to come down and take a dip in their pool.  It was a hot and humid day today, (and in case I missed the weather report about it being hot and humid, my hair was practically screaming about the humidity!), so we were practically at their door before hanging up the phone.

Everyone was ready to splish and splash as soon as the floaties were put into place and the goggles were righted. The only thing that baffled me was when Sweetgirl whipped out her big paintbrush.  To play with. In the pool.  My sweetchildren certainly are special gifts from God.  How they come up their ideas of fun, I have no idea. Really. I did not teach them that paintbrushes were appropriate pool toys. At least, I don’t think I did…

When we finally packed up to start the long walk home, (all four houses down, that is), Sweetboy noticed the beautiful coos coming from the Morning Doves in the trees.  And so he said, “I just love those Morning Bug sounds, Mama.”

And there you have it.  Morning bugs.  Only not.  Indeed.