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Let Me Count the Ways
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It Takes a Campsite
This past weekend, we headed off for a long weekend of camping at the coast. Four couples, four kids, some sunshine, some fog, plenty of sand, geocaching, long walks, campfires, kite flying, and too much food and drink.
And then there was me. I was the crazy lady yelling at her kids. Sigh. Let me back up. This trip was my idea. I conceptualized it, sent out an email invite to friends, reserved the campsites, coordinated all of the prep and packing, etc., etc. I love camping, especially at the coast. Especially when we can poach part of our friend’s tent trailer and sleep on a mattress instead of the ground. Now, stop wrinkling your nose. I used to backpack 5 miles into the hills for “roughing it” camping. That was all BK (before kids). Now, it is more important to be well-rested and comfortable. Well-rested so that, apparently, I can reserve my energy to spend the entire next day shaking my head, talking to myself, and…well…yelling at my kids. Don’t get me wrong. The trip was great. Everyone had fun. We decompressed and relaxed. We laughed. We played on the beach. However, my kids have suddenly learned to erode every layer of patience that I have been building up for all of my 35 years. It was in-cred-i-ble the number of situations the two of them could find to fight over or get under my skin about. There were fights over sharing, over who could walk the dog, over who got to sit in the red kid’s chair (it was exactly like the other red chair—I did this on purpose, I’m no rookie), over wanting a hot dog not chili, over wanting to wear crocs not sneakers, over wanting to take a shower with Dad not Mom, over not wanting to take a nap, over and over and over and over. Ugh. Paul and I were totally defeated. We sounded like disengaged, cranky parents. No, wait...we were disengaged cranky parents. Thank goodness our friend Shannan was there. She was awesome at redirecting the kids and getting them to tow the line. More than once, she intervened to break up a squabble. She did this long after I was numb to the fighting and whining. So numb I did nothing--not even yell. Now, her three-year-old was doing his best to drive her over the edge, but with my girls…she was wonderful. So, maybe it’s true..it does take a village to raise a child. Or at least a campsite with good friends and their comfortable tent trailer. 6 comments from 6 users
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posted by
MamaSeaShell
on Aug 20, 2008 at 11:52 AM
Oh my goodness I love your blog. What a wonderful story. :)
posted by
creatress
on Aug 20, 2008 at 12:25 PM
My favorite is when kids fight over things that aren't even real. We had one at work last week where the kids were fighting (physically) over where the big playground climbing truck was going. One said Disneyland, the other said the Zoo. I will never get what goes on in their heads. I hope all that fighting made them sleep well! I'm always surprised by what an "outdoor girl" you are. You strike me as the type who'd rather share a suite next to mine at the Hyatt. Hahaha. posted by
hmoeckli
on Aug 20, 2008 at 03:36 PM
I have not yet tried camping with my daughter. I loved it BK but it was exhausting enough when it was just me and my husband. It was amazing that we escaped each trip mostly healthy, safe, and unscarred. Well, I came out unscarred; Justin...not so much. You are a brave woman for camping with your daughters. And you are a great mom for letting them have these experiences. :) posted by
lmkoster99
on Aug 20, 2008 at 11:02 PM
Love it, Amanda!!
posted by
ktja
on Aug 20, 2008 at 11:40 PM
Serenity now....serenity now. I bet you were happy to go back to work so you could relax!
posted by
kellimwheeler
on Aug 21, 2008 at 10:54 AM
May peace be with you. At least you weren't like the dad on our camping trip who kept following his two year old son around all weekend imploring, "Stay out the dirt!"
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