Camping

After dinner last night, we took our little man outside for a walk. He didn't want any part of a walk - nope. He was all about pushing a little car around the walk and porch. He was having a good time, so the walk was put on hold. The car thing lasted for only a bit, but since we abandoned the walk plan, Todd had already started raking the lawn. Which left Timmy and I to play. He walked around the house looking for trouble, then we helped rake. Timmy was having such a great time outside, that getting him inside for a bath and bedtime was a real nightmare. He had a serious fit, a drop to the ground in protest kind of fit. It was ugly and continued on through the first 5 minutes of the bath.

I said to Todd tonight, "How do you think Timmy would do camping?" Todd's response, "It would be a nightmare. We won't be doing that this year." When I asked this, it was in response to the whole being outside experience tonight. He loves being outside, it's the part where we have to go inside that he's not so in love with. I can only imagine what it would be like in a tent. Would he get any sleep at all? Would he scream in protest of sleep? Would wild animals think it was a new animal call?

I went camping (real camping in a tent) for the first time in my life in the Fall of 2000. My parents are motorhome people, so that was the only kind of camping I did growing up.

(last motorhome trip with parents & brother in 2002)

Motorhome camping is pretty nice, and a good way to go, if you have the money to do it. We, unfortunately do not. Anyway, I had a really nice time. In true Chrissy fashion, however, I made Todd get up in the middle of the night and walk with me to the bathroom. We haven't been camping since then. I'm not really sure why we haven't done it again. We enjoy doing things like that with other people, so I am pretty sure having babies, scheduling conflicts, and life in general got in the way.

I have a theory of camping, that was put to the test on that first trip. Camping scares me, and this is why....In our homes, we go to great lengths to keep ourselves protected from criminals (bad people, in general, if you will). We spend thousands of dollars on top notch security systems, we double check the doors before we go to bed at night, we make sure all the windows are locked - all of this to make ourselves feel safer. Then, one nice weekend, we decide to take our families and our nylon tent camping. We have a great time, we hike, we build a campfire, we have a cookout, we even make s'mores. When all the good times are said and done, we crawl into our nylon tents, zip them up, and hunker down for the night. All that stands between us and the mass murderer in the mood to take a few people out is a thin piece of nylon and a zipper. I ask you, does that feel safe to you? If I really stop and analyze this, I just don't understand how I can rationalize going camping ever again. I mean really, have any of you out there thought the same thing?

This is the way my mind works. I scare myself silly sometimes. This is the exact reason that I can not watch horror movies. My mind just goes nuts with all kinds of reasons why the exact same thing will happen to me.

All of that following a simple "we played outside last night intro." Did you get more than you bargained for?