Wednesday, June 8, 2011


This weekend we took our new, still un-named fishing boat out to the lake for Baby Brown Eyes' first camping experience.

I have this idea in my head that any family outing that requires as much preparation and planning as camping does had better go perfectly. Without a hitch. We laugh, we smile, we bond by the campfire. And when we look back on the weekend, our minds are warmed with nothing but sweet, pleasant memories.

I think I have set my expectations a little too high.

Before we'd even started packing Friday morning Baby was crabby. And so was I. I was in a hurry to get going, even though we had absolutely no reason why we shouldn't take our time; we didn't want to get to the lake in the heat of the day. But Baby wouldn't let me set him down to do anything. So I nagged my husband. Oh, I was horrific. The Queen of the Nags. Poor Mr. Brown Eyes.

We were on the last leg of our journey, driving up the lake road, when we realized we needed a Tonto Pass so we had to turn around and drive several miles back the way we came to get one. When Mr. Brown Eyes put our boat on the water, the motor was smoking something fierce. This is it, I thought. We've come all this way and now our boat's going to break down and strand us. But Mr. Brown Eyes got it fixed and we boated out to our little island...where we found boy scouts everywhere and a sign that said "No Campfires."

Have you ever gone camping without a campfire? It's just not right. Campfires are an American pastime, like apple pie. S'mores and foil dinners just aren't the same when they're cooked over a grill. Without a campfire, you just go to bed when the sun goes down. There's nothing else to do.

Oh, and I spilled hot foil-dinner juice on my lap, which caused me to jump to my feet and shout a not-nice word. Which made Baby Brown Eyes cry. I had to stuff ice packs down my pants to soothe the pain.

You're probably wondering why I even like camping at all.

Here are a few reasons why.

The Brown-Eyed Girl


Kolena locksa said...

I'm sorry, but I loled at the part of you spilling hot foil dinner juice in your lap. I'm such a bad sister. :p

Rachel K said...

It's ok. It was really funny. Once it stopped hurting.