It is settled.
Camping is not my thing. In fact, I may never go again.
During high school, I decided that the most important reason for getting married was to be able to go camping whenever I wanted. (I have to admit that I am kind of a "princess" - though I am sure no one would ever describe me that way - so I knew early on that I needed to go camping with a man in order to feel completely safe.) Growing up, my immediate family did not go camping. But my uncles, aunts and cousins did. I never saw the packing and unpacking, only the glamorous and mouth-watering meals available as soon as I was hungry, the bikes, rafts, horses, body boards, toys, all ready and waiting for me to enjoy at my leisure. I only had to worry about getting my clothes and sleeping bag ready for the trip, and then show up.
My husband and I camped often before we had three children. I was usually pregnant or nursing, so my husband did the majority of the work. It has been two years since we have gone and now we have four children. Three weeks ago, my husband notified me that he would be in charge of our upcoming camping trip. He assured me that I should not worry about anything. I immediately relaxed. How nice!, I thought, and immediately reverted back to my pre-college-days mentality. That was a bad idea. Because then I was blamed for everything that was missing during our camping trip, like blankets, spoons, sunblock, chips for taco salad, can opener, you know, the somewhat really important items, but in all fairness, these were the items that my husband asked me to grab as we were getting into the car. "Couldn't you have helped me with anything?" my husband would ask over and over again.
At the end of the trip, my husband said, "Outside Mom should go camping with campers like you. She would be like Super Nanny - she would be so appalled by your lack of preparation." (This, by the way, I agree with completely.)
I love it. I mean, it is hilarious to think about the irony of the story as I write about it, but it was even more hilarious at the time. I laughed so much. My husband didn't laugh. He doesn't laugh at tragedy. Luckily I do. But, I still don't know if I will ever go camping again.
Maybe that can be THE bonding time for my husband and the kids.
Yes - they need that.
And I would totally support it.
And I think they would too.
On the way home, my husband kept saying, "That was so fun! When do you think we can go again?"
"Huh?" I kept thinking. (I did actually think it was really fun, but don't tell my husband that.)