The First Camping Trip of The Season

After the first round of vomiting I was ready to pack up and go. After the third round, my husband built a fire, and I was thinking, “What . . . are you doing.”  I grew up camping and all I ever remember is loving it. We caught lizards, got lost on hikes, roasted smores and could still move upon waking. These are great family memories for me. Sadly, this camping trip was not turning into one of those sweet memories. I spent the evening chasing my one year old, imagining all of the dangers lurking about for him. Not until he was fast asleep could I enjoy the fire rather than see it as my sons demise, or hear the rolling stream without visions of him falling in and never being found. It was a long wakeful night, as I held my son trying to keep the vomit on the dirt instead of the tent and blankets. I wasn’t loving it. I finally had everyone convinced we could leave but only after tears were shed at their disappointment. When the car didn’t start at 5:45 am and Jackson was tucked safely in his seat still throwing up; Well, you can imagine the rest.

As my daughter and I were chatting this afternoon she began telling me how much she loved the camping trip. Her favorite part was sleeping in the tent.  She confided to me, she couldn’t wait to go camping again. It was at this moment I realized I would go camping over and over again, because even if this trip wasn’t what I imagined, my children loved it. We were making memories. My parents did it for me and I want to do the same for my children. I’m sure in a few days when the sickness has cleared out and my sleep recouped; I might even be excited about it. I find sometimes we do things we don’t love for the people we do love.
You should know, my husband built that fire, because he knew it would make the kids happy and warm while we broke camp.  Such wisdom.