Camping

I’ve been camping all my life.  Not ‘hike through the woods to the top of a mountain and find a place for your tent’ camping… More like, ‘rent a square where you can legally set up a tent in a pre-designated spot near public bathrooms and showers’ camping.

Camping as a kid was vastly different than camping as an adult.  As a kid, we rode our bikes around the campground, made new friends, and experienced a level of freedom that wasn’t allowed at home.  We swam in the lake and bought junk food from the camp store and stayed up as late as our parents and played with fire.  It was awesome.

Camping as an adult is still awesome, but in a totally different, labor-intensive sort of way.

Preparing for camping is intense.  You literally have to pack every single thing you might need to care for a family. First aid kit?  Check.  Bathing suits, towels, underwear?  Check. Spatula?  Soap?  Salt? How about actual SHELTER?  Because you’ll need to pack that, too.  Games, matches, stove, pots, bowls, utensils… it’s an endless, mind-numbing list.

And that’s not even considering the FOOD.  Not only do you have to plan meals that can be prepared on two burners and a fire pit, but you have to pack all of the things that typically reside in your kitchen cabinets to help you complete this task.  Foil.  Oil. Butter.  Garlic.  Onion powder. Paprika.  Whatever.

Preparing for a camping trip is NOT a vacation.

And of course, the chances are, if you’re camping, you’re bringing your children. There’s an article somewhere in the Onion, I think, entitled, “Mom Spends Beach Vacation Assuming all Household Duties in Closer Proximity to Ocean.” The first time I saw that, I practically spit out my coffee.  Because, of course, if one’s children are ALSO on vacation with you, you don’t get a vacation from parenting.

But the cool thing about camping is that you can revert back to your PARENTS’ style of parenting. Remember?  1970s and 80s parenting?  You can send your children out to play and explore and basically not worry about them until they return looking for snacks.  You can let them be dirty without judgement because you’re camping, for goodness’ sake!  You can feed them hot dogs and potato chips for three days straight.  You can let them start the fire, because they’re learning a LIFE SKILL, goddamn it!  And all the while, you can sit by a fire with your choice of adult beverage and some friends because day drinking is encouraged at a campground.

I obviously enjoy camping, because we keep doing it.  I kind of enjoy that it’s a little bit of a challenge.  It’s like a test to see if I can remember all the things.  And if I forget something, it’s a challenge to see if I can improvise.  No pot for the beans?  Put the can on the fire.  No wine opener?  This screwdriver should work.   Short a pillow?  Roll up a towel.  And if that doesn’t work… If you forgot it, chances are, you can do without it. Camping is also a humbling exercise in realizing how much stuff you don’t actually NEED.

The best part about camping is that it really does help people connect.  Nobody remembers everything, so you rely on your friends. You borrow and lend without any sort of tally in your head because you’re all in this together.  You see each other’s sub-par parenting and campfire cooking fails and dirty pajama pants, and you love each other all the more. You don’t have the fallback of watching a movie, so you play games and sing songs and make s’mores.

And if the sun goes down at 8, you can spend a couple hours drinking and laughing by the campfire and still be in bed by 10.  That’s my kind of vacation.