Unhappy Camper

We took our annual camping trip to Devil’s Den this past weekend.  The weather was fantastic, we didn’t forget anything important, and everyone in the family had a great time.

Well, everyone except one.

For Wes, there is always tons of work to do when camping.  He has to pack the truck.  He has to put up the tents.  He has to tie the knots.  He has to make the fire (except for last year).  He has to make sure the campsite is critter-and-fire-safe each night.  He has to “carry me, Daddy” for miles on hikes.  He has to act brave and hold the rock or the stick when someone sees a snake or a huge, gargantuan water turtle.  He has to pick the ticks off the rest of us.  (Yeah, gross, I know).  But even with all of that…the unhappy camper was not him.

Wes taking a break from the "Daddy duties"

The scary snapping turtle I'm glad nobody stepped on

For me, there is always a stress level even while camping.  For starters, I’m away from all of my tech which is both a blessing and a curse.  A forced and welcome respite, but hours in a row that I’m not working and getting further behind on stuff at home.  And then of course it is my job to make sure everything gets in the pile to get packed into the truck.  (One year I forgot a lighter or even a match.  Embarrassing moment having to go to the next campsite over and ask for a light…) While there, I do the cooking and the bed-making and the showering off of children and get to endure comments like “Why are we JUST having tacos for supper?  Why is that ALL we are having to eat?”  (Flour shells AND hard shells, warmed on the fire grate, with hot meat and cold grated cheese and sour cream and lettuce…ungrateful little wretch).  But even with all of that…the unhappy camper was not me.

The only picture with me in it (thanks, Tyler!)

Tyler has his own tent, but has to share with at least one of his sisters.  He brings his tech and movie player, but ends up having to fork his Kindle Fire over to someone else half the time and watch Aristocats instead of Star Wars.  Out in the wilds, he wants to act like a boy and be rough and mean but instead has to tame it down so the waterworks don’t start when one of the girls has all she can take.  He spends hours playing in the water, building rock bridges and dams.  He is my personal marshmallow toaster, making them all toasty golden brown on the outside and completely gooey and melted on the inside.  This year, he was the secondary photographer.   Even with the concessions, Tyler loves camping…so the unhappy camper was not him.

Tyler being the good big brother

Emily, crazy enough as it might seem, is perfectly at home in the wilderness.  She is the one that first spots the snakes and the turtle that looks just like the rocks all around him.  She was the finder of the ticks, carefully giving everyone the once-over and then calling for Wes to take care of the problem. She loves to hike, and usually walks ahead of everyone else, scouting the way.  She likes to sit in front of the fire and snuggle in the tent.   I can’t even pretend that the unhappy camper was her.

Emily perched on a tree

Lauren was the first to get her swimsuit on and bolt to the water. She was also the first one to be covered in mosquito bites and the only one sporting a bright white “X” on a background of deep red in between her shoulder blades.  She passed out both nights from sheer exhaustion and itchiness, in Tyler’s (undoubtedly stinky) “boy-tent”.  I didn’t allow her to take her skirts and cute clothes that she favors so much at home so she actually looked like that tomboy that she is.  Although the description sounds actually quite horrid to me, she had a wonderful time.  The unhappy camper was not her.

Lauren...being Lauren

This was Hannah’s second year to go camping.  She was the one on Daddy’s shoulders.  She was the one complaining about “only tacos”.  She was tired.  She was hungry.  She was itchy.  She freaked out if you even said the word “tick”.  (Luckily we found the one attached to her eyelid while she was still asleep…no, I am not kidding).  But she was out there in the water, and playing in the tent, and ready to go for a hike and content with her “just graham cracker and chocolate bar without the marshmallow” smore after her “just taco and nothing else”.  Even with all of the 4-year-old whining, the unhappy camper was not her.

Hannah is pleased with the water bottle

Hannah demands the offensive bottle be removed from her presence

Actually, the unhappy camper was Penny.

Penny pouting in the chair

Penny tethered at camp

This was the first year for Penny to go camping, since last year she was just a tiny pup.  The kids were so excited, and were so sure she would love it and have an amazing time just like they do.

Except not.

Penny hated the campsite.  She hated the tether.  She hated the hike.  She backpedaled when we took her down to the water.  She hated the ticks (I have to agree with her on that one), she hated the itching, she didn’t eat, she barely drank and when it was finally time to sleep she collapsed into her pillow bed and didn’t wiggle all night long.  The only things she seemed to like was this certain dog we passed on the trail…and I’m not sure if she really liked him or she hated him because she started barking (she NEVER barks) and whining and whimpering and lunging and acting really crazy until we pulled her away.  And then she pouted.

When we got home, we put her outside until we could give her a bath.  I looked out and saw her, face to the ground, scrubbing her face down the length of the yard in the grass.  Then she stopped, flipped her face of the other way, and went the other direction.  Then she flopped onto her back and scrubbed forever that way.

Apparently she was wiping off the camping stink.

It’s too bad, but I guess there is always one unhappy camper in every group.  At least this particular one can be left at Puppy Party next year.