When we pulled into the RV park and saw the beautiful bathrooms, the indoor pool, laundry room, and lack of dirt, I thought, “Hey, this may not be all that difficult.” Thinking that meant only one thing. I had lost my mind…probably on the 1200 mile road trip to said RV park.
Over the next few days, between trekking to my son’s NAIA World Series baseball games and figuring out breakfast lunch and dinner, I was reminded again and again of why we hadn’t tried camping before. As my wonderful friend said, “Camping is WORK!”
Picture if you will a serene night…a faint breeze is in the air, the stars are making a magnificent appearance in the sky, and you can hear the majestic snake river flowing nearby.
That was NOT our camping trip!
Instead, the first night, I hear(over the rain pummeling our tent) retching…more specifically, Nick retching. There is no sound in the universe that wakes you up quicker than the sound of your child in bed next to you throwing up his dinner.
I jump up…kind of…I would have hit my head on the top of the tent if I had done that. I pull Nick into an upright position and help him not choke. Then I did what I think was only reasonable given the bathroom is at least 100 yards away and it is pouring rain. I grabbed the sleeping bag that most of the vomit had gotten on, and turned it inside out, shoving the vomit soaked part under our air mattress, wiped Nick’s mouth, and we went back to sleep.
The following morning I was greeted with a diarrhea-soaked boy. It turns out Nick had problems at both ends. So, we trek to the bathroom–thankfully outfitted with a full shower chair–and commence to give Nick a shower. I think I was more soaked than Nick by the time we were through but it was done.
On to the baseball game because, after all, this whole camping thing was really just the only way I could afford to watch my son play ball.
We ran to the bathroom a few times during the game but overall not too bad.
I thought the rest of our trip would be easier…not easy…just easier!
The next morning, I woke up soaked…in urine…not my own. This time, it belonged to my 6-year-old, who always picks the absolute best time to pee his our bed air mattress.
So, off we go to the bathroom for both of us to get showered. Between all these mad dashes to the bathroom for toileting, showering, etc, I got shin-splints. I wish I was joking…
Now, of course, I am glad we went. And, thankfully, the wonderful friends who were with us helped immensely. And I really wouldn’t trade the experience of watching my first-born play baseball in the World Series in person for anything.
I loved the memories we made…watching my son fish for the first time–surprising both of us that he enjoyed it…watching quite a few of the players get together and go fishing the night they were eliminated, and enjoying each other and not acting like they had just fallen short of a very substantial dream…seeing Nick play cars with a very patient friend…the sun setting at almost 10pm and being awe-struck at the beauty of it all.
I am thankful.
But sometimes, I wish the journey could be just a little easier…