How to Have a Memorable Camping Trip

This past weekend, we decided to join some friends (and some of their friends, and some of their friends) on a big group camping trip.  We picked a beautiful spot in the mountains - not a campground - and were looking forward to a weekend of family, friends, food, and re-connecting with nature.   It was everything we'd hoped it be... and more.  The following little primer is for those who're interested in camping and want to learn how to do it McGrail style.

1. Pick the windiest weekend of the year.

2. Dress for the occasion.

3. Forget to turn your camera off after taking picture of your little nudist, ensuring that you arrive at your destination with a dead battery and can't take any more pictures.

4. Choose a vehicle with low horse power and add more weight by pulling a trailer packed with camping gear. You'll only be able to go 30 mph (in a 65 mph zone) up the winding mountain freeway, and you'll have a line of no less than a dozen other holiday weekend adventure seekers queued up behind you.

5. Pick a location that has no cell service, leave your phone in the car all weekend, and relish in the break.

6. Enjoy watching your kids be kids... covered in dirt, playing in the woods, running around with new friends, and gathering kindling for the fire.

7. Make the most of using the forest as a bathroom by pretending you're Bear Grylls or a contestant on Survivor instead of what you really are - a regular old person squatting behind a tree.

7. Pause every few minutes to appreciate the sounds of nature.... your crackling fire, the crickets, the wind in the trees, and the crunching of pine cones under your feet.  

8. Take your family on what is described to you as a "short but steep" hike down in to a canyon. Don't turn back when you realize that it's both less short and more steep than you envisioned. Take a painstakingly long time getting your three year old down safely, while your older kids all blaze ahead with the rest of the people in your party. Admit it was absolutely worth the hike when you get to the cool water, and the beautiful view, at the bottom. Wish you had a camera.

9. Burst with pride for said three year old who climbs almost the entire way back up herself, with just a guiding hand behind her.  And for your fourteen year old too, who made the hike just a few days after dislocating his shoulder, and never complained.  Compare scrapes, bumps, and bruises when you get back to camp.

10. Park your car right next to your tent on the second night so that your husband can get up in the middle of the night and tie another anchor from the tent to the side view mirror to help prevent your humble little abode from blowing away during the gale-force winds.

11. Lay awake all night listening to the wind rip through the trees, your tent, and everything else in its path, and wonder if the next gust is going to be another one that bends the walls down onto your face. 

12. Decide unanimously to cut the trip by an entire day, and try to ignore the fact that you're really not feeling well, and have a two hour drive ahead of you.

13.  Lose your transmission halfway home, and be very, very thankful that 1) you took a major highway home instead of the route you took on your way there, 2) that you had cell service to call AAA, and 3) that you  were very close to your parents' house (and that they were home and able to come rescue you)

14.  Get back on the road a windy 60 minutes later... family, gear, and dog all split up between your parents' two vehicles.  Watch as the tow truck carrying your Land Cruiser weaves and blows all over the place in the wind on the highway, and envision your truck just falling off completely.

15.  Admit to yourself that you caught a touch of the stomach bug from the person of questionable judgment very nice gentleman and his family who came camping with you even though he was sick, and will yourself to make it home as soon as possible.

16.  Thoroughly enjoy a real bed, a real shower, and a real toilet when you get home.   Try not to think about the pricey car repair.  Or the unpacking.  Or the washing of all the smoke-filled blankets and clothes.

17.  Make plans to do it all over again as soon as possible.




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My Childhood, My Kids

I never want to be that parent who pushes her own childhood likes, hobbies, dreams, and pasttimes onto her children. I would never force any of them to play an instrument just because I enjoyed it. I would never make Tegan take gymnastics lessons against her will to make up for my own failure to realize my Olympic dreams. Some of the beauty of unschooling is recognizing that your children are their own people, with their own interests, their own passions, and their own dreams. I introduce them to as many opportunities as I can, but in the end it's their decision: whether they want to dabble, to try it once and never again, to explore it every day for the rest of their lives, or to never explore it at all. They may share some of my loves.... and they may share none of them. They may introduce me to things I never knew I'd love as well. Either way, I will be their facilitator, their cheerleader, and their biggest supporter.

One of the great things about being their parent though is that I do get to introduce them to things I once enjoyed myself. What they do with it is up to them, but if they enjoy it too.... well, any time you can share joy with your child is a good thing indeed. Yesterday I had an opportunity to share with them one of my greatest childhood joys:

Spencer loves horses and was happy to go, but didn't want to ride. Paxton decided to join us on the trail ride, and was really looking forward to it.

At six, Everett just made the age cut-off for the trail ride, but chose to start off with something a little less intimidating than an hour long trek through the desert.

And Tegan was thrilled with the chance to ride a horse, and didn't even have an objection to the required helmet (she'd really been hoping to wear a cowboy hat)

Horseback riding played such a huge role in my childhood, and re-living it caused such a heady rush of emotions that I could have wept right there in the middle of the desert. The smell of the leather, the creak of the saddle, the little grunty noises the horse made when it went up hills. The swish of the tail, the clop-clop-clop of the feet picking their way around the rocks. Bliss.

Paxton's horse was two ahead of mine, and I couldn't really tell by the back of his head if he was enjoying himself or not. So I was glad when my sister relayed his first comment to me: "The only way today could get any better was if we got to take the horse home with us at the end."

:)

All four truly enjoyed themselves, and it made my heart happy to see it. I'm glad I got to share such a wonderful memory with them, even if just for a day. Will any of them become future full-time equestrians because of it? Probably not. And that's ok.

The Land of the Free

I was in a mood on the fourth of July. For 364 days of the year, I don't think about New Hampshire... it never enters my consciousness at all. But on the fourth of the July, I miss our tiny NH town and its holiday festivities. I don't even know if it's the actual town I miss, so much as it is the idea of it... the whole All-American, baseball-and-apple-pie, small town goodness of it all. We'd watch the parade (and the kids would happily scramble to catch us much candy as they could, tossed from the passing floats), walk through the vendors eating our hot dogs and cotton candy, and return later in the evening to claim our spot on the hill to watch the fireworks overhead.

There were of course lots of various places to watch fireworks around the valley, as well as celebrations, parades, and concerts... but we've never been before, they were sure to be crowded, a lot of them cost money, and many were far away.

So we spent the greater part of the morning of the 4th sitting - and occasionally moping - around, trying to decide what to do. As exciting as that was, we really didn't want to spend the entire long weekend doing it. So at the last minute, we called Mom and Dad and invited ourselves up north. They can watch fireworks right from their driveway, and because they're far away, the noise is not an issue (an important consideration for a 2 year old's first fireworks experience). We watched the fireworks, spent the night, and ended up having a beautiful day driving and geocaching in the Mogollon Rim, the likes of which we couldn't have experienced in Andover, New Hampshire.

All in all, an unexpectedly nice weekend, and a really lovely holiday.

Dressed for bed and ready for the fireworks:

Camping on Maba's floor:

I was about to write that this had nothing to do with Independence Day... then realized it had everything to do with Independence Day.  Paxton and Everett trying on their great grandfather's custom-made Navy dress blues from World War II.  I miss him, and wish the kids could have known him.

Mogollon Rim, another beautiful corner of the world:

Happy Fourth of July to all.

Fish, Mud, and Puberty

Last week, we joined a group of homeschoolers and checked out the new aquarium here in the valley. We clearly weren't the only ones with the same idea, as it was crazy and crowded. We all enjoyed it though, and look forward to going back someday when it's not as busy (ie: when it's not still newly opened and 110 degrees outside)

I was catching up with a friend while the kids played in the playground area.  She asked me how we'd been doing, and I answered with my fairly standard, "Good.  Busy."  "What have you been busy with?"

Stumped.

What have I been busy with?  So much of it is just... life. Life with an active two year old who's in my arms a large portion of the day.  Life with a busy six year old and a driven nine year old and an inquisitive thirteen year old.  There's school (my school) and summer movies, and playdates, and an endless list of weekend activities.  The days are quickly getting away from me, and I continually need to remind myself to breathe, to soak it in, to take the time to sleep, shower, go to the bathroom ENJOY IT.

On Saturday, we took the kids to something called Mighty Mud Mania.  Apparently it's an annual event, but this is the first I'd heard of it.  It's only been going on for 35 years, so you can see where I'd have trouble. But now I know, so we went.  It was a long, hot, and fun day.

I've noticed lately - when I'm going through my hundreds and hundreds of snapshots that I've taken at various places - that there are far fewer current pictures of Spencer than the other three.  I was somewhat wracked with guilt and confusion over this (why am I excluding one of my children?!) until I realized why.  He's either beside me when I'm taking them, or he's off doing his own thing.... unless it's 3 in the afternoon, in which case he's sleeping on the couch.  He's at "that" age right now, that in-between, not quite a kid/not quite a teenager age.  When we were at the mud event, he enjoyed himself, but didn't really want to do any of the activities.  He was happy to hang out with us, drink his water, and watch.

I remember with great clarity - oh so painful clarity - what it was like to be thirteen.  I was awkward and confused.  I didn't fit in anywhere.  My body was doing strange things.  I had a group of not always nice "friends" who sometimes treated me so badly that I dreaded going to school.  I was the one with frizzy hair and bad skin.  I was mercilessly taunted by older kids.  I had a tragically huge and unrequited crush on a boy who was four years older than me.  I had no idea who I was or where I was going or what I wanted.

I was not yet ME.

I share this humiliating history to show that I can fully commiserate with my barely-a-teenager son, but also to give a praise of thanks that he is so much better off than I was.   He knows who he is, and a great majority of the time he's happy.  The friends he makes are true friends.  He has a close relationship with us, and with his grandparents.  He's excited about life and he's following his interests (currently that means hours at the computer, researching the ins and outs of operating a construction business) And the great torture that was provided to me at school?  Not an issue for him.  He's able to become a young man as gracefully - and painlessly - as possible.