Camping is for the birds

So, we thought it would be "cozy," a nice family together time. Sure, everyone else said our tent was tiny. Yes, it's been 8 years since I was camping and this tent's last 5 appearances were on our living room floor for play time. Of course I married a farmer and we don't do much camping because the only time to camp in Oregon is during harvest time. So, naturally, we are singularly inexperienced at camping. But come on, how hard can it be? One night? At a camp ground with running water and a bathroom? And my sister-in-law is a famous cook and I just had to pitch in some supplies and money? This was a dream. Even when we put the sleeping bags in, it looked great. Our van was parked right outside the tent flap, with our clothes, and you can see the fantastic way all five bags fit in the tent. To the left, you can see Jeff's blue bag in front of the tent door. Beside him is Abby's hand-me-down race car sleeping bag. Titus is at the top in the castle bag. Josiah is set up in the middle for the first time in a grown up sleeping bag - and I'm tucked in nicely by the tent wall at the bottom of the picture. No problem.

Jeff's side of the story is that he woke up sometime in the middle of the night to me yelling incoherently and waving my arms. He did mention that it reminded him of a wild haired scientist - kind of like the guy on Back to the Future - but we won't hold it against him for long. All I know is that I woke up to hear Jeff saying, "Sweetheart, we're at Triangle Lake, it's o.k. we're at Triangle Lake. . . " I had a distinct sense of wishing he would open the door, but I couldn't verbalize much. I just had this excessively panicky feeling and as I tried to express it, what I said was, "I'm just. . . I'm just. . . I'm just. . . freaking out!" "I know," was my beloved's reply - and we both went back to sleep.

Sometime later I woke again, freezing cold, and with a strong anxiety running just below the surface of my conscious thought. I took stock of my situation, crawled over Jeff, and spent the rest of the night sleeping in the passenger seat of the van in the extra sleeping bag. It took about an hour before I was confident that I could breathe.

Early in the morning when the classic crows of camping started their song, I crawled out of the van and over to the fire, where my loving father was waiting to have a laugh at my expense. He expressed generosity in saying that I could have come into their tent. It was then that I realized, I really don't ever want to see the inside of any tent again. Barring the purchase of an airy condo-type tent, or, better yet, an RV, I think I can safely say that camping is for the birds!!