Misery-Loving Company

Esther -- the dirt feind

Came back from “tent camper-ing” late last night, roughing it in the wild, and after quickly whisking the kiddos off to bed, I immediately dashed to the shower for a nice, long, pampering privilege of utter cleanliness. My brother Joel, after many visits to the campground facilities, so aptly pointed out that the reason we go camping every year is so that we can come home totally appreciating the advantages of indoor plumbing. He is so right. If there is anything I missed while camping, it’s the readily available supply of running water, in every form, sinks, toilets, showers, wash machines, water dispensers. In fact, I thought I’d identified something other than indoor plumbing that I had greatly missed, and then I realized ice cubes were also part of that whole indoor-plumbing thing. Got to have indoor plumbing, especially with grubby little munchkins.

Every year that we go on our little camping venture, we all ask ourselves why we do this. Why do we take a week to plan and pack, six hours to drive, a day to unpack and set up camp, and then five or six days to all but torture ourselves, hosing our bodies down with mosquito repellant and hydrocortisone every few hours, going without long showers, warm shelter, or refrigerator, and running after two maniacal, dirt-plastered toddlers? Every thing we haul along is manufactured to be similar to the comforts of home, so why don’t we just stay home? I sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. Just questioning our motives for this form of vacationing.

You’d think, year after year with little ones, we’d be absolutely convinced that this is not a restful experience and should be put off to later years, when the kids realize that swimming in dirt is not a delectable experience – yes, delectable…Esther did eat it...several times. I think this year was the clincher, though. With seven adults splitting the job of running after two kids and still finding ourselves exhausted, we have vowed to wait at least another couple of years before trying this on for size again. Camping before children was tough enough, but with them it’s beyond grueling; it’s madness.

Still, if my family chose to go camping next year to our favorite little hole-in-the-wall, Lee Vining, I’d go in a heartbeat. Why? I love being with them. Where they go, I go. It’s that simple. They are the reason I go camping, to be with them, to know them better, to love them, and yes, to share the common bond of misery. And this company apparently loves misery, but I love them anyway.