Lest you think I am an evil, unbending mother who is indifferent to the magic of the outdoors*…There was rock climbing.And mom-climbing.Sand eating.And sand diving.Princess gear.Boys.Wouldn’t truly be camping without, unsupervised play near an open flame.And the Stones. *As a matter of fact, we made our two-night camping adventure into a three-day, wilderness extravaganza as we piggy-backed our trip with another outdoor odyssey…experience it here.
Which begs the question: is living without coffee really living? And zip it you, handy-dandy, super campers out there who probably pack french presses or super cowboy coffee contraptions. Somewhere between the swimmies, the contact solution and the bedding I forgot to consider coffee. So as I endured spiders bigger than mini-coopers, middle-of-the-night-drunks-who created piercing auditory vomit for 6 consecutive hours between bedtime and beyond, and tried ineffectively to keep pine needles, sand and dog hair from afixing themselves permanently to the diaper rash afflicted parts of the girls, I dreamt of coffee. Hot, strong, made-by-somebody-else-and-consumed-in-civilization coffee. Looking at this now I don’t think you can truly see how desperately we needed the coffee. I should have taken it before pulling into the hallowed…
With a pocketful of memories and sand.
So very blessed.
These sweet girls of mine make it impossible to wallow. Today, and evermore, I am back to living. I hope that you enjoy this as much as I did, if you don’t, feel free to mock my chortling. Here’s to living.