I think I was a little over optimistic about going camping last weekend. I tried to stay positive, what with the torrential rains and all, but once we got there, I just couldn't keep it up.
Camping directly on the beach seemed like a super idea last August. And it would have been fabulous had it been sunny. Or warm. Or not hurricane-ish. But it wasn't. Any of the above.
We couldn't tie off big, blue tarps to any trees so we had to improvise shelter with four pop-up tents around a fire pit. Smoke from fire goes up. Gets trapped in tents. People cough, choke. Go inside trailers.
Ten each is not enough extra shoes and socks. Not with 12-year-old boys.
The kids' tent flooded the first night, and they had to spend half the morning in town at the laundromat. Thank God they were the older kids, who drive. And know how to work a washing machine. All by themselves.
Did I mention I was on my stupid diet the whole time?
I'm all for family fun, really I am. I'm a pretty good sport about the rain most of the time. I don't even hate it. I just hate being out in it, for any reason other than getting from inside to my car and back. So sitting around the fire in a winter parka, trying to get away from the edge of the tent that will drop four gallons of rainwater in my lap just as soon as the sag hits its maximum capacity, not being able to even eat a S'more, really pretty much sucked.
I'm voting for room service next year.
I don't even need the real thing. I'd settle for my kids bringing me something from the vending machine down the hall at the local Holiday Inn.
Just park me by the indoor pool, after that free breakfast, and I'll enjoy the hell out of the rain next year.