Campbell's go Camping

So those of you who have come on the scene post college probably don't think I'm much of a camper... but alas you are wrong. I have back packed through Europe (glorified camping), hiked the North Carolina mountains, spent 10 years at summer camp and survived an Apache Lake camping trip over Memorial Day weekend. All this to say... I camp.

James and I decide to do a one nighter on the Friday before the Labor Day holiday weekend down at McGee Ranch outside Tucson. I point out that the hurricane just hit Mexico and there was a 60% chance of rain that day. In Tucson that means its raining. Period. James shrugs his shoulders. I place the full weight of packing and prepping for this camp trip squarely on James shoulders. This was his shpeal and it's his project. I am not surprised at 11 pm the night before we leave that James comments that he needs to throw the tent in his trunk. Sigh. I pack my rain boots because I know in my head that its going to rain.

So we get to the camp site and I am mercilessly teased because I rock out my argyle rain boots... with capris mind you. It's still hot here... but it's going to rain. Those are my thoughts. So James sets up our tent with a borrowed headlamp because he forgot the flashlight. Sigh. Just how am I suppose to wander into the wilderness to go to the bathroom without a flashlight?! I digress. I ask James if he has a tarp to put under the tent because its going to rain and he tells me the tent is water proof. Sigh. I throw up my hands and go play with the children because they are of sound minds. As we are cooking it starts to sprinkle. Somehow I end up with a large umbrella and six children on my lap. I do not exaggerate. Then it starts to pour. Like a good mother goose I disperse my children to a waiting van with a drop down DVD player and hop into the Caviler. I shed my cardigan and turn on the AC. James and Gar eventually join me. Soaking wet and complaining about the sloshing water in their shoes. The only give me black looks when I innocently mention that my feet are toasty and dry. Ahh revenge is sweet.

James valiantly jumps from the car and grabs us some dinner. By us I mean James and I. Gar proceeds to eat almost all of my dinner and complains bitterly about being wet. Baby. After an hour the rain subsides and we emerge from the car. We go to inspect the tent. There is water coming up through the floor.... PS James the tent is not water proof... and water coming in from the ceiling... the rod that supports the fly was forgotten. I send James a withering look and march my sleeping bag down to the fire to dry it. It remains damp for the rest of the night. Gar announces that his tent is wet and he wants to sleep in ours. Denied. This air mattress was made for two. Try again later. So now the camp ground is muddy... and who prevails in their rain boots? Oh that would be Betsy.

So we emerged from the whole camping/bonding experience just a tad damp but otherwise fine. James has developed an obsession with camp fire smell...he would like to bottle it as a perfume and dump it over me daily. I refused. I did get to see a kick ass chicken coop at the Elam's and I am obsessed. I really would like a coop. My only problem is that I don't really like eggs all that much. Small details , small details.

So when James and I endeavour to go camping again in say... 5 years... I need to remind myself that I need to be involved in the packing process. I tried... I was really good at not inserting my Type A packer mentality in this trip and it failed me. Someone remind me of this 5 years from now when I think that camping sounds like a good idea again.