Saturday, September 10, 2011

I Love Not Camping {Except on Labor Day Weekend}

I have this little sign hanging on the bulletin board when you walk into the back door of my house. 

And it's true.  I'm not a camper.  I'm a shower loving, lots of mascara wearing, clean nail sporting, ironed clothes wanting, like to avoid fighting with my husband, no dirt kind of girl.  Except for one weekend a year.  One.  And for that ONE weekend I embrace camping.  I embrace mud and smelling like smoke and being damp and gnats and taking a shower in a cinder block room and taking part in a great tradition that my family and friends have been doing since I was about four years old.  That's right.....about 4 years old.  I've been heading to Camp Barakel on Labor Day weekend since I was that little.  We missed one or two years while growing up but other than that....that's where you can find me on Labor Day weekend.  And I'm honestly very glad to be there.

Georgia loves it.  She loves running down the dirt roads, riding in Onen's (Owen's) car over and over all over the campground (a pink jeep is absolutely in her future when birthday number three rolls around), sleeping in the little house (Grandma Cathy and Grandpa Mark's trailer), sitting around the fire, going to the park, sliding down the huge tube slide, going on hayrides, eat junk food, collecting bugs, playing in mud puddles, and just being a little pig.   And we love to see her doing it too.  Not once the entire weekend did she ever ask to "watch a show." And that is refreshing.  You'd think all we did was watch TV at our house based on how much she talks about getting to watch a show.  One hour--that's all she gets a day..........but that hour is precious to her........sheesh. 

On the way up....Georgia's reading up on some good crafts. 

Playing on the big checker-board....more like using it as a stage to show everyone who walks by her new shiny shoes.

Here's my girl.  Wearing these shoes to play in the sand and dig with daddy.  A mascara wand is definitely in the near future........and a frog if she has her way...........

She doesn't even ask anymore if she can go out with Owen.  He pulls up to our camp-site, she drops her sippy cup, yells a good-bye, and asks Onen to help her with her belt-seat......they leave for about 1/2 hour....who knows where they go.

We took a trip to arts and crafts and G and Owen both painted a dinosaur.  Really Georgia picked this because Owen did.  After about 20 coats of pain this master-piece was finished and it's now proudly being displayed on daddy's desk at work.

These crazy guys were everywhere at camp.  Good thing we had our nocbilurs to check them out.

Getting ready for the hay-ride and thunder express.   Hay-rides....they used to be a lot more fun.....I think.  Thunder of the most in genius ideas I've seen in a long drainage tube, a sled, and screaming. 

These next shots are some of my favorite from the weekend.....looking for butterflies with GaGa with her new butterfly net.  All we're missing in these photos is a smattering of fairies dropping moon beams on the two of them and a unicorn frolicking in the distance. 

Another Labor Day camping tradition is foil dinners in the fire.  Georgia "helped" put them together this year and weirdo that she is snuck a lick of salt.  Oh yes.....she regularly asks me if she can have some salt on a spoon for a snack.  Really?  Am I raising a two year old or a deer? 

They're almost done.  And below.....a true American tin foil dinner.  With enough food in it for a small country. 

Last night........campfires and good friends. 

Tradition.  That's what I love about our Labor Day camping trips.  Even though I'm not in love with camping I'm in love with camping on Labor Day because it's a tradition and traditions make us feel like we're part of something great and meaningful and memorable.  It was Georgia's third year camping on Labor Day--she was four months old the first time we took her and we slept in a tent--that didn't do a whole lot for my love of camping--but it was tradition so we did it and it was another memory to add to the tradition and I'm glad we did it.  So until next year when he head up north again we'll continue to keep repeating all of the other traditions that have become part of the fabric of who we are and who we'll keep on being.  

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