(Or more appropriately titled "The Camping Trip of Nightmares".
Where has the time gone?
Last weeks camping trip was a *disaster* on many fronts.
Let me just say, I'm not a tent camper. I'm just not. I don't like bugs. I don't like sleeping on the ground. I like warm water. I just do.
My girls feel the same way.
So why on *earth* we thought it was a good idea for all of us to do this trip is beyond me.
The girls had went up Friday night and Mike and I had a really nice evening (as previously posted). So Saturday morning he had stuff he wanted to get done, so I just packed up and headed out.
The directions could have been worse. But I don't really see how. It took me over an hour of driving on curvy mountain roads that I've never been on before. My anxiety level going up with each curve and 200ft. drop off 4 feet from the van.
I finally got there, got out, smelled the fresh air, and thought, "This ain't so bad!". That lasted almost 5 seconds. Until I was greeted by one of the other moms who goes on to tell me that Jillian had cried all night long.
(Side note: I'm one of those moms that *WANTS* to be called if her child cries. That's what I feel I'm here for. They know this but wanted her to have a feeling of accomplishment, which I appreciate on one level, but she's only 9. Let's accomplish other things first.)
So Jillian is weird tired. Her eyes are all glowy. She is clingy. And Julia (12) is super hyped up (as were the other girls in all fairness). Two of the other moms were sleeping because it had been such a rough night (mainly because of my daughter though there were others that were scared as well).
It's "free time" when I get there and so I don't have to do anything other than just sit around and get the feel of the place.
Twelve very tired girls with nothing constructive to do makes for one LONG afternoon. They ended up fussing. Hurting one anothers feelings. Tears. You know, regular camp fun. (I'm very happy to report that MY daughters did not participate in any of that drama. I suppose the night time drama was enough for them.) So we got to play referee all afternoon.
And finally it's supper time. The group of girls that I had were so tired that they were laying their heads on the dinner table. Pretty rough.
They had some activity scheduled afterward, but there was just no way these girls could make it. So we opted out. Which was a big deal to the older scout leader for some reason, but that's another story.
We went back and started a fire. It starts to get dark. Jillian's anxiety starts to go up. She begins to cry. I walk around with her, talking to her, comforting her. She's not really having any of it. She's exhausted and scared and convinced there are "killers" in the woods waiting for her to close her eyes (she'd read it on a tent post the first night, that there were killers there that had killed before. What a lovely note to leave in a little girls tent.)
She was *just* beginning to calm down and we were walking back to the camp when a truck pulls up and yells at us to come closer. That they are finding copperheads (yes, the poisonous snakes) all over the place and that we needed to get off the ground somewhere.
Oh yeah, THAT was relaxing news for my 9yo. And me too.
I couldn't leave because there wasn't enough people to drive the girls home the next day. And anyway I'd have never found my way down this mountain in the dark. So my girls and I slept in the van.
Correction: The girls slept in the van, and I sat up in the front seat all night long looking for "killers", "snakes" and trying to read a book with a flashlight. I finally dozed off around 5:30 and slept until about 7.
Then it was breakfast time. Then clean up the dirt time. Then sit around time because we were done so early and couldn't get back to the dropoff point this early.
Oh, and if I thought the trip up ALONE was stressful, picture going back DOWN the mountain with 6 little girls added to the mix.
Finally, we're home and bathed and relaxing.
You'd think this should be the end of the camping story (other than 2 days worth of laundry).
Yes, you would.
And you would be wrong.
Wednesday I'm headed to the co-op with Jillian to pick up Julia and 2 of her friends (who were also on the camping trip) when my cell rings. One of the moms hates to tell me this, but the little girls that Jillian slept head to head with on the first night has lice.
Now you have to understand how *freaky* I am about lice for this to be remotely as ironically funny as it actually is. My children are not allowed to wear hats/coats/bandanas/use combs/brushes/sleep on others pillows/use others blankets/etc. I'm *neurotic* about it. Because I don't want lice.
Jillian has hair down to her bottom. And it's THICK. Very, very thick. And now she's potentially been exposed to lice.
I pick up the girls and take them to the church and check Jill's head. There is nothing there at all, but luckily Mike agrees with me that we should treat anyway. So he runs to the store and gets the million dollars worth of lice treatment and we spent ALL afternoon (about 7 hours) treating *everyone* in the house, spraying down the upholstery, (re)washing all the clothing/bedding, vacuuming, etc.
Overkill? Yeah, I'm pretty certain it was.
And then I find out the next day that NO ONE else has treated at all. They're just gonna wait and see. I'm silly, but that makes me nervous.
I can say with certainty that we shall not be GS tent camping for a LONG time. If ever.
Ugh.
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