Memorial Day Weekend

We had a very fun and relaxing weekend full of cookouts, campfires, and lots of good friends! The girls have been bugging us to camp out in the back yard and we finally decided that this was the perfect weekend to give it a try. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a less-than-enthusiastic camper. . .in other words, I hate camping with a passion. Maybe someday I’ll write an entire post on my great aversion to camping, but for now, suffice it to say that, a) it’s more work than staying home, b) what’s the appeal in that and, c) why on earth would I do that to myself?

Anyway, the girls’ great! excitement! and enthusiasm! was hard to ignore and I found myself actually enjoying setting up the tent and hauling out blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags. Somewhere in the midst of the great! excitement! and enthusiasm! and also the endless chatter of three little girls who sound an awful lot like chipmunks, Conrad inadvertently promised to take them all hunting for nocturnal animals (their words, not mine – honest!). But he didn’t realize that he promised that until we were finally all settling down (sometime around midnight) and a little voice (Lydia) calls out and says, “Daddy, do you think the nocturnal animals are out yet? Is it time to go hunting now?”

Conrad sat up and said, “Lydia, what are you talking about?” which is when she kindly and sweetly informed him that he promised to take them hunting. And that’s when he broke the news that he had no intentions of taking them hunting that night or any night in the foreseeable future. Mayhem ensued as all 3 overly-tired girls broke into the ugly cry, “But Daddy, you proooooomissssed!” “Daddy, you said we could go hunting in the cemetery for nocturnal aaaaaanimaaaaals!” “Daddy, if you don’t take us now then we’ll never be able to go! Not everrrrrrrrrrr!”

Have I ever mentioned we get a good bit of drama in our household?

It took sweet forever to get everybody calmed down and finally I was the only one left awake and I could. not. get. comfortable. But I was bound and determined to sleep all night in that tent. (My determination may have had something to do with the great amount of ridicule I put up with earlier in the night at our cookout where bets were being made all around me about how long the pastor’s wife would last in a tent. . . ). At some point I dozed off, only to startle back awake, then I dozed, then I jerked awake, then I dozed. . .finally, I woke up and decided to head back inside for the last bit of sleep. The rest of the family was out cold, no one would have to know that Mama spent the last 30 minutes or so in her own bed. So I quietly made my way to the house and crashed in my bed. It was then that I looked at the clock and saw that it was only 2:30 a.m. I had survived in that tent for 2 1/2 hours. I am not proud of that. Not one bit.

Here’s the tent set up in the back yard:

Here’s Conrad with Bryn and Ellie. Lydia made it all night in the tent, but she’s my early bird and she was up and full of energy at 6:30.

And here’s my baby on her first tent campout. She’s darling, that’s all there is to it:

So we survived a night in the tent (or at least a couple hours). Up next: a week in the Grand Canyon where we sleep under the stars. Right.