Camping Mommy Style

My husband and I decided to camp again as a family this summer.

We both agreed that true camping means sleeping in a tent and having a campfire.

In the interest of true camping, I created a Pinterest Board called "camping" in which I downloaded every campfire recipe you can think of.

I didn't use a single one.

Instead I stuck to my old stand by of expensive cheese, wine, and delicious crackers.  And take out. We only camped for three nights, but my real personal challenge was on night #2 when I realized the restaurant I wanted take out from (the best nachos on the central coast) was closed on Tuesdays.  I had to settle for the second best nachos on the central coast. My husband told me I was doing a really good job of roughing it.  I proved how well I could "rough it" by eating the leftover cold nachos for breakfast the next day while sitting on the aerobed in the tent. This was while my husband left in the van with his computer to go find a coffee place with hot breakfast sandwiches and wifi, leaving me with 2 young children and only a forest to entertain them. I figured I was the camping champion of the day because not only had I consumed cold nachos for breakfast, but I had NO COFFEE until my husband came to pick us all up at 9:30 am.

Confession time: the only camping we have done as a family so far has been no farther than a ten minute drive from my parent's house.  I set a simple "real camping" goal for myself because of this: I will not take a shower at my parent's house while camping.  Last year, while camping near my parent's house with our family AND some close friends, I failed miserably. Not only did we raid my parent's house for a home cooked dinner, but I took a shower while we were all there. 

This year, I actually took a shower on the campsite.  Part of me felt silly because I was using up time in the camp grounds shower while people were waiting. I could have saved some camp hot water by going to my parent's house I reasoned, but my daughter insisted on showering on the camp grounds.  Apparently this was some sort of rite of passage that she felt she had to do. Unfortunately, right before I had gathered our shower gear and flip flops (ALWAYS wear flip flops in a shower when camping), my daughter skinned her knee for the first time. Not one to be thrown off course, I threw my wailing daughter into the shower with me.  Everyone within a five tent radius could hear the howls of my six year old as she watched the blood drip from her knee and felt the sting of shampoo drip over her eyes.  It was an experience only smores and glow sticks could improve.

Since our first shower experience was so successful (not), I decided that the only way to stay clean was to go to the water park in Paso Robles.  I had already been there twice with my kids, but my husband had not had the pleasure of baking in the sun while watching his children frolic in the kiddie pool for awhile until forcing them to "float" on tubes down the "lazy river".  The children and I had developed a routine of playing in the kiddie part and then floating down the lazy river, returning to the kiddie pool, then lazy river...you get the idea.  With my husband around we could actually branch out to the "wave pool" on our tubes. I love the wave pool. I could have stayed in the tube and rode the waves for the rest of the afternoon. My toddler son was the same way. Every moment a wave would lift his tube up he would yell, "Whee!" and "This is fun!" My daughter said in a quiet voice, " I don't feel so good."

"What do you mean?"

"My tummy hurts."
"Seriously? But this is so fun."

"Mommy..." and then she made the face. You know, the chipmunk hold-your-breath-and-puff-your-cheeks-out face.

I think I said to my husband something like, "Head toward shore" or "abandon ship" or "abort mission" and we found ourselves scrambling to get out of the wave pool.

Sad that my only thought was, "She'll never make it on Space Mountain. How is she going to ride Space Mountain?"

That night, we walked around the campsite. I have to confess that while my husband admired the beauty of the surrounding trees and such, I was checking out the décor of other campsites and considering what I could buy with next year's camping budget.  It feels like a competition, looking at other's decked out campsites.  Some people actually decorated their outdoor tables with flowers and fancy table clothes.  Others played music out of RV's fancier than my house. Some showed evidence of real meat grilling on campfires.

I told my husband, "I think next year I'll buy an EZ Up and get some rope lights for atmosphere."

"That's not camping", he said.

"What? The EZ Up?"

"The rope lights. That's not camping."

We walked around some more. I wasn't going to press my luck, because it was my husband who didn't even smirk when I pulled out the air mattresses to sleep on (not real camping?).  I was thinking that more light and covering to enjoy the fancy cheese and wine I brought camping would be nice. 

"We could do lanterns, " he said out of the blue.

I thought a moment. Lanterns with those little fake tea lights would be pretty atmosphere and seem more campy. "Okay," I said, "lanterns would be better."

We walked along in peace once more, enjoying the last of daylight.

"Look at that HUGE, fancy motorhome!" I shouted, pointing to a nearby campsite.

"That is really big," said my husband.

"Not real camping," I said.

The next day my daughter got up and asked for a Pop Tart for breakfast.

Now that is real camping.

Salve!

When I first started homeschooling, I had dreams of grandeur. I pictured my daughter being able to recite Shakespeare at the age of six.  I pictured her composing her first piece of music at the age of 7. I pictured a genius. Someone who could read chapter books by the end of kindergarten and had multiple languages under her belt.

If you have that kid, don't even come near me.

The truth about homeschooling lies more somewhere in between. Somewhere between days where I can barely squeeze a math page out, and days where she's reading at a second grade level. Between days where she can count by fives before I've even taught her, and days where she can't read a word because she doesn't feel like looking at the letters.

 I can count the number of art projects we've done this year on one hand.

I can count the number of times she's had a music lesson: 0.

I can count the number of times I've screwed up this kinder year of hers: 2, 462.

And yet, I wouldn't trade it because of days like today.

Today, I pulled out the SECOND Latin Language Program I've purchased this year. If you homeschool, you know why we chose Latin as the first (and maybe only) foreign language for our daughter.  If you don't homeschool, you'll think we're nuts.

Just to clear the air- we are nuts.

But my daughter wanted to start the book and sing-along CD "right now". Even though I purchased it for next year.  And she doesn't understand why I sort of freaked out a little and said no at first, because she doesn't get that if we start now I have to REWRITE THE WHOLE LATIN LESSON PLANS for the beginning of next school year and I am a little obsessive compulsive when it comes to lesson plans.

I decided to recite my new mantra. "I'm a tree. I can bend."

It isn't really my new mantra. I don't really have a mantra. If I did, it would be something like "More coffee makes me happy", not this silly tree nonsense.

But I decided to be wild and throw caution to the wind and I opened the workbook to the first page. I put the CD on the stereo.

Two harmonic voices began singing a song about "here comes the teacher" and "hello" and "good-bye". We sang the words in Latin.

My daughter decided the music was a beat she could dance to.

We danced. We sang. I looked at the workbook.

And then I realized we had been singing the "classical" version of Latin, not the "ecclesiastical" version.

Side note: this is typical of us.  I tried to learn Italian through CDs a few years ago. My daughter was about 4.  She actually followed along pretty good and was saying, "Bona Sera" with the CD and "Arrivederci!" like a true Italian.  But the CD went right from teaching common pleasantries and greetings to "Can you help me find a Taxi?"  We gave up.

The classical version of Latin is not my style because it pronounces the 'v' like a 'w' sound and I have enough trouble getting the vowel sounds straight, so please try not to switch consonant sounds on me too much. Thank you.

So I forwarded the CD to the same song, only in the "version" that I wanted, and we tried again. But by this time we were giggling so hard, because when you think about it, the word "discipuli" in Latin is pretty hard to pronounce because the 'i' can sound like an 'e' and the 'c' is actually a 'ch'.

And there are two different versions of that word.  All I can think is thank goodness the next level doesn't start until third grade.

I am determined that we will learn these songs and go on to read books in Latin, or at least turn a clever phrase or two to impress those who would otherwise sneer at homeschooling.

"Omnia Fortiora Si Dicta Latina."  Everything sounds more impressive when you say it in Latin.