Kids don’t require vacations

Years ago, my kids and I were caught in a freak thunderstorm in Santa Rosa. It was just after school had ended, and we were on our way home after I had picked them up. But in between school and home, I needed to stop at Montgomery Village for some reason. I don't remember what... Continue Reading →

Camping with Kids

We’re leaving tomorrow to go camping. This will be Mr. Wonderful’s and my first family vacation, ever. It should be fun, and it should be interesting. A 13 year old boy, an 11 year old girl, and an 8 year old boy, plus the two of us for two nights and three days. We’ve been planning for months, making lists for weeks, and packing for days. And tomorrow we will embark on our journey, and hope with positive thoughts that the integration of our families for several days will be chalked up as a successful vacation we’ll want to do again year after year.

Camp, part 2

But then there are those campers that aren’t what we expect them to be. One difficult camper broke a bathroom door, threw rocks towards other campers, and told a staffer to “F- off”. And we all wanted to throttle him.

Camp, part 1

There's something about camp. You get there, and the dust overwhelms you. You get eaten alive by mosquitoes that will only leave you alone after you smell like a saturated pine cone, and biting flies that will eat you no matter what. If you have allergies (and I do), your face will feel like it will fall off by the third day. You hike up a hill to get somewhere. You hike up a hill to get back. You have to wait in line for a shower, and you're not guaranteed hot water. The dining hall smells not so faintly of sour milk. The salad is served lunch and dinner, and looks slightly brown by the 7th day. And I think I'll be fine if I don't eat red jello until next year. We go to bed late and wake up way too early, and are completely sleep deprived by the end of camp. The pool is ice cold and crowded, and my feet are torn up from the rough bottom, not to mention the blisters from all that hiking.... And still, I come back every year.

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