For Launna and David, who I know will find this especially amusing.

I am not a camper.  I really really want to be a camper, mind you.  My whole life I had glorious plans of being a camper for my kids.  I wanted to create beautiful memories camping in nature, roasting marshmallows, and sleeping under the stars.  However, the older I have gotten and the more children I have had, the more I am finding that alas, I am not a camper after all.   Sleeping on the hard cold ground, eating dirt and fending off the bugs is just not my idea of fun, especially with small children.  And I will freely admit right here that I am a wimp.  That being declared, let me share the conditions under which I will go camping: 
1.  Sunny
2. No Rain
3.  Warm
4.  No toddlers (if at all possible)
5.  Few bugs
6.  No Rain
7.  Flush toilets
On our campout this weekend the only one of those conditions that was met was#5- Bugs don’t like the rain either.

We headed up to Mt. Rainier so that the boys could see the big mountain up close and do something I have great memories doing as a kid.  It wasn’t going to be a scorcher of a weekend, but the forecast showed decent weather so up we went.  I should have known that it would not work out the way I planned when we drove towards the mountain and because it was so cloudy Go Go said, “Where’s the mountain?  I can’t see it?”  We had to explain to him that it was hidden behind the clouds.  “But we might run into it!” he worried. 
The clouds did not disperse the closer we got to the mountain.  But it was not raining,  so even though I was frustrated that they wouldn’t even get to SEE the mountain, I tried to stay positive.  (Rock would disagree with that statement, but it’s all relative, right?)  There was no rain whatsoever until we passed the Mt. Rainier National Park entrance and paid our 15 bucks.  As we drove in the rain to our campsite I continued my efforts to stay positive.  I can do this, I told myself.  I want my kids to have a good experience, so I can be tough.  I can camp in the rain, I told myself. 
We got to the site and set up camp.  It became dismally clear very fast that we were not prepared for rain.  It was 50 degrees and we had no warm jackets and nothing to cover anything from the rain.  Within an hour I was freezing, wet and miserable.  Blue Jeans was freezing, wet and muddy from head to toe.  Note: wipes do not work on wet muddy pine needle covered fingers.  Our little runner went back and forth between dangling his toes over the cliff on one side of the campsite, to running into the road on the other side. Within two hours our camping chairs were filled with water, our picnic table and its leaning tower of camping equipment put up high to avoid wandering toddler fingers was soaking wet and there was a mud puddle in front of the tent. 
To say I was grouchy by this point was an understatement.  And then I felt bad for being grouchy and having a bad attitude.  I was so cold and miserable, I just started to cry.  I know what you are thinking.  You’re thinking, “Wow, what a wimp.”  And you would be right.
Finally after one too many near misses with the fire and Blue Jeans, I took my overly emotional self and our squirrely toddler and locked us both in the tent and just sat there.  Blue Jeans climbed on the cooler, played with the flashlight and tried to pull the tent down on top of us.  At least someone was having a good time. 
At this point you’re thinking that I had already lost it, but no. The straw that broke this campers back was when I opened up the cooler to get out the ketchup and mustard for the hotdogs.  I went to lift the egg carton which was soaking wet from the melted ice and it dissolved in my hands dropping all 12 eggs into the cooler and onto all the rest of our food.  THAT was when I lost it.  I grabbed the bag of ice and chucked it out the tent door nearly decapitating my husband in the process.  And then I broke down and cried some more. 
It was then that I decided to go home.  I was fully planning on going by myself, but eventually everyone else with the exception of Grandpa was miserable too and so we gave up and broke camp after dinner. We did stay long enough for the boys to roast marshmallows.  I am not heartless, you know.   As we took down the tent we found a huge puddle underneath it that we all would have been sleeping in.  And at that moment I was reminded of a book I recently read where the woman was describing her idea of joy. 
      “I think of being in a tent, snuggled up in a sleeping bag,  listening to the rain.  Contentment.  Joy.” 
If I had been able to, I would have laughed at that moment.  
Maybe next time my boys want to go camping, I’ll send them over to HER house.   

Blue Jeans during the 2 seconds we got him to sit still and before he was totally covered in mud.