Lessons learned while camping with two small children and friends

There is no such thing as too much food while camping, or too much shade at the beach.*

Buy the cheap trail mix and add your own chocolate chips. Don't be sad when the chocolate melts and makes the bag all gooey; let it harden into chunks of trail mix bar.

"Please don't put sand in your vagina!" invites all kinds of stares from onlookers at the beach.

Peanut butter is a magnificent addition to the ever-popular s'more.

Dirt is your friend.

Beach and/or shower access is good with wee ones. See previous line about sand and vaginas.

Nature really is cool enough to hold your child's attention for two days. Plus it takes twice as long to do anything camping anyway so it seems like you have half the time.

No cathedral can beat an impromptu interfaith worship service at the beach that involves the New Zealand Anglican prayer book, a catholic prayer focusing on the heart of Jesus, and a Hare Krishna chant.

Getting a baby to nap at the beach so that we can stay the whole day must put me in some sort of parenting hall of fame.

Don't fight with the one person who knows the secrets of tent assembly (i.e. your husband).

If you like camping, or imagine that you might one day enjoy it, do yourself a favor and marry an eagle scout. You will look cool to your friends when your husband can start a fire, make the tent, change the propane tank mid breakfast, make a s'more like a champion, and pack the back of your car with the precision of a NASA engineer.

Just be nice to the park rangers if they try to bust your friend for smoking weed in his car when he is actually doing his daily Hindu meditation with incense.

Make sure your friends actually brought their french press for coffee before you say, "God, I am so glad you have that french press!"

Don't let a three year old have sole control of the kite.

Go camping with friends often. It rocks.


*when you are car camping and don't have to hike it in and out of your site.

From the frontlines of motherhood

True story, courtesy of Rebecca:

A mom screams her head off at her son as they sit down at the table in the food court at a local mall. He is (gasp!) about to touch the table top before she has sanitized it with bleach chemicals. (Where is the logic of putting dioxin on your child's hands?!?) But here is the irony: this safety-obsesed, health-concious mama then pulls out a happpy meal and feeds about ten grams of trans fat, sodium, and processed sugar to her 2 year old.


Another one, courtesy of Laura:

A mom is walking the aisles at Target at 8:00 pm with a tired, cranky baby. He continually gets fussier and fussier and then throws a tantrum. She turns to him and yells, "We wouldn't even BE HERE IF YOU DIDN'T NEED THE DIAPERS!" Was she really balming a 12-month old for needing diapers? And it was his fault that she took him to Target at 8:00?


And now, one about myself:

It was a stressful morning all around. I had to deliver a letter at the post office but got there (two babies out of the carseats, into strollers/slings) and then realized I hadn't brought the address. Stay cool, I muttered under my breath. We'll just move on to the next errand and do this one later. So I head over to the drug store where they are out of the kind of diapers I use. The pimpled stock girl acted like it was my fault for actually wanting that kind and didn't even apologize for not having it in stock. This, incidentally, really gets on my nerves. I can not stand it when people don't apologize when they don't have or don't do what their business is to have or do for you. I also can't stand it when customers yell at employees, so at least I am equal opportunity on that.

I swallowed my grimace and moved onto the next errand: grocery list tailored to Trader Joe's. I fight morning traffic a third time and pull into a front and center spot (could it be that things are finally going my way?) and lug my two frustrated kids back out of the car into the cart/sling. I aproach the automatic door and guess what? It doesn't open. Because the store isn't open yet. A worker walks by and says, "Ma'am, we don't open until 9:00." It was 8:15. I grabbed Grace from the cart, shoved it back against the other carts with a smack, and yelled, "Are you freaking kidding me?!?" The worker and my two children stared at me and all three appeared to be on the brink of tears as I tried to make it better by explaining it had already been a long morning and I am sorry for losing my cool, yada yada yada. The worker smiled nervously, hoping I would leave without any other strange outbursts. I got my kids into the car and sobbed with my head on the wheel.

It is so much easier to judge when we don't know the back story.

And also, what is it about motherhood that pushes me to the brink sometimes where I am crying with my head on the steering wheel in an empty parking lot? Okay, to be fair, this almost never happens (anymore) and this anecdote is several months old. But still that did actually happen to me. I was sleep-deprived, I have two young kids, it is fair to get stressed out. Sure. But with all that is going on in the world, I actually yelled at another human because her store wasn't open yet. I actually cried, sobbed, because my morning wasn't working out well. There was a mother written up on CNN two weeks ago who had been vacationing in Lebanon and was desperately trying to get out when her car was hit by an Israeli strike, even though they had a white flag up. Her husband and oldest child died instantly. She was found by a reporter crying in the hospital room of her youngest child who was badly burned. The air in the room smelled like burnt flesh.

May we be mindful of the struggles of others. May we seek perspective on our own lives. May we stop judging others, and ourselves, so harshly. Amen.