I Love Not Camping

“Goodnight guys! Sleep well… and Aaahggrrhh! DON’T TOUCH ME!! I AM SUNBURNT!”

I gingerly laid back on my pillow, which was still slightly damp from the previous night’s rainstorm, and the resulting puddles inside the tent.

Trying not to allow my sunburnt arms and shoulders to touch anything solid, including the ground, my hands were slightly outstretched in a defensive posture. My body was tensed for tonight’s battle for an inch of space to sleep.

“Good night, Mummy…” Thing Two whispered as she curled up next to me, pulling most of my pillow out from under my head.

And so the night’s battle began…

Wincing as a rivulet of sweat ran into my eye, I stared in paralyzed horror at the shadow of what could only be the largest Huntsman spider I have ever seen climbing across the side of the tent. Trembling, I reached out and flicked it off, hearing a tremendous thump as it hit the ground and scurried away.

A sleepy voice came from behind me. “Was that a crab Mummy? “

“Yes. Go to sleep.”

The soft sounds of my children settling down into sleep were drowned out by a great burst of raucous laughter and the resulting all-at-once chatter from the group camping next to us. Gasping in horror, I realized that I had become… old. There once was a time when I would have been grabbing a bottle of booze and heading over to join the party, instead of laying in my tent muttering about the rude inconsideration of others…

Don’t they realize that we have children, trying to sleep over here?

I rode the wave of my existential crisis for a few minutes; allowing memories of days gone by, old friendships and our crazy antics to wash over me…

THUMP!!

A tiny fist came hurtling out of the darkness and straight into my nose, bringing me crashing back into my current reality.

Flipping over onto my side, I hissed in pain as I was suddenly reminded of our long day at the beach and my inability to locate the sunscreen in the jumble of things we’d brought from home. It was likely lolling about in a bag next to my elusive sunglasses, or in a box, along with the kitchen sink.

I gingerly rolled onto my back, every movement feeling like knives being raked over my skin. Sighing, I closed my eyes, preparing for a night of fitful sleep.

A rustle in the darkness…. I sleepily opened one eye… ah, Hubs heading to the toilet. I closed my eye again, suddenly aware of a burning itch in the cut on the bottom of my foot. I’d sliced my foot open on an underwater rock earlier in the day and in spite of my best efforts to clean it, something had remained. Should I ignore it? The burning itch suddenly became stronger. Sighing, I climbed out of the tent in search of the first aid kit.

Quietly unzipping the door of the tent, my eyes peeled for the dinner plate sized spider, I attempted to step into the tent without waking anyone. Slightly unsteady with fatigue and nursing my freshly bandaged foot, I managed to trod on Thing Two’s ankle. In my haste to move, I stumbled again and stepped on Thing One’s ankle. In my haste to move again, I stepped on both of the kids’ legs at the same time, and fell onto the mattress, igniting a fiery storm of pain from my sunburnt skin.

The roar of an engine rumbled across the ground, startling me awake. Two giant headlights shone directly into the tent, bathing everything in a daylight glow. A second van pulled in behind the first and some surfers, just arriving for the O-Bon holiday, joyfully began setting up their camp sites.

I sat staring at the surfers in rageful silence until one of them, likely sensing waves of malevolence in the air, turned off the headlights. Eventually, the engines also silenced and I gingerly laid down again to find that Thing One had turned and stretched his body perpendicularly across my mattress, his feet resting comfortably on my pillow.

Having successfully turned Thing One around without waking him, I attempted to lay down again. Suddenly, a snarl, like an angry cat roared from my young son and he clawed at me and pulled at me until I was able to break free.

Muttering the F word and another strongly worded statement about my love of camping, I snatched my pillow from under Thing Two’s head, not caring in the slightest if I woke her. I moved myself to the foot of the tent and stretched out at the feet of my family. Glancing over at Hubs, who was sleeping peacefully with approximately half of the tent at his disposal, I punched my pillow and laid down.

THWACK!

I’d forgotten that Thing One has long legs now. He had just successfully kicked a field goal, using my head as the ball.

Wedging myself between my two sweaty children once again, I resigned myself to feeling like an overly crisp ration of bacon between two slices of buttery toast.

BIFF! POW!

As though they were a team of homicidal synchronized swimmers, my children simultaneously punched me in the temples and rolled over draping their sweaty arms across my neck and chest. My nose was already clogged from my allergy to the outdoors, and I found myself gasping for air.

With a silent roar of rage, followed by a sense of defeat, I snatched up my pillow, unzipped the tent and stomped off to sleep in the car.

By now it was 3:32 am and the campground was silent, except for the pulsating hum of someone else’s car. They’d left it on so they could sleep in the comfort of their air conditioning. Leaving the rest of us, specifically me, awake to sweat it out, with thoughts of the detriment to the environment and hopes that the car would run out of gas sooner rather than later, dancing through my head.

I fumbled around in the darkness in search of the lever that would allow the seat to fully recline. Hubs’ new car is like a space ship. I managed to adjust the tilt and possibly reprogram his music playlists before finding the right lever.

With my pillow nestled snugly over my ears, to drown out the undulating hum of our neighbour’s car engine, I laid back and closed my weary eyes. It didn’t take long for me to feel the first shiver of cold on my burning skin. I had forgone taking my blanket with me because Thing Two had been laying on top of it and because I’d been boiling hot for hours.

With a sigh, I flicked on the light in search of something soft to lay over myself. Spying my beach towel in the back of the car, I fought off the waves of agony as I reached over the seats to grab it.

Though the towel was slightly damp, it would do. I flicked the towel open, sending a cascade of sand into the air. Gently brushing the specks of sand from my face and chest, I wrapped myself up and attempted to sleep.

Zzzzzzz…zzzzzz

The annoying drone of a gaggle of hungry mosquitos woke me. I slapped them to death and sprayed bug repellent all over myself and probably the dashboard and went back to sleep.

The sound of the car door opening startled me awake. Hubs was up and ready to start his day. He was heading down to the beach to meditate and obtain healing energy for the long drive home.

With tears in my eyes I groggily uttered “I’ve had the worst night’s sleep of my life.“
“You don’t have to get up now,” he whispered.

As he walked away, I saw Thing Two wandering around the side of our tent calling “Papa? Papa? Where’s Daddy!?”

Should I ignore her? No. The fire alarm sound of her wails of abandonment would surely wake up the entire campground.

Sighing, I opened the door of the car, catching sight of myself in the mirror. I was a horror show. My face, chest and shoulders were the bright red of a fire engine, my hair was a mass of frizz, dark circles shadowed my eyes and the rivulets of sweat had soaked through my shirt, leaving patches of sticky sweat.

Looking around the campground, I noticed the sound of silence. The car that had been running all night had gone quiet. I stared in astonishment as the door of that van opened. A modelesque woman emerged. Her makeup was flawless. Her hair was curled in beautiful beach waves.

Snarling, “I bloody hate camping” to myself, I stomped over to the cooler box to find something for Thing One and Two to eat for breakfast.

We were heading home today. In spite of my horrific night, a spark of joy at the thought of sleeping alone in the comfort of my own bed coursed through me, making me temporarily forget the heat, humidity and bad smells of a family camping trip.

I do love NOT camping.

It wasn’t all bad 😂