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Thursday, December 22, 2011

Part II - The Camping Trip from Heck OR Where is the Nearest Starbucks? OR Where is the Nearest Bathroom with a Locking Door in it? OR Can I Make This Title Longer Than the Actual Blog?

Part II.

4 pm.

Where was I?  Ah yes.  Deep dark woods.  Brownies.  Camping trip with six 7-8 year olds and 4 teens.  Otherwise known as the seventh level of heck.

You wouldn't believe how worn out everyone was at about 4 pm.  We were all whipped.  Little girls wanted to put pjs on and climb into sleeping bags because they were pooped.  They draped themselves on their little sleeping bags and moaned their discontent, until the troop leader popped out another craft project, whereupon they jumped it upon as if they were lions and the craft project was a hapless antelope.  (Really.  It happened.)  Then, they returned to being tired.

Alas, they found their second wind.

These are fine examples of girlscout diggitous.
This not-so-elusive creature enjoys digging
in the ground for rocks, sticks, and possible
fossils.  (I erred in mentioning
there might be fossils about and the brownies
decided that meant there WAS definitely
fossils about and they all became
budding archaeologists, paleontologists, somethingologists.)
Meanwhile, back inside, Super Moms were cooking of the dinner.  There were noodles, spaghetti sauce, carrots, and other stuff.  I'm not sure how the older scouts got a different menu but it turned out they had hot dogs and quesadillas roasted on the fire.  (Cheese quesadillas on the fire in aluminum foil for all you naysayers.)  Well, the sight of hot dogs pretty much melted all the younger girl's brains (kind of like the cheese in the quesadillas) and they all wanted them, so we had a lot of noodles and sauce left over.  (Which was a shame because it was tasty, although I had to cook one batch twice because I made the mistake of not checking the al dente-ness of it before draining the entire batch.  Hey, al dente-ness could be a word.  Anyway, don't pour the boiling water out until you're sure the noodles are done.  Just sayin'.)

We didn't have chairs but one of the moms had brought camp chairs.  (Somehow she knew.  I bow to her superior knowledge.)  Moms collapsed into a boneless mass after dinner while brownies flocked to the campfire to be with Super Fire Lord Dads.  (Their capacity for sitting by the fire and keeping it going certainly impressed the brownies.  Also they kept the brownies, some of whom were inordinately interested in how fire works and waving the fire around, from burning down the campground.)  (Kudos to the dads for their Smoky the Bear-ism.)  (Apparently, I can't keep myself from making up words today.  Just go with it.)

The older scouts were forced to perform minor
surgery on one junior due to the senseless attack
of a maddened splinter.  The splinter was eventually
located and disposed of in a humane manner.  But
it took three girls to perform the surgery.  Faces
have been concealed to protect the innocent.  Also
they moved because they didn't want a picture taken.
S'mores followed while moms cleaned up.  Eventually the moms were allowed to sit by the fire and partake of the chocolatey-marshmallowy-graham-crackerity goodness.  Sticky fingers were had by all.  More rocks were dug up.  There were also several attempts to see just how much wood could be burned in one sitting.  (Turns out it's quite a bit.)

Then it began to SNOW!  I checked my droid for the weather map.  And lo and behold, there was a tiny patch of pinky-purpleness ONLY over us, like we had been cursed.  There was a hundred square miles showing on the little map and it was only snowing on us.

Well, it wasn't this bad.  But it was snow!  No, it was SNOW!
No, it was ***SNOW***!!!
I called HIM, the man to whom I'm married, and said, "It's snowing here, bud."  HIM said, "Not here."  I said, "You'll come dig me out tomorrow, right?"  "No," HIM said.  "Watching the Military History Channel with a Foster's Lager.  Use the four wheel drive on the Explorer.  Buh-bye."  (No, HIM didn't really say that, but I'm pretty sure that's what he was thinking.)

7 pm.  The girls decided to watch a pukey Barbie movie.  (Pukey may be another made up word but I stand by my made up words.)  I'm pretty sure I turned green with vomitious implications.  (Barbie sucks, i.e., Barbie movies REALLY, REALLY, REALLY suck.  Here's an example of Barbie dialogue: "Look, there's an evil, fairy wizardess who's going to do bad things unless we save the fairy world.  We must use rainbows, light, and wishful thinking as our weapons."  "First, we must rescue a mermaid prince and have lots of adventures with strange creatures we wouldn't normally associate with and who are here for comic relief."  Okay, I'm not really using true Barbie dialogue, but I'm not exaggerating that much.)  Moms escaped into the kitchen to avoid the inevitable brain damage and for coffee, tea, and adult conversation.  (Example of adult conversation: "You tired?"  "Yes, dead beat."  "More tea.")

In the interim I was called on to kill four, flying beetle-like bugs who were threatening to dismember the children.  Also a poor spider was forced down although I told the girls the thing wasn't bothering anyone.

There was the splinter incident, a bloody nose (caused by dry air not a fist), two girls who wanted their absent mommies, two more who were scared of the dark (one of those was Cressy), a bathroom with one door that didn't lock, and a partridge in a pear tree who was screaming, "Christmas is over commercialized!"  One poor upset girl thought she'd popped the scout leader's air mattress (the kids were playing on them while the adults weren't looking and she didn't really pop it.)

Lessons learned:

For future reference, my air pump has a reversible flow.  One way blows and the other way sucks.  (Guess which way I had it set on when I tried to blow up my air mattress?  Guess how long it took me to figure that out?)  Furthermore, air mattresses are cold.  Additionally, kids do not want to go to sleep when they are congregated together in a large room.  Also, Barbie movies have not magically improved since the last time I saw one.  Lastly, kids are still finicky eaters and anything they don't like is, "Stuff that makes my stomach hurt."  (Direct quote.)

Day 2:

Moms packed and stuffed and cleaned.  The older scouts took the younger ones to the Pooh Tree.  I was dragged along because the scout leader knew there were hills involved and wisely abdicated.  Why is it called the Pooh Tree?  I will show you.

One little girl was smart enough not to want to go
into the big bleeping hole in the tree.
The older scouts then fell into the hole.  I had a strong urge to run and leave the kids in the hole in the tree but my conscience kicked in.

I told them not to close their eyes.
So off we went back to camp, up hill, and eventually I dragged myself back.  Some of the brownies got some of the seniors to CARRY them up a very large hill.  (Can someone say, "Suckers!"?)  My daughter eyed me speculatively but realized mommy wasn't going to play ball, so she quickly got to one of the seniors before the other girls.

Once back in camp, we all threw our stuff in the back of our cars and drove back to the real world.

I was so tired I fell into bed without taking a shower and had to later change the sheets because of it.

But hey, Cressy had a blast and they're already planning their next camping trip.

1 comment:

Gail said...

At least you don't have a cousin-in-law who not only collects Barbies, but attends Barbie Conventions AND takes her adolescent son with her.... who appears to not only enjoy them, but wanted to borrow his mother's feather boa to wear with his sequined hat. Worse, said cousin-in-law sees nothing ... weird.. about it. God, I hope this doesn't go on Facebook!