I don't like camping.
Let's be honest, the only reason I ever go is for the toasted marshmallows.
I don't like bugs.
Smokey campfire smoke.
My contact lenses.
Trying to keep kids hands clean.
Helping kids squat in the woods to go potty.
Cooking things without the right pots/ingredients/utensils.
Trying to squat in the woods myself.
Amorous husbands...in a tent...really?
Being hotter than the blazes of hades, and then freezing my buttocks off all night on an AIR MATTRESS that has at some point in the middle of the night gone flat, and left you on the ONLY ROCK that the tent was pitched on.
Hooting owls, and frogs and well....nature is so freaking loud at night!
And the farting.
And the silly kids giggling alllll niiiight looooong. (okay, I like that one, but we can do that in the comfort of OUR OWN HOME!)
Not to mention the post-camping laundry.
Everything has to be washed!
I feel like one over-nighter a year is really "taking one for the team."
Can you guess what my boys are doing here?
Oh, and where might they have learned this important fire-maintenance survival skill?
So guess where I will be next week?
Yes, I said WEEK.
Tues-Friday. (although I think I am coming home Thursday)
At Girl's Camp.
In a tent.
In a camp.
So if I am not around...
There just better be enough marshmallows. That's all I'm sayin'.