All the nags I didn't nag

I practically bit my tongue off during this week of Boy Scout camping, trying hard NOT to tell Teddy what to do, wear, say.  I didn't want to embarrass him in front of his friends, and also wanted him to exercise some independence on this trip.  To get it off my chest, here's all the nagging I wanted to do but held in all week:

• You've eaten 11 pounds of sugar today...brush your teeth! (OK, I did say that to him one night, but I didn't say it the other 5!)
• Don't read--hang out with the other boys
• Wash your face, there's dirt on your nose, chin, cheek, ear, etc...
• Rinsing in water does not remove much dirt if you don't use soap
• Is that the same pair of pants you wore yesterday, the day before, 3 days ago, 4 days ago?
• I packed you enough socks and underwear for each day...how many have you actually used so far?
• If you are cold, wearing my black sweatshirt (I promise, I don't have cooties!) will keep you warmer than standing there shivering
• Tuck in your Class A uniform shirt
• Tie your shoes
• Listen to your counselors

I was thankful to realize there were surrogate parents all around us.  The Senior Patrol Leader enforced the mandatory shower day mid-week.  The camp staff checked hands before every meal, sending those with dirty hands to rewash and stand at the back of the line.  Older scouts reminded younger scouts to brush teeth, and not sleep in their uniforms, etc.  The scouts also checked in with each other to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be at class times.  While not the same level of care/nagging that a devoted mother like myself will provide, his basic needs were taken care of.  I might not have to stay the whole week next trip.  Thank goodness for that!

Tween to Teen

We've been doing a lot of camping this week.  Teddy and I just returned from a week in Monterey Big Sur's Pico Blanco Scout Reservation.  There is a very detailed wiki page here.  The reservation, originally donated by William Randolph Hearst to the Scouts, was saved from the 2008 wildfire in the area, thanks to dedicated firefighters, many of them Eagle Scouts.

As we sorted through camping gear for this trip, we realized we need to upgrade Teddy's gear and clothing.  The cartoon embellished flashlights and toothbrush were not going to be acceptable for this weeklong camp-out with "big boys" of 15-17.

Despite my concerns about Teddy being the youngest of the group at age 11, he did well joining in with the others.  The teasing boy whom I was most concerned about, actually turned out to the one I liked the most by the end of the trip.  Behind the teasing, sarcastic facade, he was quite considerate, if a little bossy.  The older boys watched out for the younger boys, and while there was some teasing and some hurt feelings, mostly the exchanges were good-natured.

Larry the Lobster and Obi Barn Kenobi's early adventure

Tales of Larry the Lobster and Obi Barn Kenobi are a camping tradition.  Here is the latest saga, made up by DH for bedtime on the camping trip.  If you make it all the way to the end, you may recognize elements from my prior post.

First of all, it was a tale of days gone by, before Barney the Bat and Larry the Lobster were sucked through the wormhole under the bridge and received their Jedi training.  This was a tale of bygone days of simple mosquito-eating and crawdad-net avoiding, where the biggest challenge our two heroes usually had was how to find time together, given their opposing sleeping schedules.  

Once in a while, either Larry the Lobster (who was, as you will recall, simply a crawdad with big dreams) or Barney the Bat would push against their natural circadian rhythms in order to allow for extra play time together.  In this instance, it was Larry who stayed up a bit late (for him) in order to invite Barney on an Adventure.  He was rather excited to do so, because, you see, Larry had discovered something fascinating along the riverside that day: a bright blue plastic boat that seemed to be just big enough for him and his friend Barney.  

The Boy in the Yellow Shirt

Just back from our annual camping trip with a group of families that met when Teddy was born.  We reminisced about the absent family who had gotten us all started on this adventure, before they moved away.  Some, like us, had never camped before, and others had not been brave enough to try it with kids.  Our (mostly) boys were about 4 years old that first trip, and I believe 10 families came along.  I blogged about that epic first trip here.  We realized this summer that we've been camping 8 summers, Barley must have been a year and a half.  Even more kudos to us for braving the outdoors with an toddler!

Time has sure flown since then.  We realized that Barley is now the same age as the "older" boy whom Teddy latched on to that weekend.  Teddy wore a yellow shirt in homage to that first trip.  He had become "The Boy in the Yellow Shirt" and was just as dirty by the end.

The further adventures of Obi "Barn" Kenobi

We used to take flashlight tours under the bridge at our favorite Big Sur campground. We would stand under the old bridge, shine our flashlights over the water, and watch the bats swoop over the surface, catching bugs.

This led to a camping tradition, wherein DH was drafted to tell the boys bedtime stories when it was time to sleep. The saga of "Barney the Bat" began. In past trips, Barney has been through many adventures, eventually wandering into an alternate dimension, where he became a Jedi and took the name "Obi Barn Kenobi."

Here is the latest episode:

Obi Barn Kenobi was sitting patiently, waiting for Yoda to finish doing his dishes after supper. Obi Barn felt something on his leg, and when he looked down, he saw a yellowjacket sitting on his ankle. He brushed it away with his hand, when he suddenly felt a sharp, intense pain, as if stabbed with a light saber! He realized he had been stung by the yellowjacket, who had flown away, and it HURT!

He tracked the "bee" to its hive, and having recently become a Jedi Master, planned to use mind control to destroy the villainous insect. He could get inside the yellowjacket's mind, and CONTROL it. Make it fly into a tree, or into a fire--anything painful that would destroy it! Obi Barn's mind was bent on REVENGE because his leg HURT, and he wanted nothing more than to HURT BACK.

When Obi Barn found the hive, there were thousands of insects swarming around it--all protecting the queen. As he approached, with his light saber drawn, 50 guard bees flew out in formation to block his progress. As a newly made Jedi Master, Obi Barn went into their minds, determined to control them.

As he went into their minds, he noticed how very teeny their minds were. No complex thought, barely room for more than one single thought at a time. Obi Barn was figuring out how to command them, when he realized all 50 of the minds had the same thought: protecting their home and their queen. Nothing else. No thoughts about stinging a big bat Jedi, or being mean, or attacking anyone who wasn't bothering them. Just protecting their family. Odd as it seemed to Obi Barn, as one single bat, to these yellowjackets all of these thousands of insects in their hive were one big family.

With a sigh, his leg still hurting from the sting, Obi Barn powered off his light saber and watched the hive for another minute. Since he was not advancing on it, the 50 guards were not moving any closer to him. Obi Barn realized he had to let go of his anger, since anger leads to the dark side. He would not give in so easily.

As you can surmise, DH pulls his plots from the day's adventures when camping. Barley got stung on the playground, and if he had possessed a light saber, there would definitely be one less yellowjacket in the world! We administered ice, ibuprofen, and uber-organized Uncle John had a special insect-bite pad and bandaid for him. Barley was so upset about the incident, he refused to go to sleep that night until all 4 of us were safe back in the tent, and NO BUGS were inside with us.

When Barley relayed the story to Teddy on the drive home the next day, it went like this:

Obi Barn got stung while waiting for Yoda to do his dishes. He tracked the bee to his hive and saw 1000s of bees. Since he was a Jedi Master, he was going to use mind control to kill them all. 50 Guard Bees got in his way, so Obi Barn decided to go home. The end.

DH was a little exasperated that Barley had missed the longer moral to the story...but in his defense, Barley had dozed off during part of it. DH was forced to retell it on the way home, so I was able to capture it for posterity here.

This trip was more of a struggle--it was VERY hot, and with no air-conditioning. I spent a couple of hours floating down the river this time. There were a TON of bugs. No bites, but inhaling wings and dust every time you breathed got tedious. The company was great though, and included one family new to camping. Food was delicious, and we all mostly enjoyed getting unplugged from city life for a while.

Home again, I count simple survival a victory this time.

The Tree Forts of Mount Madonna

Our cub scout troop camped at Mt. Madonna again this summer, and I have to say, I love this park! Even though there are not the conveniences of flush toilets, or on-site general store, we still had a great time.

As soon as we step out of the car, we are walking on a carpet of leaf litter. It is soft as cotton--I can imagine how much more comfortable the ground would be for the sleeping bags. (We have air mattresses, so won't notice as much)

Our steps stir up the earthy smell of leaves and growing things from the leaf litter, as we survey the large group space to choose where to pitch our tent. We pick a relatively flat space, with little or no apparent slope to it. This will prove to be incorrect over the next 2 nights.

The campsite is a haven for kids, especially boys seeking "forts" and "hideouts" rather than the Barbie Dreamhouse my sister and I craved growing up.

This giant burned out redwood tree trunk greeted us last year. I swear it looks 2 feet shorter than last summer, but DH tells me it just seems that way because our boys have grown so much!







I am going to estimate that the trunk is 8 feet high? Definitely taller than our tallest parent, who is over 6 feet. No one fell out this year, thank goodness!










This particular tree comes with convenient hand and footholds cut into the tree, and the edges are well worn from years of use.





This is the top of another "fort" in our immediate sleeping area. This one stands only 3 feet high, more easily scaled and defended by the younger scouts.

Another tree fort--one of 4 "secret" ones in our campsite, hidden among many other trees instead of out in the open.

You can see why this place is "adventure" paradise. Capture the flag was played several times over the course of the weekend.

They also played a funny game "Zorch," which is apparently a version of Marco Polo played on land, in the DARK. I don't know how they managed not to trip over tree roots and break any limbs, but they had fun.

Last year we hiked over to the Henry Miller Estate ruins, and did some geocache exploring. This year the parents were less ambitious--we barely even left our campsite to visit the deer pen next door.

Still, DH and I were exhausted when we got home. Much of this I blame on a lack of sleep the whole weekend. Thanks to the mild slope of our campsite, and our shared "queen-size" air mattress, I was rolling into DH all night. I rotated the mattress in the morning 90 degrees, putting our heads above our feet. The next night he kept rolling into me. I wonder if we were to invest in the king-size mattress, which is actually 2 separate mattresses linked together, if that would help?

Other excitement this trip--we got through both nights with dry sleeping bags all around, despite several mad dashes for the port-o-potties nearby. One child came back in, sheepishly admitting he had not quite made it all the way. When I started to get up to get him a change of underwear, he told me not to worry about it, his pants were still dry. Yeah, think about that for a minute, you'll figure it out... I was warned not to walk to the right when I exited the tent later on.

Speaking of unwanted moisture, it rained again this year! I am pretty sure it was what the rangers call "forest condensation." The fog rolls in off the ocean, and all the moisture clings to the redwoods all around us. As the weather cools overnight, it all condenses and drips off the trees onto us--and sure does feel like RAIN, no matter what you call it! It's a lovely sound on the rainfly but not easy to fall asleep to. Since I couldn't sleep, I found myself checking the tables at 4 in the morning to put things underneath to keep dry until morning.

The good news is that having learned from our experience with this "forest condensation" phenomenon last summer, our shoes were all INSIDE the tent this time. Dry feet are happy feet!

Camping Aftermath

We spent weeks planning and preparing for relatives visiting and the party for Barley's baptism. These preparations included:

• Cleaning both cars inside and out (amazing what detritus accumulates in the backseat with kids aboard)
• De-cobwebbing our living room's high ceiling
• Having hottub serviced in the backyard, though we didn't end up using it
• Cleaning patio furniture--and of course it was too hot to sit outside that weekend
• Patching and repainting the holes in the wall in the hallway
• Replacing ALL the burned out lightbulbs in the house--there were 5 different varieties of fluorescent bulbs!
• Drafting underage labor into clearing the toyroom floor for cousins to camp out
• Hanging falsely advertised wire rod for curtains in the TV room for privacy
• Attempting to acquire curtains for above rod (failed)
• Clearing all the horizontal surfaces in the house which were covered with papers and junk
• Scheduling cleaners to do final clean and sanitize makeover on house the day before guests arrive
• Stuffing anything left on the floor of the living room or TV room in a box, to be shoved in the front office or the garage, hoping like heck we'll be able to find stuff later (remote control? what remote control?)
  

Now, a scant week after our baptismal guests have departed, our house looks like a camping goods store upchucked all over it. (We went up to Mount Madonna County Park this last weekend with the Cub Scouts)

There are sleeping bags unrolled in the living room (to dry out); mountains of laundry in the garage; tent, rainfly and tarp set up in the backyard (where the sprinklers re-soaked them this morning); and the kitchen and dining room tables are piled high with the necessary tools of cooking and surviving in the wild....

AND we are going camping AGAIN before Labor Day! At least this second place has flush toilets, and it is less likely to rain. Did I mention our new church is also organizing a camping trip in September? We told the boys NO WAY.

Thermal cooker and camping, mmm mmm good!

So, the test run of the thermal cooker went very well. I've blogged about my beloved thermal cooker before, and am very pleased to have finally been able to test it in the wild, so to speak.

We packed on Friday morning, and I got beef stew ready to go in the inner cooking pot. Bring to boil, continue heating for 10 more minutes to heat all the way through. I didn't measure the water this time, just filled the pot 2/3 full. That would prove to be a minor error.

After 10 minutes (OK, 12 actually), the inner pot goes into the outer thermal sleeve. I was done with that by lunchtime.

We packed the car, and headed south to our campsite. We were providing dinner for ourselves and another family, so the beef stew cooking away in the car as we drove was working nicely. We got stuck in some bad traffic, and arrived at dinner time, instead of an hour early so we could set up camp as I had hoped.
Fortunately, the thermal pot allowed us to pull it out of the car, set it on the table, and notify our friends that "dinner is ready" pretty much as soon as we had parked. Not needing electricity for the bulk of the cooking time was a great advantage! The beef stew came out a bit soupy, but it tasted great--we all had seconds!

After washing out the pot, I used it again the next day to make jambalaya (Zatarain's boxed) for the group potluck. It kept the food nice and warm, and I only had to babysit it for 15 minutes. Crockpot cooking unplugged. How conveeeenient!

A river runs through it...

One of the most popular features of our summer campsite is the river that runs along one side of the campground. (Barley is on the right in this picture) There are innumerable activities to while away the hours, including:

* hunting crawdads (the boys caught and released over a dozen)
* rafting through the "run" created when rocks are piled along the side of this channel to speed the flow
* racing sticks through the channel
* building up the dam by moving rocks
* throwing pebbles into the water
* building rock cairns
* splashing each other
* skipping stones
* standing on the rock wall, or walking across it
* trying to talk your mom into stepping back into the ice-cold water for any reason you can make up

We saw something new this trip, though. This cool dude was "river surfing". Now, look back at the picture of the kids above. The river is NOT deep. It only goes as high as Barley's knee--about mid-calf on me. In fact, whenever I do get talked into innertubing down that channel, my butt tends to scrape bottom and get bruised on big rocks along the way. Funny the lighter, more buoyant kiddies never seem to have that problem.

Anyway, we were treated to this man's river-surfing practice, as he positioned his board perpendicular to the shore in the shallow river, and then he would back up a few yards, and take a running leap onto the board. Landing on it in a standing position, he would glide across the river, leaving a rippling wake behind him. It was fun to watch! And he was so nice to pose for me too!

Barley the Pragmatist and folklore

Every camping trip must include a campfire. We had one each night, featuring stories, drinks, and recycled cub scout skits. This is where we can really see the personalities of the children of this playgroup. Having watched them play together since they were babies, we are all enjoying the evolution as we see them hit the tween years now. Some of the kids jostle to get in the limelight, and others will let themselves be dragged in reluctantly. I don't think we have any who have refused outright. We're a friendly group, and have been camping together for 6 summers now.

Our friend Dan, one parent who never shies away from the limelight when it comes to amusingly corny campfire tales, told the kids a story about how Bear lost his tail. The short version (not nearly as funny as Dan delivered it with facial expressions, and flourishes of his bum) involves jealous Fox tricking Bear into sticking his long luxurious tail into a hole for ice fishing overnight. Once it is frozen good and solid, Fox startles Bear into yanking his tail up quickly to catch a fish, and it snaps off! (ow!) It was cute to watch the children who could see the end coming, as they yelled (or whispered), No, don't put your tail in the hole, Bear!

At the very end, Barley announced, "But that was only ONE bear--not all of them!" Barley has trouble with suspension of disbelief. He refused to accept the idea that this was a myth, and part of me expected to hear him discourse on Darwin's theory of evolution vs. Lamarck's theory of evolution by acquired characteristics. If they taught this stuff in second grade, I'm sure he would have!

Of course, once he was safely tucked in his sleeping bag and out of earshot, I had to tell all the other families about the Dream Catcher story.

Nothing like...

waking up in the middle of the night needing to pee, only to realize that instead of being in your home where the bathroom is just a few carpeted steps away...you are in the middle of the woods in a sleeping bag. You must now (hardest part) heave yourself off the air mattress without dislodging your spouse, pull on jeans, shove your feet into cold shoes, fumble your way to the opening of the tent, unzip and then rezip the opening, and guided only by your flashlight and the crunch of gravel, find the loo.

The good news? We're at a family campground that caters to mamby-pamby city folk like me & DH, so the bathroom is a real one with flush toilets, electric lights, and a sink stocked with liquid soap.

That moment of panic when I first woke up granted me instant empathy for my 7-year old when he had to wake me up in the middle of the night.

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DH has a slightly different perspective on things. His blog (if he wrote one) would say:

Nothing like being woken by an elbow smashing into your face, followed by "Honey, Barley has to go the bathroom--you need to get up to take him!" Followed by all steps listed by wife in her blog, getting up from floor (not easy for me either), pull on jeans, blah, blah, blah...only to realize after the deed is done and we are back, that is is already daylight, and hey, he knows where the dang bathroom is, why did I have to get up anyway?....grumble, grumble, get back in bed and snore some more.
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In my defense, I can offer only the following 3 statements:

1. The elbow in his face was completely accidental
2. Having sons means being excused from bathroom runs once toilet training is done
3. I don't think clearly at 5 in the morning

Will blog more later. Too dang tired tonight.

Rough camping

Well, so what exactly happened last weekend to the older males of my household?

Barley and I picked up litter in the rain, and the day did not turn out so bad in the end. It was actually quite fun!

Where were Teddy and DH during this? Sleeping in? Enjoying a relaxing day at home in front of various electronic screens while Barley and I slogged miserably through the rain and muck to set up our tent in the pitch dark? Oh wait, no, that wasn't us--that was THEM.

So, this story starts several weeks back when we first heard mention of Camporee. Our family has gone camping in the past, and after our first disastrous trip, discovered we actually enjoy it. We have come a long way as a family to being able to commune with nature. Sure, it's wimpy car camping at a site that stocks ice and firewood for sale, but we enjoy it. We even woke up to what sure looked like rain last summer (Dang! we left the shoes out last night!). Turned out to be "forest condensation" and it ended by late afternoon, allowing the summer sun to dry us all out before it got dark.

But Camporee was not going to be car camping. This is the BOY Scouts, and the Troop associated with our CUB Scout pack had invited the oldest Cubs (Webelos) to go with them. They would need to carry their equipment, sleeping bag, pack with external frame WITH them by hiking from the parking lot. There would not be parking right at the campsite itself. DH was strongly "invited" to come along as an additional chaperone, since the Webelos Den Leader was also involved at the Pack level. DH agreed (being the great Dad that he is), and found himself concerned about how long this hike would actually be.

Rain was forecast for the weekend of the trip, but apparently this was to be a "rain or shine" event. Hey, they're Boy Scouts--they're tough, right? Well, let's just say there is a big difference between boys at age 13 and boys at age 10...

Departure from the carpool meeting place was later than expected, and it was an hour drive to get to the Camporee location. There was a long line to get parked, and everything had to be offloaded so the boys could hike to the site. Apparently there was also some confusion about which sites were assigned to which Troops. There were several hundred boys there, and a LOT of chaos. By the time they'd hiked their stuff in, and the one lone truck that was delivering the rest of the supplies arrived at their site, it was VERY dark, and VERY late. And it was pouring rain. And cold. And muddy. It was 11pm before the boys could crawl into their tents and START unpacking sleeping bags and getting changed into dry clothes.

Due to scouting regulations, DH could not share a tent with anyone other than his own child. The plan was for the boys to share tents, and DH had his own on the other side of the site. He relayed to me how Teddy came looking for him Friday night, drenched to the skin, one shoe missing, crying that he wanted to go home. This about broke my heart when I heard it, and that was 2 days later when everyone had survived.

Two BOY SCOUT Troops had actually pulled out of the event. Got all the way to the parking lot, saw the chaos and the pouring rain, and peeled out for home. One reportedly claimed they were a "city" troop and didn't do rain.

Unfortunately for Teddy, leaving was not an option. They had carpooled up with the other boys, and DH did not even have a car with him. He sat Teddy in his lap, comforted him as best he could, and promised Teddy that he would get through this, and be glad before the end of the weekend that they had stayed. DH was hoping like heck that the rain would let up in the morning and not make a liar of him. Teddy reported that his friend E was also crying in the tent, and all the 10-year old Webelos were having a hard time. (My heart broke a second time when I heard that. Teddy at least had his Dad along to turn to, but E and the others had come on their own, so there was no adult for them to seek comfort from. Not that DH wouldn't gladly have hugged all of them, but that's just not the kind of relationship they have.)

Anyway, they did stay the night. And the sun came out in the morning, and the day full of activities improved morale as expected. Teddy told DH by 1:00pm that he was already glad they had stayed. They did archery, axe-throwing (I don't think I knew about this before they went--probably just as well), string burning contest, knot-tying--wherein Teddy tied 3 perfect square knots!), campfire skits, etc., etc.

Unfortunately, the rain came back on Sunday morning, as they were packing up to go home. At least this time, they had daylight to work with. Once they arrived home, they both took HOT showers immediately, and showed no inclination to leave the house unless absolutely forced to.

Barley and I had missed them while they were gone. But not as much as they missed being home, I think.

The original camping story

Our first camping trip was a Disaster, with a capital D. We were absolute greenhorns. We borrowed camping equipment from friends, not being entirely committed to the idea.

We got the cliched slanted campsite that had no flat space in it and every bit of food we put on the picnic table rolled off and into the dirt. Barley at age 18 months was absolutely dirt-phobic. He would have an utter meltdown at the slightest speck of dirt on his hand, and wail until I wiped his hand clean. Given that we were camping IN dirt, this made for a challenging time. Birds pecked all our sandwich bread, and the corn on the cob I was trying to grill fell into the coals.

Everyone else had these lovely Coleman campstoves that just TURNED ON, but I had borrowed from a hiker friend. His so-called campstove looked like 3 paperclips put together, and we never managed to get it lit the whole trip. This link shows a similar style camping stove, thought not the exact brand we borrowed. We learned later that we needed to pump the fuel into the hose before attempting to light it--didn't know that at the time. Fortunately, more experienced friends took pity on us and fed us through the weekend.

On the upside, the tent worked fine, and the playpen we brought for Barley (age 1.5) took up 60% of the interior space. DH, Teddy, and I squeezed in all snug in the remaining space of the tent. The river running through the site had a little beach to explore, and a playground for the young ones.

We also got to witness Teddy's first older kid idolization. The older brother of a playgroup friend caught Teddy's attention, and he followed this boy around all weekend. Teddy was almost 5, and the "boy in the yellow shirt" as he was called (Teddy has trouble with names) was 8, I think? Anyway, upon witnessing him change a bike tire, Teddy said to me admiringly, "He is a very wise man". He invited the boy in the yellow shirt to our site, and plied him with fruit, and McDonald's toys. It was very sweet to watch.

Now, the boy in the yellow shirt was very familiar with this campground, and knew all the fun places to check out. His yellow shirt got progressively more brown as the weekend went on. At one point, he made a statement that perfectly summed up the attitude we all came to adopt. He pointed at his absolutely filthy shirt, and said, "In the language of dirt, THIS is how much FUN I am having!!!" He was having a LOT of fun, let me tell you!

So, we did enjoy the trip, despite all the stress (and in hindsight, despite my raging hormones). We went on the same camping trip the next year, but opted to pay through the nose to stay in one of the onsite cabins instead. Fridge, microwave, real beds, and flush toilets in the middle of the night kept us sane until the boys got old enough for us to try tent camping again. Which we have, and now enjoy. We even upgraded to a bigger tent last year, when the boys complained that the queen size air mattress did not leave enough room for their sleeping bags. Now we all have inflatable mattresses. We believe in our creature comforts when camping.