When I was a child, I immersed myself in the tales of Lucy Thompson and her escapades on the vast plains of Minnesota. I inhaled the pages of those books and was captivated by the TV show featuring a charming girl with braided hair navigating her way through life by the banks of a serene creek. I longed to be that girl, fishing after school and dreaming of riding in a covered wagon.
But here’s the truth: watching a show about a pioneer girl is one thing; actually living that lifestyle today, with the luxury of air conditioning and indoor plumbing, is absurd.
Camping? It’s Dreadful.
And when you throw kids into the mix, it’s even worse.
Honestly, I can’t fathom why anyone would willingly pack their belongings, drive to the woods, unpack everything, and then live like cavemen for three days. Plus, I’m not thrilled about the idea of a flimsy tent being my sole barrier between me, my children, and a lurking grizzly bear.
I truly dislike camping.
But, my family adores it, and therein lies the dilemma.
My partner and kids rave about the beauty of waking up to a sunrise over a lake. They gush over the idea of “unplugging” and feeling so in tune with nature that they could be characters from a fairy tale. They even talk about how delicious hot dogs taste when roasted over a fire that took hours to start because no one thought to pack matches.
I suspect the reason they enjoy camping is that I do all the heavy lifting when it comes to planning and preparing our portable home. They have no clue just how much effort goes into packing for a temporary residence in the middle of nowhere and can’t possibly understand how many marshmallows are required or how many baby wipes I need to keep everyone clean.
Camping is Exhausting.
There’s a lot of folding and unfolding involved. Upon arriving at our campsite, I spend what feels like an eternity figuring out where the tent poles go. Then, after three days of sharing close quarters with my now-sweaty family, I have to dismantle our wilderness abode. Once we’re back home, I have to air out the tent because it smells like a combination of sweat and smoke. All in all, I spend 288 minutes dealing with the tent alone—time I can’t get back.
Camping is Stressful.
When my family insists on a woodland getaway, my biggest concern is the bathroom situation. To spare you the details, I’m what some might call a “home pooper,” and let me tell you: public toilets are not where I feel most at ease. As if camping-induced constipation isn’t enough, I often find myself awake at 2 a.m. playing “How badly do I need to pee?” On a scale of 1 to “I’ll wet my sleeping bag,” I have to weigh the dire need to locate my glasses and flashlight and trek to the restroom. This kind of stress is not something I want in my life.
Camping Can Be Incredibly Annoying.
I’m convinced that air mattress manufacturers intentionally create tiny holes in every mattress they produce. I’ve never encountered an air mattress that doesn’t leak. And let’s be honest, real campers sleeping on the ground under the stars? No thanks. If I’m stuck in a nylon bedroom, I certainly don’t want to be lying on a rock all night.
Kudos to those who find joy in camping—I’m just not one of those people. I won’t apologize for disliking hair that smells like smoke for days or for wanting food that isn’t prepared using tiny grills and utensils that fit in my pocket. Unless it involves a luxury RV parked next to a coffee shop with reliable Wi-Fi, you won’t catch me at the next campsite strumming a guitar and singing Kumbaya.
So, family, enjoy your camping trips. Because, to put it simply, camping really isn’t for me.
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Summary:
Camping is an experience I both dread and dislike, especially when my family enjoys it so much. The stress, exhaustion, and annoyances that come with setting up tents, dealing with nature’s bathroom situations, and managing air mattresses make it less than appealing for me. However, it’s clear that my family revels in the adventure, leaving me to navigate my own feelings about it.