Tales of the Camping Mamas

I remembered the underwear, a plethora of underwear actually that magically needed no laundering upon returning home. Little boys are funny.  But I forgot the swim trunks and my hairbrush. Thankfully, neither are absolutely necessary when camping; where improvisation is key.

It was two moms, two boys, two nights and countless fun and moments to remember.  Having paid our dues in prior years, with tent set up + take down and sleeping on the ground [or attempting to] on air mattresses that never quite have enough air, we upgraded ourselves to a yurt this year. For the non-campers, a visual aid is provided.

This was like the Ritz-Carlton to us – actual beds, a lamp, a heater [that was never needed] a skylight, and a real door that could be passed through without feeling like we had entered a page in Alice in Wonderland or The Hunchback  – no shrinking of our tall selves was required.

We weren’t the only ones who loved the yurt, while the boys were chillin’ on the bunkbed,  a bird flew into our humble abode. After an unsuccessful attempt to nicely have the bird find it’s own accommodations, we engaged the help of the park ranger.  This is big stuff apparently, our bird in the yurt was the talk of the park staff meeting.  That, and the keurig coffee machine we saw plugged in- in the ladies restroom.

Surrounded by pine trees, amazing mountains and quiet, except for the wind rustling through the aspens, we surrendered our phones, computers, iPods, etc. Our entertainment came from books, trees, lakes, sticks, bed-heads of epic proportions, our own imagination and for the boys, the campfire.  I don’t have a daughter, so I am not 100% sure, but there seems to be a genetic vein of pyro that runs through boys…can anyone dispel my theory?

There is something so soothing and nourishing about focusing on the simple tasks at hand, preparing food, rolling a sleeping bag, walking to the showers – the simple day to day tasks are admittedly more of a challenge in Mother Nature’s house, but it’s as if she is gently pulling us in, saying, ‘sit down and rest my dear‘. While in her house, we are allowed to rest our brains for a few days, slip into the rote actions of life and forget the rest of the world and all it’s worries.

The food tastes better.

Sipping wine among the trees and around a campfire with a perfect friend, is well, nothing short of amazing.

Hiking into the forest, while heart pumping and sweat-inducing, is awe inspiring

But it’s these boys that take my breath away.

But, what photos cannot capture are what will remain etched in my memory: two boys asking, in one moment, how far they can wander into the woods without supervision and in the next, asking their mama’s to snuggle in zipped-together sleeping bags. Two boys, who with such confidence, blazed ahead on the trail well beyond our sight, feeling proud beyond measure and then being overheard saying they wished mother-son camping lasted three nights.

The smell of campfire smoke in my still clean, unworn and overpacked clothing, that upon returning home, I refuse to wash. I want to keep that scent of days away from it all with my boy reminding me of a special time, even if  just for a few lingering days.

Two friends raising  their boys together sitting side by side without a word needed because we know that we are the kind of friends where the silence is just like having another friend along.  And asking each other, ‘what percent are you at?” while reading the same book on their kindles.

Driving down the highway and hearing the words, “mom crank it up”  and then the sweet voices of two boys uninhibited and free, singing along and knowing all the words, and the  knowing glances between moms with grins from ear to ear. We are full with the moment; we know it is fleeting. And really hoping they have no idea what the lyrics really mean!

The cleanest clean that comes from a 3 minute 4 quarter shower and the feeling of slipping on a fresh pair of pants, socks and sweatshirt after a day of living in the dirt.

The first sip of wine around the campfire.

Waking up and seeing the clear blue sky and the tippy tops of amazing trees through the skylight in our Ritz, yurt.

I surveyed my posse, “what is your favorite part of mother son camping?”:

Boy 1:  the campfire

Mom 1: the quiet, the unplugged-ness of it

Boy 2: roasting things in the campfire

{ I tell ya, it’s genetic! }

Mom 2 {me}: here is the best way I can give you my answer: As we started driving down the mountain, sun-drenched and beginning our trek home, the sun shining, blue skies and a gentle breeze blowing through the car, this song played on the radio. We sang along and I answered, “it’s right here. Right here”

As we drive away, all these memories are tucked away safely, imprinted upon us.

But, we will be back!

Oh, and how could I ever forget the campfire cones!?  Oh my, campfire cones! They deserve their own post, so check back tomorrow for the full scoop!