One of the highlights for our family is our annual camping trip. Well, one of the highlights for most of our family. My husband loves camping. My children love camping. I love my husband and children, so I plan a camping trip every summer. But, for the record, I do not like camping.
It's not that I'm not outdoorsy. I spend most of my life outdoors with the kids, doing active outdoorsy kinds of things - swimming, biking, hiking, walking; pools, parks, beaches, botanical gardens, trails, ravines, splash pads. I like the outdoors. But - not for living.
My husband and sons don't have the same hangups about comfortable beds and proper plumbing, evidently, so I tolerate camping for a night or two at a time.
And it is fun.
Hanging out on the beach all afternoon building sandcastles and swimming in the lake. Long walks through the quiet, overgrown woods. Burgers and corn grilled over the campfire. Watching the children's excitement as they dance around the campfire waving sparklers and roasting marshmallows, their glow sticks and bracelets and necklaces tracing an eerie neon trail through the nighttime darkness outside the fire. A few quiet cocktailing moments with my husband by the fire when the kids are tucked away in their tent for the night.
Camping will never be my first choice for a family outing, but since the rest of the family loves it, it's slowly becoming another tradition - and, of course, another memory made.
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