Now I'm too cranky after cleaning all the camping gear to wax romantically. I think I need some time to gain prospective. Perhaps clear the fog from my mind after sleeping with a root in my back one night and a deluge of rain the next.
We won't discuss the rolling to the corner of the tent because of the dramatic grade of our tent. Nor the velcro sticking my head to my sleeping bag. Not even the blisters will we discuss. Nope, we'll keep mum, meditate a lot, and glamorize our fabu trip in the morning, 'kay?
I'm positive tomorrow will make camping seem all butterflies and sunshine (which it was) marred by the boys rolling in mud on a short stop on the way home. They rode home in their underwear because I refused to let the mud-caked shoes and splattered clothes in my car. Mean mommy.
A friend (and Eldest's best friends) caught us as we just arrived home. His friends barrelled into the car and Eldest met his consequences in being humiliated while in his Power Ranger underoos. Maybe he'll stop and think next time he rolls in mud, eh? Nah! I doubt it. He's had a series of consequences since we've been home. I can't say the other two are much better. Need to take deep breaths.
Ah, the great outdoors!