My husband loves camping. Where most people look forward to warmer weather, I dread it a little bit because I know what it means. It means that my husband will start making comments about how much fun camping is and how he can’t wait to take the kids on an adventure.
For those who know me, I’m sure the idea of me going camping probably causes you to spit out the beverage you are drinking and start choking with laughter. Being a New Yorker, camping is not something that comes naturally to me.
Martinis and Minivans is a blog about a New Yorker now living the Midwest life as a writer, mother, and woman on the never-ending quest to be hip. Danielle Herzog is a native Long Islander from a ridiculously large Italian family where she doesn’t know the names of all of her cousins. She loves being in the Midwest but still doesn’t understand what May Day is and why everybody is so nice. You can find her at nights after the kids are in bed writing on her computer with an episode of The Real Housewives of Any City in the background.
An example – when my family went to Disney World and we stayed at the Wilderness Lodge, a very pretty resort that is made to look “elegantly rustic,” my mom turned to my husband, looking at the wood beams on the ceiling and forest landscape paintings, and said “Now this is my idea of camping.”
So being new to camping, I was incredibly nervous and apprehensive about the experience the first time I went. On top of that, I was seven months pregnant . However, I must admit – I really enjoyed it – in the beginning of the day. Of course, it was camping “lite” for the most part – we were on a campsite, had a pool and a lake on the property, double-high air mattress, s'mores, and a plethora of lawn games to play. I would compare it to an extended barbeque.
However, it went from camping “lite” to camping “very dark” when a tornado warning was issued in the middle of the night. We woke up at 1 a.m. to the sounds of thunder and a bright show of lightning around us.
I, of course, had to use the bathroom for the fourth time that night and tried not to focus on the sound of rain making it worse. My in-laws called to tell us the sirens were going off for tornadoes about 50 miles away so we woke up our friends and off to the car we all went to attempt to sleep until the storm passed. I began to sing verses of “Sloop John B” focusing on the line, “I want to go home…please let me go home…” I don’t think my fellow car members were impressed with my vocal abilities at that hour of the morning.
Come morning, I suggested that we forgo cooking on the open fire and hit the nearest McDonald's for breakfast. Luckily, my suggestion was received with open arms and so we toasted our camping experience over a Sausage McMuffin and bid the KOA campground goodbye.
So now he wants to go back. The question is – will our children inherit Matt’s love of the great outdoors or will they get my ability to make reservations at a nice hotel. Maybe we’ll just start with a tent in the living room and put on The Discovery Channel…