The duct tape that saved the day.
I thought I’d emerge from this camping trip with some profound words of wisdom. Woman of the Woods, So Independent, WE CAN DO IT, etc etc.
And I do feel pretty…if not badass, certainly something approaching it.
(OK, I feel pretty cool. Go check out my IG stories if you haven’t seen them yet; they involve spending two hours armed with a 4-inch-tall LED lantern, all ready to battle the beast that started stalking around outside our tent at 3AM one morning.)
I mean, we had fun. We got as dirty as humanly possible (did you know that Fiber Fix leaves a very attractive black layer that looks exactly like mud on human hands, and then does not come off for three days (and counting)? True story). We ate with our hands, and blasted Michael Jackson, and stayed up too late. The kids huddled under my cot in their “hideout,” and ferried Tostitos up to their “neighbor” (me) while I read almost an entire book (!). We built fires from scratch (had to Google that one), had scavenger hunts for “funny bugs” and “creepy bugs,” and found a little shop in town selling crystals. I taught my son how to use a pendulum and let him buy a little gold Hamsa hand.
It was great. It really was. And it wasn’t even that hard (aside from the set up and break down, oh my goddd).
But just because I could do it alone doesn’t mean I wanted to.
And just because it was fun doesn’t mean that it didn’t break my heart.
(Last two photos by my son.)