Fast-forward 2 years...Chris is leading the college and career class at church, we are expecting our first baby, and we've enjoyed 24 blissful months with nary a mention of anything camping-related. ("Blissful" might be an overstatement...just maybe...but it helps make what happened next all the more horrifying.) It probably should be restated that Chris and I were the only married people involved in this expedition because only single people would knowingly embark on such a suicide mission.
Overkill? Sorry...call me jaded.
SO...our friend Dusty (yes, we're still friends...no, I've never forgiven her) was in charge of activity planning. Imagine my disgust when she announced that we'd be taking a trip to Georgia for a weekend camping adventure at Stone Mountain. I thought we were friends...I was clearly mistaken. The trip included a Braves game among other fun activities, but she lost me at "camping." However, in an effort to not be "that girl," I agreed to go along with the plan. I arrogantly thought I'd plan so well this time, it would eliminate previously made errors. ***Yea...go ahead and start laughing now.
My plan included plenty of food and an air mattress...both of which would've vastly improved my previous "adventure." (We agreed to leave the sleeping bag and tent part to the guys with loads of camping gear.) Of course, I should mention that my previous camping trip was not taken while 8 months pregnant...in August...in Georgia. I know...I know...all I can say is that I'm stubborn enough to think I could WILL it to go well. ***Insert second gut laughter here.
We arrived at the campsite Friday evening, full of excitement and joy...you can probably guess where this is headed...
I went about my administrative duties...as any good wife of the leader would do (hold the applause till the end please)...checking in groups and making sure everyone had what they needed and were accounted for...while "the guys" (you know who you are) set up our tent for us, including the much-needed air mattress.
By the time we got back to our site, it was getting pretty dark so we tried to get settled quickly. (Again I must mention the sweltering heat and my very pregnant self...picture it...it's the key to the tragedy.) I refused to let myself complain to the rest of the group...everyone kept questioning whether I would be able to do the trip because of the pregnancy...and I tried to do the same with my hubby. I tried.
The guys had set up a 2 man tent ("because there's 2 of you"), blown up the air mattress, and placed it snuggly inside the tent. So thoughtful. The problem was, we were more like 2 3/4 people, and the air mattress left very little room for moving...or breathing. I couldn't crawl into the tent so I had to shimmy myself in, inch by ridiculous inch, on top of the mattress. Imagine, if you will, a reverse army crawl...in the dark...climbing into a cave...on an incline...dripping sweat...balancing a beach ball, no - a boulder, on your stomach...yea, that's about it. After much effort, I found my sweaty self sandwiched...backside on the mattress...belly touching the top of the tent. Oh. my. word.
I had taken my contacts out and switched to glasses before all this started...so between my gargantuan effort to get in the tent and the August heat, my glasses were completely fogged so that I could see nothing. I was reluctant to take them off at this point, though, because I was convinced there were things crawling on the mattress! I was left with the only option...take off glasses, wipe on anything dry (which continually grew difficult to find), return to sweaty face...repeat until you're brain is mush and you need to be admitted. (And let me tell you, I would've gone gladly anywhere there was an indoor bed at that point.)
Remember...belly on top of tent, husband also in tent, pouring sweat, glasses fogging/wiping, husband actually chuckling about the visual picture and saying, "C'mon...you gotta admit it's kind of funny!", pregnant women crying while struggling to breathe and stay positive...and sane. There's only so much a person can take...and when I found myself shoving my head out of the tent to catch a breath...the dam broke. It got ugly real fast. I remember shimming backwards out of that tent, falling out onto the ground, happy to breathe again. No way was I getting back in that sardine can. By this time, everyone had long fallen asleep and knowing it wouldn't accomplish anything to wake them up anyway, we slept in the church van. You know the one with the vinyl seats? It was so hot, your skin would stick and then peel away every time you moved. So...mostly I just tried to be still...not easy for a preggo. But it was so much better than that tent, I really was grateful.
When we woke up the next morning, a group of puzzled "happy campers" were knocking on the van windows, trying to figure out what was going on. We explained...I apologized for not being able to make it work in their tent...we assured them we were just fine. (didn't want to complain and all...)
Imagine...just imagine...my face when they responded, "Why didn't you just come get us? We have much bigger tents in the trailer...we could've just set up a new one for you! Should we do that?"
Excuse me, what??? (Remember...single guys...good hearts...but...) I bit my tongue...there's still a scar...while Chris said, "Sure...that'd be great...thanks!)
That night we had a tent so large, we had it divided into rooms. No joke. I went from touching the roof of the tent with my belly to not being able to touch it when jumping! Oh those boys....
Yep...should've stuck with the princess angle...I can assure I'm quicker to give my camping opinion 14 years later!
Strike Two!
No comments:
Post a Comment