Anyone that knows me in real life knows that I’m about as outdoorsy as a hole in the head.  I refuse to pee in the woods.  I’m not particularly fond of sitting in grass while wearing shorts because I swear that the ants *know* and will be hightailing it up my shorts legs in about five seconds.  I really like hiking, but have been a little squicked out this year about the exploding tick population.

When I was in college I worked as a camp counselor two years during the summer.  And I loved the camp and my kids.  But once a week we were supposed to take the kids to one of the camping sites, pitch a tent and do the pseudo camping thing.  I will honestly admit that I prayed for rain every.single.week.  We could sweep the dirt for an hour and I’d still end up with a root shooting into my back.  Or I would end up being eaten alive by mosquitos despite having a layer of bug spray an inch thick.  And the worst… getting everything all set and ready to go and then having to pee, knowing that I could either try to make it back to the main camp (15 minutes through the woods) or find a tree to squat behind.  With bugs.  And poison ivy. 

The first summer, my co-counselor was the outdoors type of girl and it wasn’t always easy to hide my stress.  And it really was stress inducing… camping went way beyond general dislike and stretched into my stomach twisting in knots.  At least once that summer my co-counselor had to help me down the path in the middle of the night with a tiny flashlight to get me back to our cabin because I had worked myself into being physically ill.

The second summer I was luckier because my co-counselor hated camping with a passion that rivaled mine, and with two of us doing the rain dance each week we only had to take the kids camping once all summer long.

Since I met my husband, I’ve been asked multiple times to go camping either with other couples or other families.  And I always get that look like I’ve suddenly sprouted six heads when I explain that to me, camping is on par with juggling porcupines.  Or swimming in a kiddie pool with a school of Man-o-War jellyfish.  Or dancing naked down the middle of the street with my hair on fire.

So it came as a slight shock to me when I saw the new Coleman camping equipment commercial and felt a bit of want.  The commercial itself is brilliant… declaring Coleman to be the original networking site and showing video and pictures of camping families back in the 1960s and 1970s.  People are smiling and happy and whole families are spending time together out in the wild.  None of them look as though they are being tortured, and I admit I want a bit of that syrupy joy.  I’m never going to be the outdoors, camping in the middle of nowhere, type of girl.  It’s just not going to happen.  Too much wilderness and bugs in places they shouldn’t be and poison ivy and roots in my back.

But if y’all will excuse me, I’m going to plan where I’m going to pitch a tent in my backyard.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Krysta
    Jun 29, 2010 @ 19:53:34

    You know, that thing we are going to in September allows camping. ;). Just sayin’

    Reply

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