O Lord, such a treat to watch our oldest grandchild march with her college band on Family Day. But after the director invited visitors to a practice workout with our kids, OMG, I’m glad I’ve always been a singer!
O Lord, so thankful for a fabulous time in Indiana’s Brown County State Park with the entire Phillips clan. But OMG, if we grow any more, the next time, we might break the bridge!
O Lord, You know that once upon a time, my cousins and I were less than saintly — especially, together. But OMG, we’ve come a long way. Um … we have, haven’t we?
Though Hubby and I now own a pop-up camper, we remained tent campers for two decades. As still-married experts, we offer advice to those planning to bail out tents.
A truly memorable experience depends on preparation.
- Get away from it all, a hundred miles from the nearest laundromat. Confirm beforehand that hand dryers in the campground’s restrooms haven’t worked since 1979.
- Pack anything that holds more than one teaspoon under your spare tire. Then forget where you packed your bailing aids.
- Do not pack clothing and towels in waterproof garbage bags. Plan to stack them in your tent so during a deluge, every fiber will absorb its proper quota of water. Your clothes may sprout toadstools. Your towels will weigh more than chunks of firewood. But you won’t drown. You want to survive to do this again, don’t you?
Tips, once you’ve arrived at your site:
- Place air mattresses under sleeping bags. These will promote comfort and dryness — unless the youth group that borrowed them wore cleats.
- Store all food in your tent so 37 hungry raccoons will assist in your bailing experience.
- Given that all bailing vessels are buried under your spare tire, a husband’s tennis shoes work well, especially if you’re mad because he talked you into tent camping.
- If a nagging wife’s sleeping bag has remained dry while yours is drenched, use hers to sop up the flood.
- A more relaxed approach: If spouses awaken to find air mattresses afloat, she can remind him he always wanted to go white water rafting. He can remind her she always wanted a pool. Add sunglasses and drinks with little paper umbrellas, then enjoy a facsimile of the vacation you really wanted.
The above assumes no children accompanied you. If they have, thunder will send them diving, slimy and screaming, into your sleeping bag. Remember, you and your spouse must set a positive example for future years, should they marry people with tents.
- Instigate a family sing-along while you bail. “The Ants Go Marching” lends a steady rhythm to keep everyone working in the fun tradition of galley slaves. Avoid “There Shall Be Showers of Blessing.” Despite the song’s superior spiritual content, neighbors — also bailing — may not appreciate its profundity.
- Start a water fight. You can’t get much wetter, right? (So what, if it’s 4:30 a.m.)
- If water rises past kids’ knees, give them impromptu swimming lessons.
- If water rises to your youngest child’s neck, enjoy sleeping in the car. Family togetherness — that’s why you planned this, right? Because you’ve always dreamed of sleeping, entwined with two kids, under a steering wheel …
And achieving that special marital chemistry that comes only with bailing out a tent.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What tent camping tips can you offer?
O Lord, thank You for a blue-sky, storybook day when we picked strawberries with hard-working grandchildren. But when Grandma nearly set their house on fire while baking soupy pies, OMG, thank You that they — and our daughter — still love me.
O Lord, thank You for grandsons whose energy output could light Chicago. You know that not too long ago, I easily outraced them. Now, however, my slow legs and weighty derriere always bring up the rear. OMG, even the two-year-old — especially, the two-year-old! — leaves me in the dust.
O Lord, thank You for the joy of picking blueberries with our son and his sons. Though, OMG, You’re so right! For accurate payment, we should have weighed the two-year-old before and after. No blueberries in his bucket, but plenty inside.