Beaches and Banana Slugs (aka: Camping is Boring)

“Camping is boring.”

I stared in shock at my 16yo, whom I had taken camping nearly every summer since he was a baby. “Boring?” I repeated. “How do you figure?”

Apparently, there was nothing to do while camping. No computer games, no WiiU, no skate park or Pokémon Go-ing. Nothing to do but swing in a hammock and stare at trees.

“Can’t we take a trip to a city and stay in a hotel instead?” he asked.

I laughed. Then I set the kids to work planning camping menus, writing packing lists, and stuffing the family minivan with sleeping bags, tents, and other well-worn gear for living in the wilderness. Okay, sort of wilderness. The truth is, we are not backpack-in-the-wild, cache-your-food-in-a-tree, filter-water-from-a-pond campers (much to my disappointment). We are more like state park campers with Coleman gear and a screen house to hide from mosquitoes and yellowjackets. But hey — we’re still getting “Out There.”

 

Our family has camped pretty much all throughout Northern California — Mt. Shasta, Mt. Lassen, and all throughout the Sierra Nevada. We’ve seen gorgeous waterfalls, amazing rock structures, and endless night skies smeared with clusters of brilliant stars. This time, we chose to camp at Big Basin, a huge state park nestled in the Santa Cruz Mountains. We’d been there once before, but decided to return, drawn by the impressive beauty of the giant sequoia trees, not to mention the lack of bears. I love everything about camping except for bears. Especially at night. We pitched our tents, then did the usual camping stuff. We sat around in camping chairs, reading books and laughing over Mad Libs stories. We marveled over chipmunks and the horrid caws of Stellar’s Blue Jays. We spotted a slimy, adorable banana slug and dared each other to touch it. We grilled pizzas and toasted marshmallows and sang silly camp songs. So boring, I know.

 

On day two, we went for a long hike through the forest. We climbed on huge fallen logs and stood inside the hollowed-out trunks of some of the tallest, grandest trees on earth. Afterward, we had soft-serve ice cream at the camp store, then relaxed at camp with Uno cards and other travel games. “But Mom, there’s no Wi-Fi or cell phone service,” said the 16yo, his expression grumpy. “This is so bo-ring!”

 

The next day, we drove down the mountain toward the ocean. Then my three kids rode roller coasters and built sandcastles at the shore while I lay on the beach, devouring a good book under our huge sport umbrella. (The 16yo barely glanced at his phone, although he had service once again).  Later that evening, we returned to camp to enjoy one last evening around the campfire, where I entertained the kids by telling a super-scary story about a scarecrow who came to life.

At last, our camping trip drew to a close. We stuffed away the sleeping bags and tents and loaded up the family minivan. We cleaned up every last trace of our visit, so that the next campers could enjoy a clean campsite as we had. Then we drove away, waving goodbye to the sequoia trees and chipmunks and banana slugs — the only witnesses to our days of music and laughter, our nights of board games and reading books side-by-side under the glow of a propane lantern. No cell phones. No television. No computer screens to keep our family from truly connecting, if only for a few summer days.

Camping is so boring. Thank goodness.

 

Blue Candy Canes (aka: The Sophisticated Christmas Tree)

Playmobil train“This year,” said my two oldest kids, “we want a sophisticated Christmas tree. Not a kiddie tree.” Apparently, a kiddie tree is the type we have had every year since forever – a neon-bright mishmash of kid-made ornaments, mismatched balls, and twinkling colored lights, complete with a Playmobil electric train zipping around the base. And candy canes – lots and lots of traditional, red-and-white candy canes, for snacking on during the days leading up to Christmas.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Our tree has always looked so lovely. And we have so many fun ornaments.”

“We’re sure,” said the kids. And so, we went out to purchase new sophisticated ornaments. Instead of plastic reindeer and smiling Santas, we adorned our tree with delicate bulbs and glass trinkets, all nature-themed and color-coordinated. If it wasn’t silver, gold, white, or blue, it was not allowed to hang on our branches. Our fragrant noble fir had been transformed into the beautiful snob-girl of Christmas trees. sophisticated Xmas decorations

The tree is as lovely as ever. But I must admit that my heart twisted just a little to see it. Yes, I know. Time marches on. Children grow up. Nothing can remain the same. And it was only a matter of time before my kids would begin to venture out of Neverland, and stop hearing Santa Claus’s magical sleigh bells. We still sang the old carols and decked the halls. We still munched on kettle corn and sipped mugs of thick hot cocoa. Our home is still filled with Christmas – but everything is somehow different. And our grown-up Christmas tree is a wistful reminder that childhood does not last forever.

“Wait! We forgot something,” said my fifteen year-old, studying the tree. “Where are the candy canes?” His smile faded as I explained to him that candy canes belonged on kiddie trees, not sophisticated trees. “Well,” he said after a moment’s thought, “maybe it’s okay if our tree is a little bit kiddie.”

blue and silver tree

This is not really our tree. But it looks very similar. Minus the sea horses.

My heart did a happy cartwheel. All is not lost. Tomorrow, I plan to purchase a couple of boxes of candy canes (blue, of course). Then maybe, I will try and talk the kids into setting up the non-sophisticated Playmobil electric train around the base of the Christmas tree, too. For old time’s sake.