Top things I miss the most after leaving Houston, Texas

As promised here is my companion piece to the post about things I’m glad to leave behind in our move from Houston to Washington, DC. This time I pine for the things I find myself missing already.
1. World-class medical facilities. Yes, I know that other cities have good doctors and hospitals, but no other can boast of the world’s largest medical center, all within a couple miles from home. First-rate women’s hospital? Check. Pediatric urologist? Check. Pediatric ophthalmologist? Check. When I contract some rare disease on our future exotic family travel adventures, I’ma come back to Houston for treatment.
2. Chiles Rellenos at Taco Milagro. I have certain dishes I’ll always miss from the places I’ve lived. In western New York it was the pad thai at Mamasan’s; in California, it was the veggie burger and fries at Bishop Burger (now closed, I’m told) and the Sweet Basil Tofu at Thai-rrific. Not only is Taco Milagro where I discovered my passion for sipping tequila, but one of their signature dishes is vegetarian. The chiles rellenos at Taco Milagro are poblano peppers stuffed with cheese (worth falling off the dairy-free wagon), dried apricots and nuts, smothered in a tasty sauce and served with rice and beans. Absolute heaven. Especially with a fine tequila.
3. Central Market. Is there another grocery store in the country that can hold a candle to this cathedral of food? Fresh produce for miles, an extensive and comprehensive bulk foods department, world-class bakery featuring store-made whole-wheat tortillas (sometimes still warm!) and chocolate cherry bread, excellent prepared foods and a decent floral department.
4. Low cost of living. As we just moved to one of the most expensive housing markets in the nation, I will look back and remember that in Houston a quarter of a million dollars (in 2002) got us a very nice three-bedroom ranch with pool close in to where we work. In DC, that won’t even buy you a decent studio apartment.
5. Reasonable traffic. What? Anyone who lives in a mansion in Pearland or Katy fights horrendous traffic on a daily basis. So how can I count this among the things I miss about Houston? Two reasons. I lived close in (see above) and didn’t have to get on the crowded freeway everyday. And everyday trips to run errands did not involve logistical planning to figure out whether parking is available, or free, or what combination of Metro stations or bus routes are involved. If I needed to run an errand, I got in my car, drove a short distance, parked, shopped and returned home. Simple.

You know it’s time to leave Houston when…

As I celebrate the sale of our house in Houston, which we left four months ago for our next big adventure in DC, I’ve become contemplative about my hometown of the last 13 years. Raised in western New York, I never in a million years expected a Texas city to become the place I would live the longest since leaving my parents’ home at age 17. I originally came to Houston on a temporary assignment and expected to stay no more than two years. Yet as the years passed, the first house was purchased, two li’l Texans were spawned, and Houston came to feel like home, if always a little surprisingly. The city has a lot to offer, as a companion piece will argue, but there are aspects I’ll gladly leave behind, some tongue-in-cheek and others dead serious.

You know it’s time to leave Houston and Texas when…

1. You start using “fixing to” in everyday speech. I’m fixing to prune that sago this weekend.
1. You’ve had to stop yourself from dropping the ‘g’ in “fixing to” in written prose.
2. You hear yourself using the expression “might could” in conversation. I might could use the number of a good contractor.
3. You’d like once again to eat restaurant beans prepared without pig parts.
4. You can cross “live through a hurricane” off your adventure bucket list.
5. The second spring in a row is too hot and drought-stricken to grow anything but salvia and purslane.
6. Your monthly summer water bill hits triple digits with no end in sight due to a historic, catastrophic drought.
7. You’re tired of the risk of heat stroke severely curtailing your outdoor activities in the very season when the kids are out of school and daily sunlight hours are at their peak.
1. The mosquitoes keep you indoors even when the daytime temperatures start to drop.
8. For months on end even 5:30 am isn’t early enough to escape the heat and humidity on your run.
9. You’ve had enough entertainment and lifestyle news to last a lifetime and want a local paper that reports actual news on its homepage.
10. Your child’s science teacher says she presents the theory of evolution in biology class because it is forced upon her but she knows the real truth.
1. There are many such science teachers in the public school system.
11. The so-called Texas Miracle of growth amid the economic downturn is about to turn into a nightmare as funding for public schools is cut by billions of dollars.

Admittedly this was written some months ago when the temperatures were still blazing. And maybe the mid-Atlantic summer to come will prove to be just as hellish. But I doubt it. And no Houston autumn can come close to the perfection we’ve been enjoying this year. I think I’ll stay awhile.

No Men or Baby Sisters Allowed: Camping at Lake Houston Park

I’ve officially graduated from camping school. No more hand-holding, no more clinics on campfire cooking or tent erection. We’re going solo now.

Our second, immensely more successful camping trip with the Texas Outdoor Family program last fall at beautiful Huntsville State Park emboldened me to try something that only six months ago would have seemed crazy reckless: camping without Papa Bear. A few weeks ago Papa Bear decided rather at the last minute to fly East with Baby Bear to visit his family. The special occasion was a too-rare stateside visit by his brother, now living an expat life in Ireland. I agreed to stay home and keep Sister Bear in school during the 6-day trip. Since Baby Bear was going to get all kinds of loving from Papa Bear’s family, and I dreaded trying to keep a five-year-old entertained at home by myself over the weekend, I started looking around for something special for me and Sister Bear to do together.

After a brief internet search I discovered a well-kept secret less than an hour from my house. Lake Houston Wilderness Park used to be part of the Texas State Park system until it was given over to the city to maintain. It’s large for a city park but on the smaller side as state parks go and has only two dozen campsites. I reasoned that if disaster struck or we hated the park we could be home in 45 minutes. So, despite Sister Bear’s cold, off we went for some girls-only camping. No men or baby sisters allowed!

The day was getting long when we arrived on Friday evening. As the friendly ranger chatted on about the park and the activities scheduled for the weekend all I could think was didn’t practice tent set-up in dark; must pitch tent before nightfall. I let slip that this was the first time we had gone camping without my husband. Perhaps my eagerness to get to the site and get set up was interpreted as anxiety about being spouseless because we were visited no less than three times in the next two hours by the ranger and the camp host making sure we were OK. I chose to be grateful that people were looking out for us rather than feel patronized as a solo woman who couldn’t watch out for herself. Camp set-up went as smoothly as I had visualized and before long we were enjoying our pre-packed sandwiches in the dusk.

Sometime during the night a new visitor arrived and managed to set up camp in total darkness with little ruckus. Only the next morning when I espied our neighbor for the first time was my pride at my own meager accomplishment of the night before completely extinguished. The man in the next campsite had set up an enormous tent, canopy, camp table and assorted other paraphernalia, in the dark, with only one arm. When I saw that empty shirt sleeve I was reminded of the quote about Ginger Rogers doing everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels. “In the dark with one arm” is my new mantra whenever I think something I’m about to do is hard.

About Lake Houston Wilderness Park

We stayed in Camp Ironwood loop which had only 8 sites yet is large enough to give everyone plenty of breathing room even at full capacity. Despite the perfect weather half the sites were empty. The loop has basic amenities including a central water and washing station and a dining pavilion with electrical outlets. Tents can be pitched on raised sand beds, which is apparently common in Texas where rain can ruin an outing very quickly. In dry weather this just results in sand getting everywhere. The whole camp area has only one central bathroom facility, and we were as far away from it as possible. Which wasn’t really all that far.

Central water facility at Lake Houston

Red on Yellow, Kill a Fellow

After a low-key breakfast Sister Bear and I set off to explore the trails. One doesn’t really “hike” this part of Texas as it is incredibly flat. So let’s call it a nature walk along the Magnolia and Peach Creek trails. We made it to the nature discovery center in time for the lecture on venomous snakes. Lake Houston is home to four different species of venomous snakes: copperhead, cottonmouth, rattlesnake and, my favorite, coral snake. Despite one erroneous sign there are no poisonous snakes in the park. I never appreciated that these two words are not synonymous. Venomous creatures make you sick if they bite or sting you; poisonous things make you sick if you eat them. The ranger had models of each snake as well as some harmless species that look like the venomous ones. For example, the milk snake is tri-color with red, black and yellow bands like the coral snake but the sequence of bands allows you to distinguish them.This is captured in a memorable mnemonic:

Red on yellow, kill a fellow; [coral]
Red on black, friend to Jack [milk]

After the presentation we viewed the live snake exhibit, which included some of the native venomous snakes. Very cool.

Sister Bear with a live milk snake

The discovery center has a lot to hold one’s attention. And Sister Bear liked it, too. One room was full of insect specimens native to the park, another with mammals, a third with amphibians. We ended up going twice because there was enough to merit a return trip.

Fast Friends

After the excitement of the snake demo had worn off Sister Bear’s energy and interest in camping started to flag. Her mild cold drained some of her normally excessive energy and she started to lobby for us to go home on Saturday afternoon. I was having a great time, enjoying the perfect weather (overcast and 70 F) and utter peace of being in a quiet place outdoors. Salvation came in the form of a young girl and her dad two sites over. I am beginning to appreciate–and not take personally–how much children need the company of their peers. These two girls became effectively inseparable for the next couple of hours, coloring and chatting away while I made nice with Dad and his parents who joined them for the day. I learned a lot from Dad about minimalist camping. While he was car camping this time, he has extensive experience backpacking and most of his gear was that of a backpacker. It got me thinking about how much one really needs to get along in a campground. The contrast between his minimalist style and our most recent camping trip (about which more soon) would prove to be extreme. By the time they broke camp later that afternoon and left we were over the hump and decided to stick it out for the second night.

Night, night, we love the night

One thing I love about camping is being outside after dark. We learned during one of our fall outings to turn off the headlamps and let our eyes adjust to the darkness. Sister Bear was a little intimidated to walk from the bathroom along the unlit road back to the campsite. So I did what I tend to do to get through a tough moment: made up a silly song. More of a chant, really. It goes a little something like this:

Night. night, we love the night
We don’t even need a flashlight
Night, night, we love the night
This is how we walk in the dark

This beat won’t win me a Grammy but it worked like a charm. We also made up a song as we were walking through the woods:

We’re going camping in the woods
We’re having so much fun
We’re going camping in the woods
We’re picking up pine cones
etc.

All in all, we had a great time. Since we’re still so new to this I’m tracking “firsts”. Here are some for this trip:

• First camping trip of more than one night with a child
• First camping trip without a spouse
• First time at Lake Houston Park
• First time touching a milk snake

These may not sound like much but since I’m starting from no experience camping with kids, they seem significant. Even if somebody else can do all that and more with a single arm in the dark.

A Program so Awesome it Overcame Late-night Puke and Other Assorted Disasters

Our first camping expedition with the girls was disastrous to say the least.  Yet, the misery had not yet ended and Papa Bear and I were already talking about the next one. Why? Three words: Texas Outdoor Family. This program has to be one of the best-kept secrets in the entire Lone Star Republic. Run by the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, the program aims to teach camping basics to aspiring family campers. No experience required. In other words, the State of Texas pays park rangers to travel from park to park and spend their weekends out in the woods with people who really have no business being there.

Papa Bear and I each did our fair share of camping as youths. Much of the summers of my childhood growing up in Western New York was spent either sleeping in a pop-up camper or being nauseous from motion sickness in the back of the vehicle that was towing it. We took our camper to favorite haunts close to home, most notably Sprague Brook, as well as more far-flung destinations like Florida and Arizona. With five kids and a single income-earner in the family, camping was a fun and economical way to take family vacations. Papa Bear and I went camping together a few times as adults and still own a small tent, camp stove and sleeping bags but two moves and more than ten years’ time have depleted both our knowledge base and equipment stores. Plus, there’s the whole kid factor now. Still, the itch for outdoor adventure plagues me.

So, I’m scanning through my tweets one day and a person I follow tweets about  participating in a program called, “Outdoor Woman Academy.” Or something.  I  follow the link and read about this weekend program wherein the ladies get together and learn how to navigate without a GPS device (you can do that?), catch dew with a plastic bag and other essential skills for wilderness survival. Cool. Except that the program is in I think Alabama (again, don’t quote me) and I travel enough for work that I can’t really imagine myself stealing from precious family time to go commune in the woods with a bevy of Iron Janes, no matter how fun that sounds. Hmm, I wonder if there’s anything like this in Texas. Insert search terms in box, press return, refine search, repeat, repeat. Voila! Texas Outdoor Family. I email Papa Bear: This is what I want to do for my birthday.

The Texas Outdoor Family Program: Concierge camping

The Texas Outdoor Family program is held at various Texas state parks in autumn and spring, the only times of year sane people would elect to spend time outdoors in this climate. (True, winter can’t truly be called winter here but, remember, this program is aimed at newbie campers. Newbie Texas campers who no doubt start whining about the cold when the temperature drops below 60F.)  Our first-ever camping trip with the girls was at Stephen F. Austin State Park in Sealy, TX, just about an hour from our home. Two days, one night (It’s only one night), all major camping equipment provided, including six-person tent, camp stove, coffee press, air mattress, pads (for kids), lantern, etc. Helpful rangers and park volunteers at hand to demonstrate how to set up and break down camp, cook outdoors and use a GPS  device. Guided nature walks and junior ranger activities for the little ones. All for less money than we would spend dining out. If we even did that anymore.

Ranger Rob with the children

From start to finish, this program was amazing. The pre-trip information materials were detailed and communicated well in advance via the website and snail mail. We even got a call right before the weekend reminding us to bring commonly forgotten items. Too bad jelly wasn’t on their list. Logistical planning was impeccable. As we were sharing the park with a couple of Boy Scout troops, all the campsites reserved for us were marked with custom signs. A printed hour-by-hour schedule of the weekend’s activities was provided along with trail and park maps. Every detail had been considered, down to the provision of brooms to help us sweep out our tents before breaking camp. Every snafu anticipated and prepared for. We personally tested this several times. Extra supplies for boneheads who forgot their charcoal.  I have to confess I was expecting an old moldy tent but the camping equipment was in pretty good condition and they had extra gear in their custom trailer in case it wasn’t. It was the camping equivalent of staying in an upscale hotel with a really helpful, service-oriented concierge on staff. The only thing they could have changed was to have soap in the bathrooms. Eventually someone left a small travel-sized bar in the ladies’. As for whether Papa Bear was washing his hands, I adopted my own Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy.

I could go on and on but the single greatest thing about the program was the people. The rangers and volunteers were never more than a shout away to answer questions, help with a technical question or hold a squirmy pre-schooler during a demo. They toured the campground by foot, bike and truck to inform us about programs start times, drop off our heavy Dutch ovens, check in to see if we were OK. They were infinitely patient with the children, who ranged in age from preteen to infant. We got know a couple of other families as well when our daughters wandered over into their campsites and started rummaging through their food. Some, like us, had long-past or limited camping experience; others had never been camping before in their lives. There was a great spirit of camaraderie that was heartening to experience, especially in the present divisive political climate. At the end of the weekend, when we were attending our little graduation ceremony, one of fathers practically choked up when he thanked the staff on behalf of all 16 families that participated.

Ranger Lennie with the Junior Rangers

Guided nature walk

Papa Bear and I were marveling at how the state could afford to offer this program at such a low price. Answer: generous corporate sponsorship. Duh. That it took us so long to make that connection is a testament to the fact that the rangers never pushed this down our throats. Yeah there were sponsor pamphlets in our packets and logos on the Frisbee and high-quality gimme caps we took home. But you know what? This program rocked so hard that it never bothered me. I would recommend this program without reservation to Texas families looking for a gentle introduction to the outdoors. If your state doesn’t have anything like this, ask for it!

If you missed the account of the late-night puke, here it is
again.

A Total Disaster We Can’t Wait to Repeat: Camping with the Kids

It’s only one night, what can possibly go wrong?

We did it. We are now officially a Texas Outdoor Family and I have the vomit-stained t-shirt to prove it.

My long-term goal is to do some significant adventure travel with the little ones, currently 5 years and almost 3. But, as a rational person, I realize it’s not practical to just head off on a three-month bicycle tour of the Andes without easing las niñas into adventuring. Besides, after a hiatus of about 10 years, Papa Bear and I can’t exactly be called experienced adventurers anymore. Hence the Texas Outdoor Family program, which holds the hands of newbie campers every step of the way during a one-night stay in a Texas State Park. I’ll write in a future post about the amazing TOF program but first I need to download some lessons learned from our first-ever camping trip with the kids.  Here’s how it went.

PREPARATION AND MENU PLANNING

Armed with at least three different camping packing lists, including one from Adventuroo and the one provided by TOF which informs us there will be a Dutch oven mini-clinic our weekend, I begin to put together a menu plan and shopping list. I am obsessed with meal prep. I scour websites looking for vegetarian, dairy-free dutch oven recipes that don’t involve a lot of packaged food (bye-bye dump cake) or cheese (so long cheesy potatoes). This consumes at least two hours on each of three different occasions. I keep repeating to myself my own personal TOF motto: It’s only one night. I know I am going to bring too much food but I can’t help myself. The thought of anyone going hungry on this trip is intolerable. Eventually I settle on the following menu:

Saturday lunch
Ciabatta sandwiches with roasted red peppers, hummus, olive tapanade
PB&J for the kids
Baby-cut carrots and hummus
Grapes

Saturday dinner
Grilled tofu marinated in ginger-citrus sauce
Purple potatoes with onions and mushrooms in the Dutch oven
Zucchini
Hot dogs and Boca burgers for the kids
S’mores for dessert

Sunday breakfast
Whole-grain pancakes (made with soy yogurt and soy milk)
Veggie sausages
Pineapple chunks

Sunday lunch
PB&J with remaining fruit

We make the non-PB&J sandwiches, premix the dry pancake ingredients, marinate tofu, cut zucchini and scrub the potatoes ahead of time so as to minimize prep time at the campsite. Papa Bear and I pack everything but toiletries and the cooler in the car on Friday night. The air mattress stays behind due to space limitations and lack of confidence that there will be an electrical outlet to plug in the pump. (Ours doesn’t seem to have an adapter for manual or car lighter inflation.)

OUT THE DOOR

On Saturday morning the girls bound out of bed—even Sister Bear, our resident dormiloncito—we eat breakfast and finish packing the car. We actually manage to leave 10 minutes ahead of schedule. So far, so good. I remark to Papa Bear that this was the least stressed trip preparation we’ve ever had. Of course, this is also the shortest trip we’d ever prepared for and I had spent an insane amount of time preparing for it. But that’s why it was low-stress. We arrive at Stephen F. Austin State Park in Sealy, TX right around 9 am. We are met by the host rangers and instructed to go pick out a campsite and then explore the park a little before the program began at 9:45.

Here I start recalling past conversations between my own mother and father about the art of campsite selection.  I sense it is somehow critical to the success of our outing that we select the campsite with the perfect balance of privacy, proximity to bathrooms, etc. I tell myself to let it go. It’s only one night. We find a campsite located within 50 yards of the bathroom, which I decide is the most important criterion when traveling with two little ones, especially since I anticipate at least one middle-of-the-night emergency bathroom run. (I was right, but not at all in the way I expected.)

It is at this point that I realize we forgot to pack the charcoal. We elected not to bring firewood because of a statewide burn ban. Papa Bear goes on his first Quest for Fire but the camp store is closed. Oh well, we’ll worry about that later.

SETTING UP CAMP

This no-frills, six-person tent was provided by the program

We attend the program introduction in which we go over the schedule for the weekend and get instruction in setting up camp and using the air mattress. (Oh, how grateful I am to learn that TOF provides an air mattress for the adults.) Thanks to the helpful rangers camp set-up goes relatively smoothly. We erect the tent and start laying out the air mattress, sleeping pads (for the kids) and sleeping bags. At this point the girls are absolutely off their heads with excitement and have to be restrained from destroying the air mattress before it’s even inflated and poking a hole in the tent with the nice big stick they found laying around.  To settle the girls down I give them a little snack which gets them out of our hair so we can finish dragging stuff out of the car and into the campsite. This seamlessly melds into our prepared lunch.

LUNCH

I forgot to pack the jelly. Crap. And that peanut butter in the little individual packets that I had acquired months ago on deep discount and could never find a reason to use until I pulled them out of the pantry in a moment of frugal victory? Separated. The individual serving containers are too small to effectively stir the PB so I kind of stir and smear onto the bread simultaneously. My nice tablecloth with the Hawaiian style flowers hadn’t been out for more than an hour and it is already an oily, peanutty mess. On the bright side, my ciabatta sandwich is only moderately soggy from having been assembled the night before.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON FUN

The afternoon is occupied with official TOF activities, which include a geocaching tutorial and a guided nature walk. The group is divided into two and Papa Bear and I split the kids and each go off with one group. I drew the Baby Bear straw and we elect to start with geocaching. By geocaching, of course, I mean me finding the cache and then saying to my almost 3-year-old, “Look, there’s a treasure.”  Before we even get close to our first assigned cache, Baby Bear spies a small playground with a swing set and immediately loses interest in our treasure hunt. So I cheat and follow another family to the closest cache. Once Baby Bear sees the box with the animal cards in it she is converted and we proceed with the treasure hunt. By the time we retrieve all five caches, she is beginning to wilt a bit. Fortunately, Papa Bear informs me that the nature walk he had just gone on with Sister Bear goes right past our camp area so Baby Bear and I go along for that much of it and then get back to the tent before she starts to insist on being carried. I’m also beginning to feel the effects of the heat (it was in the mid-80′s F and pretty humid) and am desperately hoping Baby Bear will take a little snooze with me but, alas, she hasn’t napped in about a year and isn’t about to start now. Soon enough Papa Bear and Sister Bear return from their geocaching adventure and it’s time for the Dutch oven cooking mini-clinic.

DINNER

Sister Bear and I watch the rangers prepare hot coals with a chimney starter (want!) and then demonstrate the Dutch oven technique by assembling a chocolate cherry dump cake. Armed with tips for roasting potatoes in my oven, we head back to camp to begin preparing dinner. At this point, we need to get serious about fuel. The TOF staff helpfully provides us with coals for the Dutch

Ranger Rob demos the Dutch Oven

oven but the rest of the meal requires a bigger fire. Papa Bear goes off on his second Quest for Fire in search of firewood from the camp host. (Turns out the TOF had received a special exemption from the burn ban for the weekend and we are allowed to build small fires.) Meanwhile, I try to get on with the rest of the meal prep. I successfully light the coals and start pulling out the other foods. Sister Bear wants to help but after she sets the table, the only tasks left involve fire and sharp knives. No bueno. Both kids begin scrounging through the supply boxes, Baby Bear pulls out the bug spray and starts applying it to herself, Sister Bear finds the chocolate for the S’Mores. Chaos. I curse Papa Bear for abandoning me. In desperation I skewer a couple of hot dogs and roast them over the coals in the chimney starter just to get something on the table for the girls.  I burn them. Fortunately the girls don’t care what they’re eating as long as it comes with ketchup. They sit down to eat and I get back to work. (Note to self: SIMPLIFY the damn meals.)

Eventually Papa Bear returns without the firewood. He leaves again on his third Quest for Fire to beg for more coals from the rangers while I surreptitiously defy the no-firewood-gathering rule to supplement the coals. Eventually I get a small fire going under the grill and attempt to grill the tofu on skewers. The fire isn’t really hot enough. I default to Plan B and assemble the camp stove to fry up some Boca burgers. I punt on the zucchini, putting it back in the cooler. The girls, having gotten their fill of hot dogs, illicit chocolate and bug spray, are banished from the campsite wander off to play with children in adjacent campsites. Eventually, Papa Bear and I sit down to a dinner of pan-fried burgers, undercooked tofu and burnt Dutch oven potatoes and mushrooms. Whoever said that every meal tastes better while camping didn’t eat this meal.

DESSERT

What’s a campout without S’Mores? Here, I think, is a part of camping we can all enjoy. Our pitiful little fire had just enough residual heat to roast a few marshmallows and I dutifully assemble my daughters’ first-ever S’Mores. I present the treats to them with great excitement and watch as they sniff, lick and then reject them altogether. OK, not altogether.  Baby Bear tries to pull hers apart to get at the chocolate within but it has been corrupted by marshmallows.  Turns out my kids don’t really like marshmallows. Neither does Papa Bear. Who knew? We punt on the S’Mores and just eat the chocolate.

DISASTER

At this point, I have inhaled more smoke than I did during all of college and have a splitting headache. Time for another TOF program! Actually I’m glad to get away from the campsite and leave Papa Bear to clean up. A couple of park volunteers arrive dressed in clothes and equipped with gear from the frontier days. They put on a little show with flint and animal skins and explain what life was like back in the days of Stephen Austin. After that comes Sounds of the Night where the ranger explains what the kids can expect to hear in their tents during the night. It’s dark now and even though it’s a bit early, we get the kids ready for bed. Sister Bear is so tired she doesn’t even wait up for bedtime stories. Baby Bear plays around with the electric lantern for five minutes and then gives up the ghost herself. My headache is so bad now that Papa Bear goes off on a Quest for Aspirin. He returns with two packets of acetaminophen and an admonition from the rangers to drink more water.

About 30 minutes after taking the pills I realize two things: 1) this headache isn’t going anywhere; and 2) this isn’t just a headache. I try in vain to ignore my discomfort and sleep. Papa Bear does who-knows-what for who-knows-how-long and then makes his way into the tent. I should take this opportunity to go brush my teeth, take out my contacts and wash my filthy face but I’m too incapacitated. I start getting very flushed and decide to go drink more water. As I crouch next to the picnic table, I make peace with the fact that my teeth are not going to get brushed tonight. I take out my contact lenses, throw them on the ground next to the picnic table (bad camper!) and crawl back into the tent. Then I experience the stomach roll. I rush out of the tent, having the presence of mind to grab both a flashlight and my sandals, and lose my dinner about 10 feet from the tent entrance. As is usually the case I feel much better after puking my guts out. I stumble over to the water spigot and more or less clean myself up when Papa Bear comes out to see if I’m OK. I ask him to get my toiletry kit and stumble off to the bathroom to, yes, brush my teeth. (It was no longer optional.) The headache is manageable now and we drift off to sleep.

SLEEP? YEAH, RIGHT!

Long before we left our house, I had resigned myself to the probability that none of us would get much sleep that first night out under the stars. I was right. But, hey, it’s only one night. Surprisingly, there are no middle-of-the-night bathroom runs (yea, dehydration!) but the girls sleep fitfully, waking occasionally to ask for water (boo, dehydration!) or because they had slipped out of their sleeping bags. And Papa Bear snores. Just before dawn Sister Bear needs to go to the bathroom.  The moon is big and luminous and even in my sleep-deprived haze, I half acknowledge its beauty. When we get back to the tent I check my phone and am surprised to learn that it’s 6:40 am. We made it through the night.

BREAKFAST: SMELLS LIKE VICTORY

Cooking over a camp stove is a useful skill for any camper. I do not possess this skill. The first batch of pancakes is both burnt and undercooked. We don’t care.  The coffee is so strong it could corrode the cast-iron Dutch oven in 5 minutes flat. We don’t care. The sausage is divine fried up in a little oil rather than our usual microwave method at home. The pineapple is sweet and delicious. I love the smell of breakfast in the morning… Smells like, victory.

DENOUEMENT

Gorgeous spider

Sunday is uneventful. We break camp, attend a graduation celebration complete with certificate and packet of goodies from the program’s sponsors. The girls fight incessantly over the packet. We take it away. They cry. We are invited to stay in the park for the rest of the day but we’re all eager to get home. We get in the car and head out of the park. Our grand camping adventure is over.

To sum up, the girls were beastly, the dinner was awful, no one slept much and I spent the night feeling like total crap. Yet, Papa Bear and I passed the hour-long car ride home talking about all the things we’ll do differently next time. Next time I won’t try such elaborate meals. Next time we’ll pack the charcoal first and bring our own firewood so Papa Bear can watch the kids instead of questing for fire while I prep dinner. Next time we’ll bring a tarp for the front of the tent, a chimney starter of our own, the jelly.  Next time. For reasons I can’t articulate, we can’t wait to do it again. Yes, there will be a next time.

Welcome to Adventuring with Kids

Before we had kids, my husband and I enjoyed adventurous travel, including tent cabining in the U.S Virgin Islands, trekking in Nepal and braving tourist-targeting rebels in Cambodia. Then came careers and two beautiful kids. All too soon ten years had passed since we did anything off the beaten path. This blog marks our gentle reintroduction to vacations that involve neither fancy hotels nor negotiating with in-laws about sleeping arrangements. Because it’s been so long, I’m going to go ahead and call ourselves newbies. Join us as we embark on a new course of adventure travel with our two little girls. From baby steps like overnight tent camping to plans for more ambitious trips, I chronicle all the highs and lows of life outside the big box hotels.