City Boy, Loves Nature

My last wilderness experience was a traumatizing week in the Adirondacks with my sister Wendy who will probably never visit me again as long as I live within 500 miles of that mountain range. I came away from that trip with a new appreciation for such modern-day amenities as window screens, roofing shingles, pavement, water without blood-sucking leeches, and basically anything that isn't soggy and/or painful. So last weekend, I was going to ease myself back into nature by going car camping with Sasha.

We were going to meet a friend of mine and hang out in the Catskills for a couple of days. I threw stuff in the car and we drove up on Friday afternoon. The traffic wasn't too bad and the Bub slept almost the whole way, so vibes were good.

When we first pulled in to our site, I let Sasha out of the car and started unpacking. I thought he'd love to run around a little and he did: he ran right around to the driver's seat and sat there pressing all the buttons and turning all the knobs. For a minute I thought, how ridiculous, I want him to experience nature and he won't get out of the car. But then I realized that although he takes lots of trips in the car, he never actually gets to be in a different seat or even walk around the outside of the car. Traffic whizzing by usually precludes it. So I let him play, figuring I would entice him by doing something even more exciting: setting up the tent. As predicted, he ran over to help as soon as he saw me unfolding it onto the ground. The minute it was up he crawled in and rolled around in it, laughing and yelling "Mommy!" because how cool! he was inside! and I was outside! and we could see each other! and he could see other things, too!

After setting up camp, we went for a walk around the campground. More incredible things awaited: rocks, water spigots, other campers' stuff, hills to run UP, UP, UP and DOWN, DOWN, DOWN. Lately he never goes up or down a hill without announcing it all the way. The we went to a stream behind our site. It was beautiful in the fading light, and we played there for a long time, sticking our feet in and trying out different rocks for their seat potential. He started throwing rocks in. If you've seen a toddler try to throw something, you might guess that many rocks just ended up at his feet and never made it to the water. But that didn't matter-- what really mattered was the size of the rock he could pick up. He pried the biggest ones he could find, grunting dramatically to highlight the effort required. Soon no rocks at all were making it to the water. A couple of times I handed him a pebble, thinking it would be more fun to throw it successfully into the water. Obviously, however, I did not understand fun, because both times he politely handed it back to me, suggesting that "Mommy?" play with that silly little pebble.

We returned to our campsite to start a fire. I love a fire and I thought that he would, too, because it's just like the fire from Goodnight Moon that we're always pointing out. But he showed no interest. None whatsoever. OK, so I would enjoy it myself after he went to bed. So I put him to bed, trying to maintain his usual bedtime routine to help bring on sleep. We took a (sponge) bath, read some books, snuggled with a bottle, and then I told him it was time to sleep but that I would be in my chair nearby. I sat in front of the fire for a while, expecting some protests or whining, but none came. Naturally, I became suspicious and looked discreetly over my shoulder and couldn't see him. I got up, walked a little closer, still no Sasha. Then I walked right up to the tent to get a good view of the whole tent, and nope, no Sasha. That's because he had exited out the "back door" on the side of the tent opposite me. Sitting happily in the dirt in his pajamas and sleep sack, playing with dead leaves and sticks and probably some bugs.

I put him back to bed, this time tying the zipper pulls together so he couldn't escape. That worked for a couple of minutes until he worked himself free again. Then I tried sitting with him quietly in front of the fire. He wasn't having it. I tried going to bed with him, pretending to sleep. Until he realized that if I was sleeping, I couldn't stop him from opening the door and leaving. So I staked down one entrance and laid down in front of the other. So he had a good time vaulting himself over me, back and forth, about 30 or 40 times. Eventually I caved and decided I would put him in the Ergo and carry him around until he fell asleep. He put his head gently against my chest and I thought, "Oh this is going to be easier than I thought." But he was only resting between the campground play-by-play. He pointed to some campers at their picnic table and shouted, "Eat!" Pointing to a girl and her family, "Baby!" Passing the bathrooms, "Water!" Seeing a dog, "Bah! Bah!" More picnickers, "Eat! Eat!" "Moon!" "Truck!" "Eat!" I persevered and eventually he did fall asleep. I carefully lowered him in to the tent, but-- argh!-- woke him up and he was ready to play some more. I put him back in the Ergo and cleaned up camp, taking him with me to wash dishes, pack away the food, put out the fire, etc. Then I went to bed for real this time, hoping he would succumb to sleep. And late in the evening, he did-- after more vaulting and talking and singing and shouting at the neighbors he could hear clear as day.

As night wore on, I became increasingly cold despite the blankets. This was after I realized that the forecast I had checked 3 times was the coastal Brooklyn forecast, not the much colder mountain forecast. Oops. Now I had to make a decision. There was a warm and fuzzy sweatshirt in the car. It was 3 am. I could continue to freeze my butt off and not really sleep all night, or I could risk waking up the Bub and not sleep for the rest of the night anyway. I chose to risk it. I got out of the tent and the fly (2 zippers!) and into the car. Got the sweatshirt, closed the trunk, and back to the tent and still he slept away. So back into the tent, zipped up the fly, got my shoes off, and "Mommy!" it's time to play and shout. My strategy was to ignore him as much as possible but also prevent him from waking up the rest of the campers. More vaulting. At least I was warm. After 30 minutes or so, he finally dozed off again. With most of his 27 pounds on my arm. So we were both up for the day before dawn, probably because I dared to adjust my aching shoulder.

Needless to say, I abandoned the adventure after a lap full of precious coffee and 2 toddler meltdowns before breakfast. And though the night sucked, I am happy to report that my only real complaint is that Sasha was having too much fun.