(2011) In which we go camping, Part I
I am not a camper. I've never really been camping, nor have I ever seen a need to. That's not to say I thought camping was dumb, it just never sounded fun--especially considering that in the last 6 years I've spent a good amount of time either pregnant or nursing--neither of which sounded particularly awesome whilst in the wild. Seth, however, loves camping and has gone camping dozens of times over the years while serving in the boy scouts or the YM of our various wards. Add Chanel into the picture, whose family are like professional campers, and the pressure has been on for me to come to the dark side. Which is exactly what I did last week.
After getting our pictures taken at the Indiana Dunes earlier this summer we determined that the campgrounds there would be the perfect place to camp. The long-awaited weekend arrived, but before we could leave that Friday afternoon we had to take care of a little something. Something we had been dreading, but were hopeful would bring an end to a horrible situation: Mediation for our lawsuit regarding the business we owned. It was hours and hours and hours of back and forth with someone who is complete and total scum. It was emotionally draining and infuriating and ended with no resolution in sight. As we were driving home to pack up and leave, Chanel told us that Eloise had hurt her arm, and she thought it might be serious. So we got home and checked her out. She didn't seem to be in a ton of pain, but considering she had been to the ER a few weeks prior with an injury to the same arm (which turned out to be a dislocated elbow, also known as nursemaids elbow) we knew you can never really tell with kids. So I took her to the emergency room thinking I was totally overreacting...but sure enough, the x-ray showed it was fractured. She was a total champ through all of that, with not a single tear shed. That is until they went to wrap her arm up in a splint, at which point Eloise had a full-blown pyscho-billy freak out. I mean kicking and screaming and flailing and crying like I've NEVER seen her do. It wasn't like they were hurting her. She just didn't WANT a splint. Plain and simple. She squirmed her way out of the first cast and before they tried to wrangle her into another one I asked them to give us a few minutes alone so I could talk some sense into the girl using my persuasive powers. Five minutes later (following threats of no camping if she didn't cooperate) she had a new cast on, and we were on our way home to finally go camping.
This picture is just as the freak-out started. Of course when I realized what was happening, I stopped taking pictures and started trying to calm that girl down.
By the time we left for camping our plan for dinner by the campfire was replaced with McDonalds at the overpass and we finally arrived at the campsite it was dark and had started raining. Those are two conditions under which I was not looking forward to starting my first real camping trip....