When I finally did decide to venture out on our own family camping trip, thoughts of the obstacles of camping as a single mom flooded my head. If one of us had to go to the bathroom, we all had to go (thank goodness I had boys!) And what about showering? I would have to take them with me.
The night before we are preparing to leave, my youngest comes home from his dad’s with a case of poison ivy. A call to the doctor confirms poison ivy, and the nurse assures me it is fine to still go. The next morning he has more patches, but he is bright-eyed and ready for adventure.
We arrived at the campsite early to get everything set up. With plenty of time, we checked out the beach and took showers. We built a fire, and I started to relax.
An older woman comes and tells us what a great job we are doing and how it reminds her of when she would camp with her son out under the stars in California as a single mom. This is a God thing – a sign of His encouragement and goodness. I was going to need it!
We sit down to roast our traditional first night of camping dinner – hot dogs – and my youngest is not hungry. Unusual. He wants to go to bed. Highly unusual. He feels warm. From my first-aid kit, I take out the thermometer. His fever is 101.
It is getting toward dusk. Between the poison ivy rash and the fever, I decide we need to go get this checked out. I race to the nearest small town. We get to the hospital, and we are directed to a clinic. We are the last patient they take that night, and only because we are camping.
After the doctor checks my son out, she reassures me that the rash and fever are unrelated and gives him Motrin. We got back to the campsite. The fire is dying down and so is my adrenaline.
We crawl in the tent, climb in our sleeping bags, and are asleep in minutes, but I am awakened by something brushing against the side of the tent. Just a raccoon, I assure myself. We have many raccoon stories from camping as a child. Exhausted, I go back to sleep.
The next morning, I rise early and make coffee as the boys continue to sleep. The boys wake up, and my son looks better. We spent the day, much like I remember as a child, – hiking, lunch, swimming, showers, playing catch, supper, and a campfire. That night, I again heard the brushing sound on the outside of the tent near my head. I calm my over-imaginative mind and go back to sleep.
After hiking the next day, I went to grab something from the tent. I see a hole in the tarp and under the tarp, a hole in the floor of the tent. My first thought is, what a cheap tent! I look back in the hole and see what I think are baby animals curled up in a hole in the ground. I consider taking the tent down, packing up, and heading home.
Instead, at the insistence of my sons, we go get the ranger. He removes the babies into a box and duct tapes our tent floor. (Duct tape is now on my list of essentials to bring camping.)
Will the mom come back? The ranger says he does not think so. That night I lined the whole side of our tent with heavy objects, afraid the mom may try to return even though the ranger says she will not. He stops by the next morning to check on us and tells us it was actually a cottontail rabbit’s babies. I thought you said the mom would not return. He chuckled and said, well, he had hoped not.
So as it turns out, the grassy spot I put the tent in must have had a nest burrowed in the ground, and the mom came back at night trying to save the babies. My heart aches at my mistake, but I also feel a kindred spirit with the mother rabbit. The same fierce spirit is instilled in me when it comes to doing the best for my boys.
One may think we never ventured on a solo camping trip again. However, I felt empowered; even with all the obstacles, we did it. We saw indigo bunting birds, grasshoppers camouflaged to look like grass, and collected hickory nuts. We played football at the lake. We roasted marshmallows and read by the fire. We went to a nature show and learned about snakes in Wisconsin. On our last walk around the campsite, my sons started to pick out campsites they would like for next year. Hooked!
The duct tape lasted for years, by the way, and we continued doing yearly camping trips the boys consider some of their best memories. My youngest became a true nature lover and is currently in college earning an urban forestry degree.
