July 26, 2004

  • Rain on the Tent


    (written last Thursday)


    My socks, which I'm wearing for the second day in a row (without washing) are wet.  My head is woozy with that feeling you get having slept fitfully and uncomfortably and just dying for the moment when you can sink (aaaahhhh, bliss!), washed and dry, into your own bed.


    Today I spent my lunch hour shlepping a massive amount of wet tenting gear out of a sodden forest behind my kids' school.  Fortunately the mosquitoes were dampened by the intermittent downpour.  I'd also  foreseen (by rolling the pant-legs) the fact that the creek was overruning the wooden walkway ankle-deep, and a huge heron broke from the waterside just as I sweated past, giving me a gasping moment of delight watching its prehistoric form clear the treetops through the mist.


    And last night my daughter was over-the-moon delighted.  I realized what a sad lack of a mother she had when I explained that we would probably have s'mores on her parent-kid camp-out, and she said:  "What're those?"  What?  She's almost seven, and I've never fed her a s'more??  Dreadful.  But she had one last night, and lemme tell you.  She liked them.


    Despite all the effort I pour into Ms. 6's school as a voluteer administrator, I don't spend much time in the classroom.  So it was somewhat revelatory watching her last night, darting around the darkness, the smallest of the baker's-dozen-worth-of kids, and one of only two females.  With the rest of them, she gathered wood, played tag, vied for the best marshmallow-roasting spot, and generally held her own amid a raucous gaggle of children widely varying ages, sizes and interests.  Even though her habitual shuteye's at 9 pm, at 11:15 she was vociferously objecting to my bedding her down:  "But MOM.  Ryan's still out there!  Ryan's only a year older!  I don't want to sleep until Ryan does!  Mom, I'm still really...........zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."  Log-tired, she was out.


    Myself, I tossed and turned on the stony ground and counted the number of uproarious beedy-eyed bugs creaking and shrieking through the night, along with owls and some weird haunting cry I couldn't identify and might have been scared of, had this not been southern Ohio where the scariest thing on a dark summer night is the rare snake in the grass.  Ms. 6 breathed softly while I sighed and muttered.


    Then at 3 am it started to rain.  The bugs, silenced, scuttled away, and the drip-drip steadied into a gentle downpour. 


    Finally, curled against my bony offspring's sturdy backbone, I slept.  Not enough -- but peacefully, dry, under the sound of rain.

Comments (13)

  • I don't have to imagine how you looked as you watched her--I've seen the love and pride in your eyes as you watch your kids play, and it's a beautiful thing.  Who cares about s'mores when you've got a mom like that, I say.

  • Oh...Daff hit the proverbial nail up there. Who cares about s'mores, indeed.

    And this: there is nothing which compares to sleeping dry under the sound of rain.
    ,
    DiDi

  • everything is made worthwhile once you get into that bed you've been dreaming about for days.

  • Camping always makes me very happy for bathtubs and warm cozy beds!!   I enjoy camping, but I sure enjoy coming back home afterwards!!  (You only let her have ONE s'more??)

  • Mmm. S'mores.  Next time, we're joining ya.  ((wink!))

  • I always did like the sound of rain on the tent.  Not sure it would be enough, now, to compensate for hauling wet gear through a sodden forest, but when I was ten or so it probably would have been.

  • The last paragraph brought tears to my eyes.

    What a great experience for both of you.

  • I just adore your word pictures.  I could read them over and over again.  And do.

  • Whadda Mom you are!   I bet you're sleeping very soundly right about now.  Sounds like you both had fun.

  • I've never given MY kids a s'more, and they're a LOT older than six.  And my daughter has never been near a tent (that didn't include the word 'sale' after it, that is)...  So you are doing wonderfully, in my estimation.

  • wonderful. s'mores, tent, rain and snores . I almost jumped at the heron myself. Terrific story. Great memory for your daughter.

  • Now I'm hungry for s'mores.  :)

  • I care about s'mores!!!  Heck, I  make them at home in the toaster oven when I'm desperate. 

    But, just so ya know - not feeding your kid a s'more until age 6 does NOT make you a bad parent.

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