A few weekends ago, my husband, Mark, and I decided to take our two kids, Lily and Jake, on our very first camping trip. To be honest, I never imagined I would venture into the wilderness, primarily due to my fear of aliens and, to a slightly lesser degree, bears. Additionally, the thought of getting dirty, sleeping on the ground, and navigating to a communal restroom in total darkness at 2 a.m. did not appeal to me.
But, you know, the things we do for our children.
Since it was fall, I figured the night would be cool—even in our sunny Florida. I convinced myself that zipping up the tent would keep out any extraterrestrial visitors, as I imagined they’d be baffled by something as simple as a zipper. We packed air mattresses, powerful flashlights for those late-night trips, and even brought our little dog, Bella, who could serve as a distraction should aliens or bears decide to pay us a visit.
We chose a picturesque campground by the river and brought along two brand-new fishing poles, our excitement high with hopes of reeling in an impressive catch—never mind that Mark’s fishing expertise was limited to watching YouTube tutorials. If he could manage brakes, surely fishing couldn’t be any harder, right?
Upon arriving, we surprisingly managed to set up the tent with—believe it or not—barely any disagreements. It was oddly enjoyable. Then I turned around and saw this:
Lily was completely covered in dirt. I panicked. “What are you doing? Look at your face! You’re absolutely filthy! How did you get that dirty so fast?” In my moment of shock, I inadvertently hurt her feelings, revealing that I had somehow avoided dirt for nearly two decades.
To make it right, I grabbed my camera and began snapping photos, adopting an overly cheerful tone to lift her spirits. Thankfully, she smiled, and I apologized. This moment of reflection helped me realize that if I couldn’t embrace the messiness, no one would enjoy themselves, because camping is inherently about getting dirty. In fact, if you’re not muddy, you’re probably not doing it right.
Mark busied himself preparing fishing lures while the kids indulged in sugary snacks like Sprite and Doritos—definitely not allowed at home. We fished, encountered a pufferfish that was quite the challenge to unhook, and even attempted cartwheels on the riverbank. As the day went on, we became dirtier and dirtier.
Later, when it was time to make s’mores, we realized we had forgotten to pack our skewers. After a brief argument over who was to blame, our son suggested we simply use sticks instead, highlighting our foolishness with his innocent perspective. This led to laughter as we searched for suitable sticks. I found myself contemplating how camping really mirrors life: If you can’t accept the mess, you’re missing out on the fun.
The s’mores turned out delicious, and we spent the night playing card games like Go Fish and War. Eventually, we pushed our air mattresses together and snuggled up as a messy little family. Despite the heat and having to leave the tent flaps open, we were fortunate to avoid any alien encounters or bear attacks.
In the end, our first camping trip was a triumph. We had so much fun that we’ve already planned another adventure for December. Bring on the dirt!
If you’re intrigued by stories like this, or if you’re interested in home insemination options, check out this helpful resource for more information. Also, for an excellent at-home insemination kit, visit Make A Mom to explore their offerings. For any inquiries, feel free to reach out through our contact page.
Summary
In this article, Dr. Emily Collins recounts her family’s first camping experience, highlighting the challenges and joys of getting messy in nature. Through humorous anecdotes, she reflects on the importance of embracing life’s messiness and the fun that comes from stepping outside one’s comfort zone. The camping trip ends successfully, and the family looks forward to more adventures together.