We just got back from a wonderful vacation that ended far too soon! Friday we packed up the camper and headed for James H. Floyd State Park. We didn't end up pulling out of the driveway until 5pm! This due to the wonderful fact that there is no housewife around here, and laundry and housework is accomplished catch as catch can. So it was for me to clean house, clean laundry, purchase and organize food stuffs,and pack the camper. Finally we were all in the Suburban and going out the driveway. Oops. With one quick run back in to grab the camera we were off. Grandpa came along for the ride, since he is still with us working away on the house. (He's been working on the shower for about 2 weeks now. We are loving having a family of 9 use one bathtub! Sigh. We line up at the door like we are in dorms. But we are grateful that dad is here doing all this work!)
Back to our camping trip. We made it to the state park before 6:30! We had plenty of time to set up the camper, and I made chili in my footed dutch oven over hot coals. I'm not sure that the chili was that great, but we were all starving- hunger is the best seasoning. The kids were off in no time looking for little creatures. They hit the jack pot over by the bath house, and had 3 little toads in no time. They couldn't figure out why I wasn't going to immediately empty jars and crocks for them to use as habitats for their toads! When it was very dark, I got out the icecream buckets (the kind that 5qts of icecream come in) filled with toiletry items- one bucket for the boys, one bucket for the girls- and we were off to the bathhouse to brush teeth and get ready for bed.
Lucky for the kids the camp host was a very large man on disability who's special talent was not cleaning the bath house. Spider webs and insects of all varieties abounded everywhere. There was an especially large specimen of millipede-quite spectacular really-and it wandered up and down the tile floor in the bathroom entries. Sadly, two days into the trip some kid could not refrain and smashed the thing. It was rather tragic, especially because it's carcas attracted every ant within a block, and the ant highway system ran right through the center of the bathhouse entrance.
How could we expect the children to lay down and go to sleep after all the excitement of toads and millipedes. We had to use the dinette sleeper since Grandpa was along, and it proved to be a spacious enough bed for three little boys. It was on the hot side, but I could not bear the thought of closing up the camper and turning on the air. Then we would miss all the forest noises in the night. Some owls sat not far off singing the most romantic "whoo". Within 10 minutes however, they seemed to have become deranged and began making noises that were more alarming than romantic. Dad was available for owl consultation and it turns out they are rather territorial fellows. Who would have thought, or shall I say "whoo" would have thought.
Sadly, we saw no bats, and I didn't startle any mice walking back to camp from the bath house. That is my favorite camp memory thus far. We were camping in Rabun county- Vivian was all of three weeks old-and when I walked back to the tent, a little mouse was busily stuffing something in it's wee mouth, and my foot gave it a sudden nudge. We were both totally startled. Off it scurried, and I paused a moment to reflect with a bright moon overhead, and a cool breeze coming off the lake and stirring the huge spreading branches of an oak tree above me. The ground was covered in acorns. I guess the mouse was collecting acorns.
Vivian's playpen set up nicely in front of the "kitchen"- and we could get around it all right. The next morning the boys were up in no time, clamoring for their crocs and racing out the door to meet all the other campers. And so began our life as the parents of those 6 adorable children. The Hodges kids were famous in hours. People we met for the first time three days later, declared that our children were the most charming, gracious, well mannered humans they had ever seen. Jon and I wondered who's kids we had been caring for all weekend because it was most certainly not the 6 pack described. Charles distinguished himself by becoming acquainted with an old southern gentleman who occupied the very first campsite. His confederate flag flew high, and one got the impression that a large picture of Stonewall Jackson or Robert E. Lee surely graced the camper wall. Charles asked him if he was a presbyterian. This tickled the man totally, and he affirmed that he was indeed a Presbyterian, and what was Charles? Charles proudly claimed the same and cemented the relationship for all time.
Oliver went from extreme joy to utter and total desolation at a dizzying rate. He would catch a toad-Oh, what joy! The squeals, the elation-and then the toad would suddenly scramble and hop to freedom- Oh, what sorrow. The tears flowed like the Mississippi. It was annoying. I told him to go to some far corner of the forest and really weep it all right out of his system. The nice thing about camping, Oliver realized, was that a compassionate person lay within easy reach, and off he would go to find some retired old timer who could share in his sorrow appropriately.
When a camp ground is over run with children, there are things a person must acclimate to. Such as, when the table is set, the food is hot, and the children assembled, and at this moment you imagine that you will eat in harmony with your offspring and have a pleasant chat about the happenings of the day, suddenly out of no where a child on his scooter emerges. He calmly settles in at an unclaimed corner, helmet slightly askew on his head, and watches the family eat. This can be a little unsettling, but the worst is yet to come. He grows increasingly comfortable and begins to make asinine comments and relate silly stories about his day. This is all right with your own children because you can mock them into silence. Or you have the general meal time rule- you can only speak of things that are of "general interest"-meaning anything that mom and dad are interested in discussing. But you hesitate to deliver this same treatment to the neighbor's kid. You look at the child and you wonder what to do, when there emerges another child, who not only makes asinine comments, but has a strange lisp and ridiculous manner of talking like a baby though he may be in the fourth grade. Again, with your own child you tell him to stop talking until he can deepen his voice and enunciate, but you hesitate to say this to the neighbor's kid. You reflect on this state of affairs as you eat a tasty morsel of pot roast. Then you catch the eye of your husband and you start to laugh at the whole thing, just as another kid turns up. But of course, it is the benign child who has a sibling 8 years older, and spends the majority of her day playing Game Boy or staring out into oblivion in a state of silence. You begin to feel very friendly toward this child.
The first day at camp I noticed that the Suburban door always stood open. I found this odd, and I would walk over and close it, not looking in. Before a few minutes had gone by, the door was open again. It was Caroline, holed up with her Game Boy. I ordered her out of the car. She breathed that annoyed breath that seriously irritates me, but I decided to go with ignoring her. After awhile I thought she must have run off with her brothers. But when I called everyone for lunch, she emerged from the camper, Game Boy in hand. By that evening she discovered a 9 year old girl, also in 4th grade. Her parents proved themselves sympathetic to all Caroline's ongoing hysterics and such whenever she fell or tripped, or was annoyed. We didn't see a whole lot of Caroline after that. She would resurface at meals covered in bandaids looking for a fresh audience to recount her tales of woe. We sniffed, rolled our eyes, and went back to eating.
Gabriel actually did quite well. I think he hugely prefers the camping experience when dad is close by and he has the safe haven of camper rather than tent. He stayed close by playing in basins of water, and looking over the fresh "catches" of his siblings.
Vivian decided that she did not need any of us, and that we needed to get out of her way so she could explore. When we arrived at camp, I realized to my horror that I had forgotten her shoes. The camp site was covered in small pebbles, and I set her down thinking that would keep her contained. I thought wrong. She tramped forward with a determination that would make Paul Bunyan proud. Off she went right down the road, and oh, the indignation and fury that descended upon anyone who dare to pick her up and bring her to safety. Jon followed to see where she would go, in her bare feet that must have burned on the hot black top. She walked an immense distance. A steep hill approached, and Jon attempted to take her hand. She withdrew it outraged, and progressed alone, tottering occasionally. Finally she reached the top, and the proud and almost disdainful look of accomplishment that covered her wee features was rather impressive. When I bathed her little body later, every toe pad was skinned. She made no complaint when I washed her feet, and the toe pads scabbed over by the next morning. Jon and I drove straight over to Walmart the next morning where Vivian chose a pair of Winnie the Pooh tennis shoes. I attempted to try on a different style, but she rebelled. She hugged the shoes all the way back to camp. I put them on her feet, and she then marched off, only instead of looking out, she looked down at her little shoes. She was exceedingly pleased with the shoes. Besides being happy when she was marching down the road in determination, she loved being in the camper, with the fan adjusted right on her, eating Cheezits.
Jonathan became quite a story teller over the course of the trip. I had brought along a hatchet, and Grandpa went into the forest and brought in dead branches and small trees to cut up for fire wood. Jonathan threw himself into the job eager for a chance to demonstrate his prowess with the hatchet. Within 10, maybe 15 minutes, he would weary of the task and jump at a neigbor's offer for toad hunting or football. Grandpa and Jon would be left with gathering and chopping. That night round the campfire we would hear Jonathan recount how he felled vast quantities of forest, hunted down a massive raccoon which he had quite within his clutches but allowed to escape out of the goodness of his heart. He would find the "biggest" spider ever and holler for someone to come quick with the camera. We quit coming after the first time. He found black widows and tarantulas- we pointed out that tarantulas are not indigenous to Georgia. His hands were covered in blisters (if you carefully adjusted his hand in the perfect light, you could actually make out a very faint slightly red spot). He was the pioneer above all pioneers. He could start a bonfire of massive proportions with simply two sticks rubbed together at an awesome rate. Had we stayed another couple days, I do believe the child would have claimed to have been the mentor of Johnny Appleseed.
Jon and I simply enjoyed existing without thinking about our respective jobs. I love cooking over hot coals in my cast iron footed dutch oven, and washing dishes in basins set up on a bench. I also loved giving Vivian and Gabriel baths in the wash basins. Jon took the kids rowing with Grandpa. It proved to be more romantic in thought than execution as it took a tremendous amount of strength to move the rectangular boat through the water. I went along for one boat ride, and decided after a few minutes at the oars that we should just lay back, enjoy the sky and let the boat go where ever it willed.
Grandpa seemed to enjoy everything, though he always followed up exclamations of joy with, "these precious moments are passing all too quickly, and will never be enjoyed again."
Monday late afternoon we returned home and immediately cleaned out the camper, washed all the laundry, and restocked and reloaded the camper for our next trip out. I can hardly wait!
