Bug Bites, Barettes and Bears - Oh My!

Before I had children of my own, I always hoped for a boy as my first born. I realize I had nothing to do with that outcome and I do accept that God gave me THREE boys and ZERO girls for a reason.

Some days it’s not hard to see why. I mean, I don’t wear dresses ‘just because’ – I reserve those occasions for weddings and funerals. I think that others look stunning in them but I just feel weird in them and can't seem to pull off the intended look so I opt for the jeans. Another reason I’m pretty sure I didn’t have a girl is that I don’t have patience for French braids and barrettes. I would probably give it a shot one time and then force the kid to either wear a Cardinals baseball hat or get in line for a buzz cut with the boys, thus scarring her sweet little self forever.

So, now that you’ve read those confessions of where I lack some femininity {yes, it’s a word – I checked}, one might assume I am a total tomboy. Most days, I might agree with that. However, I’m pretty sure the definition of a tomboy means that they love all things outdoors. That's not so much the truth with this chic. Don’t get me wrong - I enjoy the outdoors but if I'm going to spend more than a few minutes outside, I do have a few {small} requirements. I need to be in the shade, it needs to be no hotter than 75 degrees but not so cool that I can see my breath. I don't do port-a-potties, all insects need to stay at least 50 feet from my flesh and there shall never be a substitute for toilet paper. Period.

Here's another confirmation that I'm not falling under any tomboy stereotype. We're going camping this weekend. I should be pumped up.

Except I'm not.



But I'm going and, no matter what, I am going to put my biggest smile on and make memories with my men. Maybe good ones, maybe not so good ones but memories nonetheless. I will take my camera and I do fully intend to snap some pictures for the scrapbook. And who knows? Maybe one day my boys will see the sacrifices I made for their happiness and want to reciprocate the love by sending me for an indoor spa day. Okay, maybe not. But who knows? Maybe I'll end up enjoying the experience.


Unless something crazy happens.



As comical as that is, it's really got me freaked out. Did I mention that we're sleeping in a tent on the ground of a state park? I'm not interested in becoming Cujo Bear's 2am snack. I can't express my fears in front of my children because my self-induced panic attack might permanently traumatize them but it's a valid concern. Are you laughing at me? Is the city girl in me shining brightly right now?

I will say one thing with absolute certainty. I'm not a fast runner. In fact, any time I do pick up the pace {usually chasing d3 when he's running with a sharp object or headed to the toilet with my iPhone}, I hear giggles from the peanut gallery. That's how infrequent it is and how awkward it looks. However, if I see a bear, you better believe I'm grabbing one kid in each arm and hightailing it to the nearest shotgun-armed park ranger. And you know what they say about running from bears - you don't have to be the fastest, you just have to be faster than the slowest person. GOT IT.

Oh, I hope someone brings coffee.