Camping Trip from Hell

I do not like camping. I know this may alienate me from a large majority of the human race, but you know what, I don't care. I just don't see the point in spending an entire day packing up all my belongings from their comfortable and logical resting places within my house, driving up into the mountains to sit around in the dirt being cold and doing things that would be more fun and a heck of a lot easier if done at home, just to drive back and spend another entire day cleaning my belongings and putting them back in their rightful place. It just seems illogical to me. But apparently not to most people, and not to Wayne. He gave me the puppy-dog eyes, and for some unknown reason I decided to let that effect me and agreed to go camping over Friday night. Of course, I never promised to be happy about it. In fact, I was an unapologetic brat the entire time.

Look at that scowl! What a wench... Too bad Wayne didn't marry one of those hearty Utah gals and wound up with a prissy little city-girl like me. But the kids had fun, at first:

Here they are playing in the dirt with Tiger. I hate letting my kids get dirty (like, literal 'dirt' dirty. Food, markers, that's all good...), so this was torture for me.

UGH! Look at the dirt on his mouth! What sort of mother lets this happen?! Well, at least he's smiling, which is more than he was doing later. This little guy was the reason the trip ending up being "from hell". He just would not sleep. Seth's not usually a baby who needs complete silence to sleep, but apparently the noise of the great outdoors was just too much for him. Between cars driving by, the wind, the loud people camping near us singing Pink off-key and using the f-word with great abundance, the little dude just couldn't get his zzzz's. He was totally freaked out and just cried and cried and cried. Finally at 1am, Wayne threw in the towel and we drove the hour and a half home. It was miserable.

But at least I won't be forced to go camping again for a while...