camping the two

More about camping ... (In fact, a camping trip we took exactly 3 years ago! Let's hope we're not out there, experiencing too much of this, while you're in here, all warm and cosy, reading about it.)

April 27, 2009

The thing about camping is ... you never know what you're going to get.

A good camp is a thing of wondrous beauty and infinite soul-delight. A bad camp is, well, pretty shitty.
This was a bad camp. And extremely shitty.
Herewith a seasoned camper's guide to seasonal camping:

Rule 1: Be Game.
Big storms predicted? Bah. Potential very cold conditions? Bah. Arriving after dark and setting up camp with a small child? Whatever.
What's the thing about camping? Yup, you never know what you're going to get. But if you don't leave the house, you'll never find out.

Turns out - in this case - that what we got was a dark dank field, miles from anywhere, with no proper signage, no hot water (which we were promised), no running water (except from the sky - in buckets), and a veritable CARPET of cow shit. Which the puppy thought was delicious.

The next morning. Still raining. We'd picked up a lot of poo. 

Rule 2: Be Prepared.
And if not, be innovative.

Such as, when feeding your small child a picnic supper on the front seat of the Jeep in the dark and pissing rain, and on discovering that you have no spoon and that to get one would involve getting wet and covered in cow shit and maybe the dissolution of your marriage, make a plan by locating said child's toy box in the back of said Jeep and feeding her yoghurt off a small plastic spade.

Rule 3: Stay Upbeat.
I mean, it's not like you're going to turn around and drive home right? Not after packing all afternoon and driving for hours and getting all excited and finding someone to feed the cats. And bah-humbugging in the face of everyone's dire predictions that you'd be rained out ... cough ...


Nah, you push through the rough patch and the next thing you know the tent is pitched, the child is peacefully asleep, it's stopped raining, someone's gotten a bonfire going and you're holding a glass of wine. And right then you're really happy to be there.
Of course the puppy's still eating cow shit but hey ...

Rule 4: See the Beauty.

Protea Aurea - isn't she utterly beautiful?

'Cos regardless of what kind of camping experience you're having, you're outdoors see, and ergo there'll always be something beautiful.

Rule 5: Know when to Quit.
And pack up the kid, the dog, the wet and shit-bespattered tent, and make haste to a friend's beach-house for the rest of of the weekend.

camping the one

We're off camping in the Cederberg this week and next, our consolation prize for not making it to AfrikaBurn this year.
Pretty good consolation prize if you ask me.


We'll be at Beaverlac for 3 nights with friends and then heading further north to Enjo Nature Farm - a farm we've heard much about but not stayed at before.
As I've said before, we're happy campers, so I thought I'd re-post some bits and pieces I've written about camping over the years, and why we love it so much.

January 20, 2009

We spent the weekend in a teepee, at this wonderfully hippie-hey-wow-like-awesome-man retreat, and I have to say there really is something quite magical about these big, circular tents. I did indulge my inner Sioux a little...

I also gave a lot of thought to camping - as a concept - as someone recently told me that they didn't really get the attraction. I think it's one of those things you're either into or you're not. I think this also depends largely on whether you grew up camping.

I could say that you need to be into nature, have a fairly relaxed attitude towards cleanliness, be able to do without home comforts or access to technology, and have a very relaxed attitude towards bugs - but many people have all of these and still aren't fans. It's really not a very easily definable thing.

All I know however, is that I LOVE camping, am never happier than when cooking on a fire (as long as I've got gas to boil a kettle for tea), sleeping in a tent (as long as I've got a comfy mattress and warm enough bedding), waking to the fresh outdoor morning air (as long as the sun isn't directly in my eyes) and getting very dirty feet (as long as there's somewhere to swim). So you see, I'm not as dye-hard (pun intended, sorry) as some campers out there, but I do love to camp, and here's why.....

... there's nothing as soul-satisfying for me as spending an evening cooking and laughing around a big open fire,  slowly rotating your body to evenly toast all your exposed bits, eating crispy braai-ed lamb chops, bread baked in the ashes, a roasted mielie or jacket potato, being among the last to linger as one by one your fellow campers totter off to bed, finally saying your good-nights yourself and padding off through the darkness, following the beam of your torch, a bietjie gewyn, brushing your teeth from an ice-cold mug of water on the side of a bubbling stream, watching the moon hang low and heavy in the sky, quietly opening the flap to your tent and pausing to listen for the snuffly breath of your child asleep inside, then quietly undressing and stepping off the soft grass and into your chilly bedding, snuggling in until it slowly warms, drifting off to the sounds of crickets, the wind in the branches above you, or the deep ponderous silence of a deep, dark night...

.... waking in the early dawn to the back and forth earnest-sounding conversation of two owls in the trees nearby, getting up to make sure your kiddie is still covered up, pulling your own blankets up higher against the dawn chill...

.... waking later to the far-off sounds of children laughing, the clink of coffee cups, the wafts of wood-smoke as the rest of camp awakes, washing your face in cold mountain water, having the best tasting cup of coffee you'll ever have - the one which is brewed and drunk outside - having a leisurely breakfast of the kinds of things you'd probably never eat for breakfast at home, and then finding a dam or river to soak the graininess of the night away, and take deep breaths of pure, untainted, uncomplicated, country air...

 

 You (well I) gotta love it.

the reading bug

My Mum hooked me up with The Reading Bug by Paul Jennings and I'm so grateful to have read it. A blurb on the front says: 'A must for all parents who've ever worried about their children's reading', but I don't think you have to be a worrier to warrant reading it.

Friday's been trying to read since she could first hold a book - no really - and The Reading Bug's been such a great resource for this parent who hadn't the first clue how to gently guide her evident interest onto a constructive path to actual reading.

Just as a baby who is never spoken to will not learn to speak, so a child who is never read to will not show much interest in reading. No surprise that Paul Jennings places a lot of emphasis on the importance of reading to our children. But he does so while acknowledging how busy modern parents are, how people these days struggle to find or make time to read themselves, let alone read to their children.
He does so by saying this, one of the most beautiful things I've ever read about reading, or indeed about parenting itself:

Reading aloud to your children gives them an incredibly strong message. Without words you are saying, 'I am not washing the car or reading the paper or watching the news. I am sitting here with you, reading a story about a little dog whose family don't recognise him when he gets dirty. I am enjoying sitting in bed with you, sharing the fun, the fears and the fellowship of this magic moment. You are the centre of my world.'

And when you look down at the sparkling eyes you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are the centre of theirs.

This act of love forms an association between the child and books. The word book brings pleasure. The feel, look and smell of books is forever linked to feelings of warmth, security and love. You have started a lifelong love affair between a child and reading.

I was reminded of this passage recently.

And realised it need not just refer to a parent reading to a child, but also to a sister 'reading' to her little sister, generating all those associated feelings of warmth, security and love, and making their unobserved mama's eyes sparkle at the sight.

burn out

Until a few weeks ago we were seriously planning on going to AfrikaBurn this year. We've not been before, but not for lack of wanting to.
I even tried to persuade Husband to go the year I was heavily pregnant with Friday, reckoning it would be the Last Time we would ever do anything as wild and free.

5 years later we've found ourselves up for a bit of wild and free again, albeit this time with two kidlets in tow. Our girls are great campers, and have proven many times to be quite happy and secure outside of the comfort zone of home.
We're well kitted-out too, with a 4x4 trailer with roof tent and bells and whistles etc, camping fridge, solar shower - all the pouncy trappings of the middle-class South African outdoor enthusiast.

AfrikaBurn is not for sissies. 5 days in the driest part of South Africa, the Tankwa Karoo, requiring total self-sufficiency: water, food, medical supplies etc. The 10 page Survival Guide warns of dust storms, earth too hard for the mere mortal tent peg, rules regarding taking away absolutely every little thing that you bring in with you (including organic matter), how to share the space with 4000+ other 'Burners', what to do if your camp catches fire (take your valuables and run), the dangers of dehydration.
Plus the expectation that all attendees contribute something to the fun and games.

We were keen!

But then March happened. Two family birthdays, two weekends away, a wedding, a funeral, school holidays and just a whole bunch of logistical and emotional stuff.

And ... while our enthusiasm for the event remained intact ... the mind was willing ... but the flesh started feeling weaker and weaker ...

Eventually we shook ourselves and got busy on the To Do list. And one by one stuff got complicated. Our seldom-used 50litre water tank exploded (literally), the 'simple' repair to the trailer's spare wheel carrier got technical. Our house-sitter fell through. And with each set-back our enthusiasm waned ...

So, we're not going this year. We're bummed about it, but still feel we've done the right thing. And seeing as we'd already planned the leave, we'll be off camping in the Cederberg for a week instead - somewhere with shade, running water, swimming water and much less dust.
It may not be as exciting or as stimulating as the Burn, but I think we'll be quite happy with some calm this time.

We will, however, be building a small sculpture to burn on our last evening. This was the part of the whole event which really captured Friday's imagination, and while she may forgive us for the change of venue - she's going to be mad if she doesn't get to blow some stuff up!

cuteness 101

Not to stand in too stark a contrast to her sister's appalling behaviour on the weekend ... but my god is my 2 year old Sunday just killing me with the cute.

Girl's Gone Child said today that:

'One of the greatest gifts of parenthood is the act of routinely falling harder and even more in love with one's children.'

She also said:

'If this comes off as saccharine and totally annoying, I don't care.'

Me neither.

Sunday has suddenly started talking. Only a year or so after her sister did. But she's started and, as predicted, is straight into it in a big way. Sentences, thoughts, assertions, feelings - I'm in that golden age of wanting to write everything down, all the time. The thought of forgetting any of these adorable utterances is heart-breaking.

She cups my face, draws me close and beams, 'My Molly.'

She endlessly unpacks and repacks her Dad's toolbox while whispering, 'Spannah. Dwiver. Daddy.'

She's finally naming her big sister - just as we were wondering whether Sunday saw herself and her sister as one person, therefore not needing a separate indicator, 3 days ago she started calling her by name.

Cuteness 101 - how to win the whole family over in just a few weeks.

parenting in public

I read an article a few weeks back, an opinion piece really, wherein the writer was commenting on some kid's atrocious behaviour in the KFC. I've searched but I can't find the article to link to - sorry - but the point was that the writer, and most of those who left comments were taking the old 'in my day we just got klapped good and proper for bad behaviour - what's wrong with today's parents?' line. Yawn.

Whether you're a spanker or not, if you're a parent you'll know from experience or observation that 2% of the time a swift slap will silence an unreasonable child, the other 98% of the time? He or she'll just scream even louder.
Not the end goal you're hoping to achieve in a public place right?
Also, again whether you support spanking or not, I think that to spank in public is a very different kind of punishment than spanking at home. In public you're adding humiliation to the pain you've inflicted, on top of whatever emotion got the kid acting out in the first place.
Of the list I feel humiliation is the most harmful.

My take on the KFC-screamer was that the kid was over-tired, needing a poo, or hungry - hungry for real food I should add. These are the 3 main reasons my girls act up, though like all children, they're totally capable of pulling new reasons for losing their shit out the bag anytime.

All of this I considered as, under the watchful eye of a good dozen other parents (and knowing that whether in judgement or sympathy, they're definitely gauging my response), I had the rare delight of extracting my kicking and screaming, hungry, over-tired (and probably needing a poo - because don't they always in a public place anyway?), big girl from a restaurant over the weekend.

Here's how I did it:
I left husband to pay bill and handle non-screaming child
I told screamer firmly and quietly that she's disturbing the other diners and needs to calm down and come to the car. NOW.
I offered to carry her (a diffusing tactic which usually works - she's so big now that carrying is a treat)
But when it didn't, I scooped her (and her long, long kicking legs) up, and carried her to the car in a calm and dignified manner
At the car, I chucked her in the back seat, slammed door shut, locked car and while she thrashed and foamed at the mouth inside, sent this tweet:

And it really did.

I was proud of myself that I didn't lose my shit. That I didn't make any ridiculous threats, that I remained calm, that I didn't flash too much flab at innocent bystanders as I wrangled my girl, and crucially: that we didn't cave on the ice-cream issue which had caused the furor in the first place.

But I know enough to not regard this as a precedent set. I'm lucky that I can count on one hand the number of times my girls have (so far) caused a scene in public, but I'm under no illusions that I'm out of the woods on this one. And I know that my response hinges on as many factors as their behaviour does - very possibly this time the large G'nT I'd enjoyed with my meal made all the difference.

What I did learn is that parenting in public carries a whole set of different challenges to parenting at home, and that decisiveness, swift action and feigned nonchalance (to the freaking kid and the inevitable audience) is definitely my game plan. And maybe a stiff drink where possible.

Let's see if I have occasion to eat these words.

And btw - we don't have the pox! Yippeee.

seriously?

March was ... March. A month of madness. And now April is 13 days old and life's showing no signs of letting up.
School holidays, nanny on leave and now - suspected chicken pox.
Oh. freakin. JOY.

I'm waiting by the phone for the diagnosis.

Taller daughter went back to school for 1.5 days before I imposed isolation pending diagnosis, shorter daughter's not been back to school in case she's incubating. I won't be the mother who unleashes that lurgie on play group.
Did I mention our nanny's on leave?

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Answer: nowhere. Speed: slowly.

But look - 2 day old chameleon babies!

Life goes on.

easy egg decorating

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I.e. School holidays call for some crafting with the kids.

I got this idea from The Artful Parent, one of those online sources of much craft inspiration, and much parental desolation when one sees how beautiful and successful her craft projects with her kids are ...

I've said before how my Friday is not particularly into crafty projects, but I must confront my own reluctance to tackle them too.
I'm not a good (or patient) teacher when it comes to this kind of thing. I struggle with relinquishing control and while I'm by no means a neat freak, I really have to grin and bear the inevitable mess.
Maybe these are all reasons why we should do MORE crafty things, not less!

These were fun though. Hard-boiled eggs decorated with hole reinforcement stickers and then soaked in food dye baths.
Sunday's egg only got 4 stickers, Friday's got as many as they could handle and I played a bit too.

And then they got eaten for lunch.

pinspiration: stamp bunting

My friend Julochka has pledged to make one thing a day from Pinterest this week. Go see what she and her daughter made yesterday - it's so beautiful!

Coincidentally yesterday I found little multi-coloured ink pads at Plastics for Africa (love that shop) and got inspired to tackle a little from-Pinterest project of my own ...

Pencil eraser flag stamp. Very easy and fun.

A friend 'confessed' on facebook last night that she's alone at home for FIVE days while her husband's away with the kids and that got me enviously thinking what I'd do with that kind of time.

I'd craft.
I'd craft and craft and make and make and leave my messes and semi-completed projects all over the house. Because besides struggling to find the time for silly little craft projects I get so frustrated having to pack it all away every evening to avoid prying hands.
I know some say the answer is to involve the kids but sometimes, most times, a project like this is how I relax, it's my me-time and call me selfish, but I don't wanna share it.

I feel like I should add one of those sticking-out-tongue emoticons at the end of that sentence!

shadow play at Rhodes Mem

crossing over

family portrait

like a boss

May the rest of April be filled with light hearted mornings, family fun times and silliness. Oh and more chocolate croissants.