The Trip That Broke Us
Only 2.5 months have gone by since the Labor Day vacation that is sure to go down in Menaul Family History as the Camping Trip That Broke Us. If I start banging my head against the laptop while writing this, I’ll know I need more time to elapse before tackling this post. To maintain distance from the events of the weekend, I shall write this post in the 3rd person.
Here goes: In the summer of 2017, Sarah & Travis discovered to their delight that camping with infant Levi was a cinch. (Read “Car Camping with an Infant 101” for our strategies.) In the summer of 2018, however, they discovered to their dismay that camping with toddler Levi is whatever the opposite of a cinch is. Like so many humans, Levi is a creature of habit; it is no longer his habit to sleep with his parents (he sleeps in a crib in his room now), let alone out of doors, and this resulted in disaster.
This picture was taken upon arrival at Sequim Bay State Park, when we were unaware of the new level of nighttime torture Levi had in store for us. . .
And yet, prior to Labor Day weekend, the Menaul Family managed a total of 7 nights of summer camping with toddler Levi. The nights weren’t fun, but the days made up for it, so Sarah & Travis persevered. Here is a summary of a typical evening at camp:
7:30pm: Sarah, Travis, and Levi retire to the tent for bedtime preparation. This involves doing everything possible to recreate the home routine: diaper change, pajamas, books, nursing.
8pm: Levi is sleeping. Sarah tells herself he might sleep through the night this time, but she knows he won’t.
8-9pm: Beer and dialogue about how terrible last night was and how great it would be if Levi slept through the night tonight.
9pm: Sarah retires to the tent. Travis has another beer.
10pm-12am: Everyone sleeps.
12-5am: A series of torturous ups and downs, occurring at approximately 30-minute intervals, during which 1) Levi wakes up whining, which quickly escalates to shrieking 2) Travis begins his obsessive and maniacal “Shhhhhh-ing” mantra, while Sarah attempts a comfortable nursing position (very difficult without walls to lean on) 3) Levi falls asleep and Sarah lays him down on the disproportionately large section of the tent his parents lovingly prepared for him 4) Repeat steps 1-4. At a certain point, Sarah gives up hope and resolves to go home as soon as the sun comes up. (Travis loyally sits up and commiserates through the first 1-2 cycles. By 2am, Travis, in legitimate self-preservation mode, is sleeping soundly.)
5am: Levi is fully awake and ready for the day. Sarah and Travis are somehow incredulous, even though this never doesn’t happen.
5-7am: Quiet play time in the tent during which Sarah and Travis do not make eye contact, and silently question not only their decision to go camping, but their decision to have a baby in the first place.
This 12-hour cycle presented itself twice in July and a whopping 5 times in August. Morning time was generally sad, but Sarah and Travis found that with the right amount of coffee, their desire to flee lessened, and they decided again and again to stick it out one more day. (This was particularly impressive during their 5-night stay at Crater Lake, where there was a forest fire and they camped in a monstrous pile of dust. But that’s a story for another time.)
Our dusty campsite at Crater Lake National Park.
As Labor Day weekend approached, and Sarah felt the now-familiar panic at the thought of nighttime in the tent, they discussed potential Plan Bs. Sarah secretly wished Travis would want to cancel their trip, but Travis, always the glutton for punishment, was steadfast. And so they went.
Sarah vaguely recalls that the daytimes were fun. The faithful Hovee Family once again agreed to camp next door, even after experiencing Levi’s nighttime antics back in July. Daytime activities included: following Levi and Jack as they explored camp, hiking, playing at the beach, and throwing rocks into the Bay. But a dark cloud hung over everything: the inevitable coming of evening, bedtime, and the terrible nighttime cycles that had become synonymous with sleeping outside.
The Hovees bought this awesome campground wagon as Costco. Yes, those are beers in the pockets. For obvious reasons, they were an absolute necessity.
Mamas doing the heavy lifting this time.
Levi and Jack enjoying some downtime at camp
On the second night of the three-day weekend, Sarah, perhaps subconsciously in tune with Levi’s intentions, decided to forgo the usual 8-9pm beer, and went to bed early. This turned out to be a good move, as Levi began the first cycle of insomnia earlier than usual; by 11 pm, Sarah knew it was going to be a long night.
Is it just me, or can you see the plan hatching in Levi’s little eyes?
Why was this night more unbearable than the others, you ask? Well, let’s start with Travis’s somewhat atypical behavior: there was an absence of camaraderie on this particular evening; after a half-hearted “shh-ing” during the first cycle, he made no attempt at participation. Also, through some freak coincidence, Travis – not typically a snorer – snored loudly and unflaggingly throughout the night, which was a constant reminder that he was not engaging in the torturous ups and downs, seemingly unaware of any responsibility of parenthood. Sarah was alone. She began to think of the snoring as a self-defense mechanism; this theory was enhanced as campers in the surrounding sites began to snore as well, as if they were creating a sound barrier to protect themselves.
Back in July, Sarah had begun utilizing a Crazy Kreek camp chair as a nursing prop in the tent, which is a lot like nursing a baby while sitting in a giant clam shell. It was midnight and 45 degrees, she was wearing long underwear nursing a 25-pound baby in a clam shell, listening to a nasal choir, and Sarah kind of lost her mind. By the time Levi uttered the 5am whine, Travis opened his eyes, and Sarah, delirious at this point, could manage nothing more than: “Go away! Take him away!”
Travis, likely still in self-preservation mode, obeyed without question, and drove Levi to Port Townsend. (Local readers will note the length of this 52-mile round-trip drive.) Sarah slept for 1.5 hours, then calmly packed up everything in the tent, and awaited her small family’s return with a mixture of intense and highly contradictory feelings (love/hate, satisfaction/longing, amusement/misery, etc.).
Thankfully, the Hovees elevated the general mood (Jack, a co-sleeper at home, is unfazed by the tent), the day’s activities proceeded as planned, and everyone headed back to Seattle a day early.
The faithful Hovees, our favorite camping buds!
Here’s the point: When it comes to our kids, nothing stays the same; nothing is easy — or hard — forever. I started this blog because I know that being outside with children is good for them. In the summer of 2017, when Levi was a newborn, camping was easy. This summer, it wasn’t. I love camping. But it’s not the end of the world. Sometimes you have to admit defeat. As disappointing as it is, I need sleep more than I need to spend 24 hours outside.
So, what’s our next step, you ask? Cruise America, of course!! Bring on the generator! Hooray for the Pack ‘n Play! Love me some cushions! We’ll let you know how it goes.
Levi checking out his future: a row of RVs at Sequim Bay State Park.