Family Matters

Crappy Hamper. I Mean, Happy Camper.

I am not a camper. Growing up, our family holidays consisted of short day trips to local attractions where my brother and I would fight and my mom would lock herself in a bathroom at TGIFriday’s and cry. And we stayed in hotels because THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE DO.

Anyhoozers. We have wanted to try camping as a family, and a big part of why Steve quit his job and is solely farming is for the flexibility in his hours over the summer…so, CAMPING!

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We went to my brother-in-law’s property at Mizzezula Lake where he has a small one-room cabin and a couple old trailers…no running water, no shower, no indoor plumbing. That’s ok! That’s cool! That’s CAMPING!

The thing is, when it’s 40 degrees out and your cabin is filled with blood-thirsty mosquitoes and it’s 2 am and the kids are still awake and crying and sweaty and itchy from bug bites…yeah, that’s when you call it. What was supposed to be a 2 day trip turned into a 30 hour excursion wherein we came home a night early so we didn’t have another terrible sleep.

In between the chaos, we did make some great memories though. So, it WAS worth it.

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Brinley spinning donuts on the aluminum boat that leaked.

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Steve isn’t on Facebook, but if he were, I think this would be his profile pic. 

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Family shot at the beach!

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I just need a week to recover, that’s all.

2 Comments

  • This is why I don’t camp. I cabin. (It’s SO a verb.)

  • I love camping! I like to tent it, and go somewhere like Waskesiu or Clear Lake. They are both gorgeous, have running water, nice washrooms and showers, and power, so that we can have music playing while we sit around the campfire. The problem is … my husband doesn’t like camping. He doesn’t see the appeal of paying to “pretend we’re homeless”.

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