Camping is a Labor of Love

Camping is a lot like giving birth.
Now, don't scoff. Just bear with me.
We recently went on our annual camping trip to northern Minnesota.

I, personally, spent days planning it -- making sure we had clean clothes, making lists of what we'd need for food and supplies, etc.
I packed the night before and then got up the next morning at 5 to finish some housework and then pack the trunk of my tiny Corolla as efficiently as possible. That way we were able to leave by, at the latest, 7 a.m.
When I gave birth, everything was planned because the doctor scheduled an induction. So I was packed the night before and ready to leave with my last-minute items the following morning -- toothbrush, hair brush, etc.
Although this is not the case for every birth, most women typically have a bag packed for a few weeks before their due date.
We arrived at Lake Bronson State Park around 4 p.m. last Saturday and set up camp. We enjoyed a campfire, blew up our air mattress and prepared for a night of ... sleeping on the ground.
That's right, our air mattress leaked, leaving Derek and me moaning and groaning halfway through the night.
But Jacob slept fine as our weight kept his portion of the air mattress inflated.
We suffered pain all week as a labor of love. A well-rested 6-year-old kept our minds off the fact we'd have to suffer poor rest each night.
Ah, well.
The memories in between are priceless -- Jacob bringing me a moth whom he named Fluffy; visiting the Kittson County Historical Society and its buildings; trying to explain the purpose of a payphone and discovering several in operation in Kittson County alone; Jacob making a new friend, even if it was just for a night; cooking over a campfire; playing in a sandbox.

Jacob wondering what the heck a phone
is doing in the middle of nowhere.

Jacob's friend for an evening, Brendan.

Jacob sitting in an upper seat in the caboose
at the Kittson County Historical Society. 

As with giving birth, and the pain that goes with it -- not only for mothers, but the mental anguish or anxiety for fathers -- the end result always seems to be worth the struggles.
Every year we choose to go camping not only because Jacob wants to, but because Derek and I have fond memories of camping as children (maybe me moreso than Derek).
And every year, Derek or I say, "This is killing me," after several nights of basically sleeping on the ground.
However, we still plan a camping trip with more prominent memories in mind of how much fun we all had the previous year.
Just like giving birth and all the pain endured in the process, I will gladly go camping again and again to witness the final result -- the three of us making lasting memories in a place we love, with people we love. Just as Jacob gives us endless joy, so will our memories of camping with him.
In the future, we hope our memories are upgraded to a camper and a solid sleeping situation.