I've been thinking lately about the difference between Bloggereality and, well, reality. I've observed a rather large gap between the two, at least for myself, and--I am hoping--for all of you (if I'm wrong on this, then I really did get the shaft and my life is pitiful compared to everyone else's perfect children, dream vacations, and stunning good looks.) So, though perhaps my own reality doesn't always "bite," it doesn't always smile, either. Case in point: Big, Annual Camping Trip, lots of planning, some of our best friends, perfect location, lots of junk food shopping, lots of packing, lots of excited kids, lots of excited adults. Bloggereality would report that this trip went perfectly, as evidenced by the perfectly posted pictures, but I am here to set the record straight. I learned last weekend that coming down with something akin to Strep Throat, complete with fever, chills and vomiting in a "cabin" (dare we give it that much credit?) with nothing nearby but an outhouse is, in the end, its own brand of adventure. Real adventure, not sissybloggingadventure. You know what I mean.
So. I didn't get to be hyper and goofy with my kids and howl at the moon in the great outdoors, like I'd planned. But...
And on our last day I got to follow the children through the trees to the "secret place" they'd been doggedly hiding from us all weekend, which we parents had to admit was pretty spectacular.
And I got to smell Megan's proud find (think dead. think fish. no. think only fish skin.)
And I got to consume mass quantities of Rachel's sublime homemade-yes-straight-from-her-garden spaghetti sauce, which is the new Bomb in my life (need that recipe, Rache! need you to grow the veggies for me, Rache!) I missed out on canoeing, fishing, and the slip 'n slide (achey body napping in said "cabin")...
but I got to be in the beautiful mountains with my great friends, great family, and great weather. When you've got the essentials covered, even if things aren't blogperfect, they can still be really, really good.
That's all we know.
Ethan and Max. All weekend. Do not even ask.
The elusive Secret Place
Clara had to be the sweetest, quietest, happiest baby I'd ever been around. Yes, I am including my own children in this assessment.
The dead fishskin find. Still not sure where she found it, how she got it, why she wanted it. Never did get a clear answer on that.
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