This year's adventure wasn't as bold as last summer, but considering my energy level (or lack of it) it was still bold to drive 11 hours to go camp for four nights by Mt. Rushmore. My children made it happen. They spent four days cleaning, loading gear in the car, making meals, tending while I shopped and had appointments, packing, helping to plan food, doing laundry...my four oldest were amazing. And a nice little impression from the spirit to drive halfway and stay in a hotel for the night made it seem do-able. Callie drove about 75% of the way to South Dakota and back and did a great job. So it is my sweet, wonderful children that we can thank for the wonderful time there and the memories that we get to keep forever.
Tender moments for me:
Sleeping on the tent floor with Emmie sandwiched in between Drew and I. I woke up many, many times in the night to check and see if she was warm enough. There is something about sleeping in close proximity to my children (in small doses) that warms the cockles of the heart even if it means not sleeping much. Perhaps Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best, "There never was a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him asleep." Amen.
Somehow we ended up with a wet sleeping bag. I think some water spilled on it, in the car. We had just enough bags for each body but luckily there was a laundromat. I trucked down the hill to find all the dryers very full, and all damp. I chatted for a moment with a nice lady about the ethics of taking out someone else's load of damp laundry (since it had stopped) for just a few minutes of drying time, and ended up leaving my wet load on a table. I was tired and didn't want to keep carrying the sleeping bag back and forth. Some time later I remembered that I needed to check and see if there were available dryers and I ran back down to the laundromat. That same lady was there and she told me that she threw it in a dryer for me that had some time left on it. It was dry and ready. Bless her heart, she made my day! Thank you, thank you fellow camper. The little things mean a lot.
The rangers at Mt. Rushmore are fantastic. I don't know what kind of a screening process they have to go through, but they are kind and super patient with all the little wiggly people. Their countenances shine. They are patriotic and helpful and like very kind grandpas. I was in one room at the visitor's center when a ranger came in and asked if there was a Suzanne in the room. Why yes, that is my name. And instantly I knew that I must have lost somebody. It was a Drew. A very worried Drew. He wanted to know if I was worried that he was lost. No, since I never realized he was lost until after the fact (that happens when you are touring with 11 children); mostly just super grateful that he was found and had a great ranger watching out for him. And since he was such a help at the ranger desk while he was waiting to find his mama, he got a ranger badge. After he did the jr. ranger program he went back for a second one - and they gave it to him!
At Mt. Rushmore, Camden was pretty sure that George Washington and Joseph Smith were the same person - or at least brothers. They definitely both have a great spirit and I was touched that Camden could sense that.
We had a wonderful campsite but either our neighbors were all transient or we drove them away, because we had new ones every night. One night we were already tucked in when a family pulled up two sites away. They were loud, the grandpa and his granddaughter particularly so. Enough that I could clearly hear everything they said. My children were asleep and I wanted to be, but I kept listening to the trouble they were having with broken tent poles and I knew they were setting up by the headlights on their car. I fought with myself for a long time before I got up, put on my shoes, and took some duct tape over to the surprised grandpa. He came over the next morning to return it and thank me. I hope it helped them out just a little. It helped my heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment