Come H*&% or High Water

This weekend will be added to the ever growing list of things I thought I would never do, but did.

From the time that I can remember a group of my parents friends would get together twice a year and go camping. In all the years that they went my family and I never joined them except for an occasional day trip of swimming and bar-b-que. My mother's assement of camping was heat, bugs, snakes, and general discomfort, so that is what camping meant to me.

My husband on the other hand had very fond memories of his parents taking him and his five siblings camping in a renovated school bus. Since we have been married he has longingly talked about how fun it would be to go camping. Later when the kids came along his enthusiam increased. I was always the wet blanket on his excitement and vetoed the idea every time.

Within the last year my mother and father became the proud owners of a used travel trailer and set out on several camping trips across our home state. Nothing surprise my siblings and I more than hearing my parents talk about how much they enjoyed their camper. If my mother found enjoyment out of this new hobby then maybe I needed to reexamine my stance.

I started by just taking a look at the inside of their camper to gauge how many creature comforts such a contraption could offer. I was pleasantly surprised to see all the amenities a girl could ever want. This jarred my long held notions of what camping was about.

Around this time we received an invitation to go camping with a group of our friends. The more I pondered the invitation the more I leaned toward going. Don't think for a moment that there weren't moments were I questioned my decision and my sanity. I tried on several occasions to back out, but how do you tell three children that mommy is too scared to sleep in a travel trailer for the weekend?

I guess come h*&% or high water we are going on this trip.