According to the plan, we should be somewhere around Albany, New York, right about now. Maybe a bit farther. On our way to Herkimer, for a weekend of camping with old friends.
Instead, we’re home, feeling disappointed that we won’t be seeing our friends, but also feeling a little relieved at the amount of effort we were able to avoid exerting… and a little guilty for feeling relieved.
It’s just too much to add in to the summer, right now. We made the plans back in the spring, sometime, before we had any idea about things like moving, or pregnancy, or the full extend of my spinal issues. I don’t think the back problem, by itself, is bad enough to prevent tent-camping, but combined with long walks to the bathroom, having to dig out the camping supplies, and losing a weekend to unpack before school starts… it was all just too much.
On the one hand, it feels like we made an adult decision, opting to stay home and get things done around the house instead of indulging in s’mores and beer for the weekend. On the other hand, I hate canceling out on plans, especially so last-minute (we just decided yesterday), knowing we’re disappointing people who matter to us.
The kids are oddly unconcerned about it – they were excited at the prospect of going, and are perfectly content at the change.
So, I suppose, instead, we’ll just have to do an at-home sort of camping experience… perhaps something that involves a bonfire in the driveway, sticking the cat and the guinea pig somewhere in the backyard to represent wildlife, and pitching Emily’s little tent for the night. I actually might do the last bit, if the kids really have their hearts set on at least one outdoor-sleepover this summer. But I’ll insist upon coming inside and using the bathroom. No reason to endear ourselves to the new neighbors in quite that manner.