Camping with small children is all about Togetherness.
There is no television or computers or telephones to distract you, no walls to separate you, no toilet trip to be taken unaccompanied. You go to bed at the same time as the kids, you rise together at first birdcall, you eat together, you shower together, you laugh together, you cry inconsolably together.
And when you camp along a major route at Christmas time, you share a lot of togetherness time with a lot of other campers as well. For the record, I take no great pleasure in parading in front of a group of 20-something revelers in my floral pyjamas at 7 o’clock at night. Nor do I enjoy brushing my teeth less than a metre from a fellow camper taking a dump. Still, it’s all part of the communal camping experience and my internal hippy embraces that. No, really.
But in a recent camping stop at ‘Seaford’ (not it’s real name), I learnt that there was sharing and then there was sharing.
As we pulled into Seaford, we were greeted with a sign that said “Seaford says NO to Violence.” I don’t know about you but it was a sight that didn’t exactly fill my heart with confidence. Things must be pretty bad if the council had to advertise the fact they said NO to violence. I mean, it should be assumed that most towns in Australia would say NO to Violence, in the same way as they might say NO to Drink Driving, Wanton Destruction of Property, Excessively-Wide Shoulder Pads and (in a perfect world) Bratz Dolls. But there were no signs advertising any of that.
And in any case, who ever took notice of something that was written on a sign anyway? Except maybe “STOP” and “FREE BEER”.
ANYWAY, as we pulled up to our designated camping spot at the Seaford caravan park, we were understandably a little apprehensive when we saw our two young male neighbours, Jim Beam towel hung out like a flag, drinking beer at 3 o’clock. And they no doubt looked with equal trepidation at both my husband and I shouting at our three screaming children with Dire Straits blaring from the stereo (my husband’s choice, I’ll have you know). It was hard to know who’d got the worse deal.
In the end, it was The Pixie who swung it. Not only did she treat the entire campground to a “special show” which involved her shouting songs of her own creation from a wall outside the toilet blocks, but when I took her into the toilet, she announced in a very loud voice: “Oh, I don’t need to go to the toilet after all! I thought I did because my bottom was hurting. It must be hurting because I must have a BOTTOM BISEASE! Oh no! I can’t do my Show any more because of my BOTTOM BISEASE!” and crying loudly.
By the time we walked back to our tent past our neighbours, she had recovered enough to cheerfully ask (just as loudly): “Is Baby Jesus growing in my tummy?” and then, a few steps later, “Mummy, have you ever been stabbed? With a knife??”.
My answer? Certainly not in Seaford, where they say NO to Violence. Apparently. Although try telling that to my children who went on to spend at least an hour jumping around the tent shouting “I’m gonna smack your bum-bum!” before finally collapsing asleep. Sheesh, no wonder the people of Seaford put that sign up.
As for those two young men? They scurried out of camp with their slab of beer at the first opportunity to do their reveling elsewhere. We were too hardcore for them. Fact.
I always knew you were hardcore.
Hee hee, we’ve only camped once with all the kids, and that was in the middle of a field. I was very pleased about this when the 4 yr old woke up screaming repeatedly in the middle of the night.
Our friends have a camper van and 4 small boys. They once went camping in a quiet campsite, with only one other person who decided to camp in the spot right next to them. They tactfully suggested that he choose a space on the other side of the site, but he said, no, he was fine. Very early the next morning he moved. I don’t blame him.
You sure you don’t want to share the town’s name? I’d love to visit a place that says NO to violence 😉
That was awesome. Nothing like scaring a few guys away with the brilliance of energetic children.
Okay, this makes me even *more* fearful of the camping trip that is currently hanging over my head. Hubby took our two big boys camping a while ago, and I (in some sort of brain meltdown moment) convinced him to buy the Taj Mahal of all tents in light of the fact that the 3yo and I would so *obviously* join him and the big boys at some stage. And why waste money on something that wouldn’t go the distance?
Now my suggestion hangs over me like a heavy cloud. Give me a hotel any day. *sigh*
This is why I do not do camping and have not done camping since about 1981 with the Guides (long story with no lesbian undertones). The togetherness, the beasties & the communal toilets are just too scary. HWC is most keen on the whole camping business so we shall be heading to Seaford or its ilk soon – I will be in a hotel, for the avoidance of doubt.
What is it about certain young men who look at children as though they might be catching?
Gold.
I think we may have spent Christmas in Seaford, NDM.
Brilliant.
The League of Gentlemen’s “You’ll Never Leave” sign outside of Royston Vasey was inspired by Gloucester, home of serial killer Fred West which displayed this sign, sinisterly, at its outskirts.
On our holiday in Upper Seaford (not its real name) the first sign we saw was outside the High School which proudly declared (channeling the Dukes of Hazard), “Class of 2009 Sure Were Mighty Fine”. Hopefully not written by the English teacher.
Oh God I am almost crying with laughter.
My sons (age 6 and 4) go to a lil kickers football class which has a huge sign upon entry to the hall ‘Do NOT bring firearms or knives into this sports center’. So reassuring to know that people are being deterred from creating deadly violent assault WITHIN the football pitch. (Doesn’t stop the little blighters kicking and hitting the shit out of each other of course.)
This one time, when I had the Bottom Bisease…
FANTASTIC – you have my children – except mine are older and should know better – but they don’t.
Should have visited Westbreeze instead. They say NO to Bottom Bisease.
I am going to print this out and hand it to all those who regard me with surprise when I tell them I never go camping.
Love it.
This is just brilliant 🙂
I love this: ‘Still, it’s all part of the communal camping experience and my internal hippy embraces that.’
This communal experiences are so stressful, I don’t know why they call it ‘holidays’…
Happy 2010!
Oops sorry for the silly mistakes
BAD camping flashbacks reading your brilliant and grim post. And I’m only flashing back to when we camped with one kid. We’ve had 3 since. And I haven’t camped since we camped with one. Why ever not?
Totally loving your blog! I think you may enjoy mine as it’s also about a mom and three kids. Well, mine are grown and we’re writing this blog together in anticipation of a parenting book we hope to write later this year. Please check us out at http://raisingamazingdaughters.wordpress.com and if you like it (I saw this sign in a restaurant yesterday and am adopting it as my very own), please tell everyone you know. If you don’t like it, please tell us why. Thanks. Happy New Year! Debby
The Pixie’s behaviour – what do you expect when she’s done time in a confined space with Dire Straits on the stereo?
I have been camping with your husband (not his real name) – there was no Dire Straits, or if there was he was hiding it. He had his own tent to himself so it’s entirely possible (and on reflection, the ‘kangaroo’ we heard crashing about at night was probably your husband practising his air guitar in the moonlight). Thank goodness there’s more of you now to keep him company.
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