I Have a Confession

"Are you relaxing?"

Hubby asked me Saturday afternoon. We were on a weekend family get away. We were CAMPING.

I looked at him cross-eyed, and said something about it not being the spa, but the kids were happy so I was happy.

If you can't be honest with your husband, then who can you be honest with?

Our church retreat was this past weekend. The routine has been to rent a pop-up camper for two nights, head out Friday, the kids play in the stream Saturday morning and in the pool Saturday afternoon and evening, I sit in a camping chair all day Saturday catching up with friends, and then we head out on Sunday. Oh yes, and there is a lot of eating in between.

Along with a lot of clothing changes. We never remember to dress the kids in their swimming suits first thing Saturday morning. So, by mid-morning, when they are down to one change of clean shorts and underwear we finally tell them to wear their suits.

The weekend was fun. And, in a camping sort of way, relaxing. We sat around and watched the kids play. The adults talked, and we played with the kids. We connected with those in our Sunday school class, and other attenders of our church whom we normally don't have a chance to talk with.

It was a fun weekend.

It is just that I'm not a camping sort of girl. Anything below Hampton Inn is roughing it for me.

And though sleeping on a slab of foam, on top of a slab of wood, is an upgrade from sleeping on the ground when I was in Girl Scouts, I'm getting old and really, really, really, LOVE my king-size bed.

I'm now researching spa get-a-ways. After this weekend I deserve it.