Parenting Under the Stars

I’ve just had the best time reminiscing about my own girls’ camp experiences. I might even try to dig up some pictures to show my kids. Back then I was a fun, congenial, pratical-joke playing girl, and maybe I could be that way now. What changes from point A to point B that makes a person settle down so . . . . far?

You may think that bathroom humor is only for boys, but I can tell you that camping girls can get into it, too. When I was 13, the other girls my age and I would play jokes on each other. We had a single wooden outhouse without a door latch. You just turned over the sign that said occupied and prayed that whoever was outside wouldn’t burst in on you. But of course they did. If you went to camp with a modicum of modesty and dignity, it was completely shattered by the end of camp.

This one year one year it was a practical joke to FLING open the door and photo the unsuspecting (sort of) soul on the pot. I have pictures of two of my friends shaking their fingers at me, and one of me frantically trying to tuck my shirt in my pants.

In the photo I have on my huge 1970s glasses that take up my whole face. I am wearing (another sort of) gray cords and a plaid shirt. I look like I weigh about 90 pounds. Wow. The pictures are fuzzy, probably because of the speed at which they were taken. I remember my mother being flabergasted that I would do such a thing after closely examining the photos.

Of course she said she neverwould have participated in such a thing. She probably told me she never even went to girl’s camp. After thinking back on my experience, I am not surprised by anything I might see in my own daughter’s camp pictures. Well, almost anything.

Since I’ve been listening to my daughter’s experiences at camp this year, I can’t help but reflect on my own memories at Girl’s Camp. Bear with me.

The first year was the scariest. The older girls try to scare the younger ones with a snipe hunt. A snipe is an imaginary animal, but you don’t know that when you’re 12 or 13. You believe the whole thing with all your heart. When it’s all over, you can’t wait to play the trick on the first year girls the next year.

You are armed with sticks and pillowcases. The older girls lead you on the hunt through the woods, banging their sticks together to attract snipes. After five minutes of the loudest banging and hollering imaginable, you hear a yell that pierces your ears. “I’ve got it!” one of the older girls screams over and over.

Then “It bit me!” she wails even louder. You run ahead to see a disgusting scene. Her pillowcase is stained red. You realize with a sick feeling that it’s blood. There is a bulge in the pillowcase. Another older girl is waving it around. The girls who has been bitten is sobbing and holding her arm, blood gushing out of the “wound.” You are horrified. We rush back to camp in a dramatic, tragic scene that rivals the noise level at a hard rock concert.

The sobs are growing louder and more fake-sounding. There are no tears coming from her eyes. The blood is rather thick and pasty looking, kind of like catsup. Hmmm. You start to have your doubts, but then you believe again briefly when one of the older girls starts wacking the lumpy pillowcase to death, and then confirms, “It’s dead.”

By then you start hearing some giggling and snickering. You realize that everyone is looking at you and the other first years. Somebody opens the pillowcase and pulls a “bloody” Daniel Boone fur cap out. “My brother’s going to kill me when he see this,” she whines.

The actors head to the water taps to wash off the “joke,” while the first years sit down by the campfire, breathless and wide-eyed.

Here is a story about bats at camp in Samantha’s words.

“We were having a talent show outside and some people were in the cabin and they came out running saying, ‘There’s a bat in the cabin!’ So everybody jumps up and sprints to the cabin and runs upstairs. We were all in a line trying to see the bat and the bat comes right at our heads and all of us in the line screamed and ducked. Then Alisha tried smacking it with a broom and Rachel was trying to force it out a window. Then we heard a scream from downstairs. We all ran downstairs and the bat was chasing Sister Salanoa and Sister Wilkerson around the cabin. Both of them were screaming and they were waving their hands above their heads. So, we got one bat out and there was still a bat upstairs, but it stayed in its little corner.

“On the same night Emily was lying down. There was a little shelf above the ground where she was laying. She suddenly screamed and ran to the other corner. She screamed, ‘There’s a black widow!’ And we all screamed and ran to the other corner with her. Then we overcame our fear and wanted to go see it. There was an egg sac with it. Alisha got the bug spray and kept spraying, spraying, spraying. Then she said a black widow prayer. The End.

It seems to me, all that happened at camp was screaming. Which is not so hard to believe, given all the gross creatures and all the hormones and emotions running rampant at camp.

The laundry room smells like a campfire, and the sleeping bag needs to go to the dry cleaners. I’ve heard that fellow camper Alisha can put her entire fist in her mouth up to her wrist and can cram nearly three doughnuts in at once. That bats scared the leaders out of the cabin on the last night and it was “hilarious!”

Samantha’s new best friend from camp is Eliza because she is “so cool.” Samantha’s crowining achievement: She was the only one who wasn’t scared to free fall backward into her friend’s arms during the “trust fall.” She said it was easy.

We have one happy ex-camper at our house.

“Mom! I still haven’t finished telling you about camp,” she said yesterday. Never mind that she talked non-stop for 30 minutes describing every detail. “But that was just the first few days!”

Rule #1: Never let your kids wear anything they or you care about to camp. I should know this. Case in point: jeans. Her new jeans were faded with two supposed-to-be holes in them. They came home completely soaked with a rip that extends from the bottom of the zipper to the waistline.

“How did you do this,” I asked, annoyed.

“I don’t know. It just happened,” she told me. “You know all the running around and bending down to pick things up and just messing around.” (To me, it looks like she got them caught on a tree and didn’t realize until they were practically ripped off her.) Geez. I tossed them into the trash. She yelled “No!” and begged me to patch them. She argued fearlessly when I told her they were unpatchable or unsewable. Geez.

Then I told her what every parent swears they’ll never tell their kids: “Well, next time you’ll be more careful.” I could almost hear a tape recording of all the voices who have told me that in my life. I heard grandmas, mom, aunts, dad, uncles etc. saying that to me years earlier.

So, we got over that. Except that now we need new jeans.

Today I promised I’d listen more about camp. I’ve cleared my schedule from 2:00 to 3:00 for this event. I may even type it up as she talks.

But I don’t think I can type that fast.

My 12-year old daughter, Samantha, got home from our church’s Girl’s Camp yesterday. She was high as a kite from putting on skits, tipping the canoe over, making new friends and singing campfire songs. A day later, she’s still singing those repetitive songs that you can never get out of your head. Remember this one?

Oh the Lord said to Noah there’s going to be a floody floody,
The Lord said to Noah there’s going to be a floody floody,
Get those animals out of the muddy muddy, children of the Lord.

Chorus:
So rise and shout and give God your glory, glory,
Rise and shout and give God your glory, glory
Rise and shout and give God your glory, glory children of the Lord.

How about this one:

The cannibal king with a big nose ring
Fell in love with a husky maid
And every night in the pale moonlight,
Across the bay he’d wade.

Boom boom (two kissing sounds)
Boob boom (two kissing sounds)
Under the bamboo tree
Boom boom (two kissing sounds)
Boom boom (two kissing sounds)
Honey won’t you marry me?

These songs bring back tons of memories of my own Girls’ Camps–the giggling, flighting, crying, joke playing, but most of all sitting around the fire singing silly songs. I think I’m going to teach my kids some of these goofy songs on our next campout. Try these campfire songs if your memories don’t serve you.

I must admit I told my son to get off the computer three or four times yesterday, just like Jolene Ivey, a mother of five sons and Democratic member of the Maryland House of Delegates. She buys her children outdoor toys and they don’t have video game systmes in the house, but her nine-year old’s preocupation with the computer is “enough trouble.”

I’m still talking about the Washington Post. article “Getting Lost in the Great Outdoors” by Donna St. George. I’ll stop writing about it today, but it has been endlessly fascinating to me. I hope others will read it.

According to a Kaiser Family Foundation study, children 8 to 18 spend 6.5 hours a day on television, electronic games, computers music and other media, with many multitasking electronically. This is outrageous! This is disturbing!

Marguerite Kondracke, president of America’s Promise Alliance, said the change in how children spend their leisure time is more dramatic than most people recognize and can lead to problems such as obesity and depression.

“I believe this has happened so gradually,” she said, “that we as adults don’t realize what’s taken place . . .I think we as a nation need to wake up to this.”

Wouldn’t it be nice to routinely say to our kids, “Stop playing outside!” I think we as parents need to consciously work toward this.

Yesterday I mentioned the increased activism to get kids into the great oudoors. Washington Post Staff writer Donna St. George writes that part of this activism is inspired by the best-selling book “The Last Child in the Woods” and its author, Richard Louv.

Louv has coined the phrase “nature deficit disorder.” He argues that “indoor kids are more prone to a range of childhood problems, including obesity, depression and attention disorders.” He says they miss out on the spiritual, emotional, and psychological benefits of exposure to the wonders of nature, including reduced stress and improved cognitive development, creativity and cooperative play.

Wow.Then Louv says, “I think we’re going to pay a price if we don’t turn this around.” I agree. But I live in Utah where I can be biking up a major canyon in minutes and don’t get attacked by mosquitos when I walk out the door in the summers. What about kids in metropolitan areas, what should they do? Their parents can sign them up for “organized outdoor activities,” and that may help, but it’s not really what Louv and St. George are talking about.

They’re talking about kids experiencing the joy of breathing the fresh air and noticing the landscape, without any “Rah-Rah” coach or organizer on the sidelines. That seems to be what the goal is.

Experts suggest that outdoor time for kids has declined because parents worry about leaving children unattended, and subject to the horrors of a violent society. Changes in family life–more mothers in the workforce–have also influenced how often kids get outside.

Question? How do we lure kids off the computer and into the outdoors? Even when it’s calling and readily available, kids aren’t taking the bait.

What are your ideas?

The days when parents tell their children to “just go outside” may be over.

Children’s adovocates, environmentalists, business executives and political leaders fear that we are raising a generation of “indoor children,” who are largely disconnected from nature. Let’s add parents to the list of people who fear that their children are growing up completely unaware that there is anything going on beyond Play Stations computer games.

Parents out there! Please read this very imortant, poignant article from yesterday’s Washington Post. “Getting Lost in the Great Indoors” by Donna St. George discusses the national movement to “leave no child inside.” Capitol Hill hearings, state legislative action, grass-roots projects, a U.S. Forest Service Initiative to get more children into the woods and national effort to promote a “green hour” in each day are now joining forces to get American children outside.

In fact, today, 40 civic leaders will launch a campaign to raise $20 million that will fund 20 initiatives across the country to encourage children to go outdoors.

What? I can’t believe it’s come to this. That we have to find a way to get children outdoors. But it has.

University of Maryland professor Sandra Hofferth conducted a study between 1997 and 2003, where she found that there was a decline of 50 percent in the proportion of children 9 to 12 who spend time outside hiking, walking, fishing, beach play and gardening.

The phrase “nature deficit disorder” has even been coined.

More on this tomorrow.

What’s do you think about this, and how do we encourage (or force, insist, demand) that our children go outside?

The local paper, Deseret Morning News reported today that the black bear that killed an 11-year old boy yesterday was the “first black bear-related death recorded in Utah.” The bear was described as a “Level Three” bear, one that has displayed aggressive behavior toward humans, has little fear of humans, or has attempted to kill domestic pets.” Officials say that the minimal amount of food in the campsite appeared to have nothing to do with the bear attack. Why then?

There may never be a answer to that question. That’s what’s so disturbing.

I can’t count the nights my family and I have slept in tents. This tragedy makes me want to avoid ever doing it again, although I most likely won’t. I used to laugh at all the campgrounds littered with campers and RVs, thinking that they weren’t really camping. Sometimes we were the only tent. Now it seems the ones who slept inside were the smart ones.

Every summer we vacation at a cabin near Yellowstone National Park where grizzlies and black bears are plentiful. There is a black bear skin hanging on the wall in the main room. My grandfather shot it years ago when it was scavenging around the cabin, back when it wasn’t illegal to shoot bears.

When we’d go huckleberry picking in the forest, we’d take pails with “bear bells” dangling from the sides to warn them away. As I child I secretly hoped I’d never run into one like little Sal did in Blueberries for Sal. I never did, but I always wondered what was behind the next grouping of lodgepole pines. Maybe a mother gizzly and her cub?

I am lost in these thoughts today.

Last night an 11-year old boy was killed by a black bear in American Fork Canyon, about 30 minutes from my home. He was ripped from his tent and dragged 400 yards away. Read about the story at ksl.com. I am horrified that a family summer campout ended so tragically. I am horrifed that this family had to suffer something so unimaginable. I offer condolences to the family of this boy, and cannot fathom the pain they must be feeling. More on this tomorrow.

I asked my nine-year old Nathan about his favorite camping memory. Apparently I was not on this trip to Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and after hearing what happened, that might be a good thing. These are his words:

“This was on my first backpacking trip where there were all these rock places where you climbed up to get to all these Indain adobe houses. We’d just barely got to camp and I climbed up this almost straight up and down wall with only a few dents to climb in. And then I moved to the right where there was, like, this plant growing out and a rock under it where I could put my foot to climb. And then I kept going right until I couldn’t go right anymore so I went back left and I couldn’t find my way down. I had to hang on by leaning back, sitting down and holding on with my arms. I thought I might be there for a while or have to jump down. After about 30 minutes Dad finally found a way for me to get down, but I still had to jump down to him when I was about six feet from the ground. I thought I’d have to jump down from WAAAYYY up there.”

OK. What else do I NOT want to know about?

Let’s talk a bit about taking teenagers on a family campout. They may think they’re too good to do anything with the family, and they can think that if they want. They may think their lives are over when they can’t text anymore because their cell phones have lost reception, but they’ll get over it. They may pout and glare at you for 100 miles because they can’t believe you have subjected them to the immaturity and general disgusting habits/sounds/gestures of their nine-year old brothers. Again, this too shall pass. Here are some ideas about taking teenagers on a campout, and how to survive the trip unscathed.

1. Let them bring a friend. They’ll be on better behavior. It isn’t solely a “family” campout anymore, but at least the principal members are present. One more won’t change the dynamics too much.

2. Show them pictographs and petroglyphs. They think this is cool. “Dude! It’s like they were texting into the cliff!”

3. Feed them. A lot. Especially boys. If they start to gripe, it won’t be anything that a handful or an entire bage of M and Ms won’t cure. Make sure you don’t run out of food. This might be a crime for which you’ll never be forgiven. Never underestimate the appetite of youth that are growing inches per month. Whenever you think you have enough, double it.

4. Let them build a fire. They like fires. Just don’t leave them unattended after that. Don’t think about going to your tent or camper to bed, for instance.

5. Don’t be gone too many days. Teens get cranky when they can’t chat or text or IM or just plain talk on the phone, whatever it is they do. Girls can go about 2.5 days without a hair straightener and then they’ve just got to get back to civilization and electricity!

And one more. Let them have their music, even if it means they don’t hear the nature sounds that most people go camping to hear. At this point in their lives, having their presence may be all you’re gonna get.

Any other ideas?

There have been some camping trips where I have been woefully unprepared to bring my little kids along. I remembered food, diapers, wipes and sippy cups, but I forgot to bring things that really make them happy. Here are some things that keep kids happy on trips. I’d like to hear what you all think are the five most important things to take for your child (say under five) to keep him or her in a decent frame of mind while you’re enjoying mother nature (or trying to, anyway). Here are mine:

1. It’s fun to bring along exciting new food to try (I’m sure you’ll enjoy it) but little kids really need their standbys. In a new environment, it helps to bring the string cheese or the special crackers, or whatever staple they eat all the time at home.

2. Lots of socks. They will get wet and dirty, but they also need to have warm feet while sleeping. There’s nothing worse than cold feet in the middle of the night in a tent.

3. Their own personal flash light. They don’t have to share it with anyone. They have can make their own light when there are no lights to turn on. This doesn’t have to be a nice one (it probably shouldn’t be a nice one. The ones from an Arctic Circle kid’s meal work great. If it breaks, it breaks.

4. Medicine for fevers in the middle of the night and bandaids for tons of scrapes. ‘Nuff said.

5. Don’t leave home without the special blanket or stuffed animal or no one will be a happy camper when it’s time for bed!

When I asked my 12-year old, Samantha, what her favorite camping memory was she didn’t hesitate in her response. She said five things: 1. Last summer 2. Zion’s National Park 3. Virgin River 4. Dad’s keys at the bottom on the river 5. The tow truck.

Zion National Park in Southern Utah is one of the state’s amazing treasures. The red-rock scenery speckled with the spring green foilage is unparalleled. The virgin river that meanders through the these spectacular cliffs is like heaven on earth. Unless something unfortunate happens, in which case you might as well be rafting through a sewer.

So, last year we had rented tubes to float down the river. Hint: Never take a four-year old on one of these. There are a few gentle rapids. Even gentle rapids can overturn your tube if you go in at the wrong angle. Four-year olds don’t like to get dumped out of the tube. Four-year olds stand and cry when Daddy’s car keys sink to the bottom of the river. The rest of us cry when AAA has to break open the car but then can’t find Mommy’s keys in her purse in the car, and has to tow the car to a locksmith to make a new key. Daddy is especially angry with Mommy for leaving her keys at home, and having key problems in general.

At the end of the summer, the family wrote or drew a picture of the most exciting memory of the summer. Guess what was on the now five-year old’s page? Sparkling silver keys sitting at the bottom in the Virgin River. The three other kids wrote similar accounts of the adventure.

Which is exactly what family campouts are about–adventure.

So it’s June–such a gorgeous month–and you’re considering taking the family camping. Just considering, mind you. You have some great memories of family campouts and some not-so-great ones. Your memories may look something like mine:

Dirt, sunburn, mosquito bites, toddler crashing over tree roots, teenager texting every five minutes and refusing to get out of the car, eight-year old spilling a huge mug of hot cocoa all over the tent, dirt, critters outside the tent, three-year old peeing in her sleeping bag, runny eggs, dirt, rain, etc. Yes, these are some of the perils of taking the kids camping. There are too many others to name. But I just have to mention the trip when the campground toilet smelled so vile, that the five-year old cried every time she had to go “potty.” Along with the smell, she feared she would fall into the nauseating abyss.

Then there’s some positive things: crackling fires, dirt (it’s not off limits when you’re camping) roasting marshmallows, how bland food tastes better camping, the kids’ delirium over sleeping in a tent, hot chocolate in the morning, learning about insects, critters and animals, family togetherness (could go under “perils,” too), learning to make complicated desserts likes s’mores; breathing in fresh air, learning to appreciate nature’s beauty, learning, learning, learning.

Going camping is a smogasbord of earthly delights just waiting to be explored.

To get your kids excited to be outdoors, buy the book The Bear That Heard Crying. Your children will be mesmerized by this amazing story of a three-year old girl in the 1780s who becomes lost in the forest. When she is found she tells everyone that a big, back dog took care of her. Reading this book on a campout will have kids virtually entranced. It will remind them not to never wander away by themselves. It will become a family favorite.

This week, maybe just consider the possibilities of a family campout.