Camping Trip

It was so much fun taking Kavella on her first camping trip! Grandpa packed all his gear, Grandma prepared all the food and then we set off to the campsite! Even though it had been raining for days leading up to our scheduled departure, the skies seemed to clear enough to give us confidence in a rain-free trip. As soon as we arrived, everyone busied themselves with various tasks, such as:

gathering sticks for the fire....

building the fire.....


setting up the tents....

and roasting us some K-baby!

Three generations. I love Mom! One word to describe her: perfect.

Ha, ha, as I perused through my photos, I noticed that I didn't snap any shots of Jenn while camping.....so, I summarily decided to add this random photo to the camping ones. Done.

I love my Pops! He is so much fun!

Scott busied himself with riding on his Tryke! This bike is worth more than my truck, quite literally, but it proves a tool of enjoyment AND physical therapy! It is strong enough to carry standing passengers on the back, which helps Scott strengthen his legs! Plus, it has a large waist belt, which helps him sit straight up and not fall out. I love Scott.

S'mores were the perfect ending to our evening.

When we got back home, we told Kavella she had to start cleaning up. She did.
As a matter of personal scrapbooking, I've included Mom's account of our camping adventure at the bottom. That way, I can include it in our family book when the time comes!


On a different day, we prepared ourselves to go to a splash pad in Broken Arrow. Much to our chagrin, we found it to be dry as a bone. Instead, we found ourselves playing at a nearby park.

My Dr. Pepper is just sitting there all lonely-like....."I'll just wait right here until you're done....no rush...oh, oh, am I in the picture? You said 'smile'? No? Oh, sorry, I'll just wait here and look at this anchor thing till you're done...."

Bryce joined us after he got out of hike skool--Kavella was delighted to swing with him!

This is Mom trying to fit herself within the photo's borders as well as in front of my hat.
Colleen, well, she just squished that silly hat right out of the way!

You might have thought, what with Ellie in her swimsuit and all, that we actually ventured into the pool this day. We didn't. Ellie just wanted to show off her cute suit! Good idea, girl!

The Bible Belt at it's best.

Here's my Mom's writings regarding our camping trip:

"It seemed like a good idea while it lasted – at least, that is, for as long as any good idea lasts with a 15-month old. By Friday evening, the drenching rains had passed, dropping deadly tornadoes in Arkansas, but leaving us with cooler air, calmer winds, and partly-cloudy skies – though the dampness of the humid, soupy air had not yet been swept away. It didn’t take long for a crew like ours to set up the tents and outfit our campground near the shores of the Verdigris River that evening, and as the hamburgers and hot dogs sizzled on the grill, Kavella and I took a stroll to the camp swing-set and slide. Kelly was debating about the actualities of sheltering the night in a tent with Kavella, thereby providing Kavella with her first full-fledged camping experience; I, for one, knew – given the prevailing weather conditions and predictions (for morning rain), not to mention the degree to which I would receive a sound sleep and/or become inflicted with chigger and tick bites – that the “good idea” for me would last until about 10:30 or 11:00 p.m. that night around the campfire! And that is exactly when I took the fifteen-minute drive home to my comfortable bed. In the meantime, Kavella, who possesses an unbounded supply of energy, inquisitiveness, and determination, never once slackened her pace – which is something between a walk and a run – except to splash in some algae-filled puddles on the road with her little black rain boots. Scott and Bryce accompanied us on the fringes as Scott powered his AmTryke down the paved road that wound throughout the campsite. Everyone else, (including Jennifer, Brian, Dalin, Ellie, Rick, Kelly, and Colleen), was involved in some phase of the dinner preparation and camp set-up. The dogs – yes – I said dogs, were tethered on leashes – Annie on a long leash and Colleen’s new puppy, Bandit, on a short one. Annie lay comfortably under the awning near our concrete picnic table – except when arising to investigate some activity or event of canine interest – at which point in her wanderings, she sometimes inadvertently wrapped her long rope leash around Bandit, which nearly decapitated the poor little dog at one point and always managed to pin or entangle him in panic-stricken predicaments to which Annie was completely oblivious. Bandit is a Pomimo: a mix between a Pomeranian and mini-Eskimo (or Husky) – tiny and adorable. It is unfortunate, however, that even the poo and pee of tiny and adorable dogs is as offensive and messy (albeit on a smaller scale) as that of large and mangy dogs. Bandit is not quite potty-trained and the Odoban has been utilized liberally this week.

Prospects looked encouraging, if not downright promising, as we gathered around the blazing fire pit to relax and listen to a little personal history from the pages of our early married life. Kelly had soothed Kavella into a deep sleep with a warm bottle, some cozy blankets, and the sounds of “ocean breezes white noise” as it gently wafted from Kelly’s iPod. Kavella was surely as snug as a bug in a rug in a tent! It appeared as if nothing could spoil a perfect first campout for her. Rick retold the famous “Ernst Home Center story,” which, if you haven’t heard, took place when Jennifer was about a year old and I was 8 months pregnant with Ricky. Rick had shared the account with our live-in missionaries recently and was surprised to learn (via comments from Shane and Bryce) that some of our children were entirely ignorant of the event – most of them not having been born at the time it occurred – combined with the fact that it had become one of those memorable tidbits of experience which simply became quite forgotten as it dissolved into the melting pot of days, weeks, months, and years gone by. I cannot here share the tale, but if you haven’t heard it, there’s no better setting than when all of nature and humanity is quieted and wrapped under the vault of a starry night around the flying embers and sparks of a campfire – well, maybe not ALL of humanity. There’s no telling what kind of commotion the stout, forty-something-year-old woman who came bolting barefoot out of the communal bathroom, followed by a much younger twenty-something man earlier that evening might be causing. The woman’s hair was pulled back into a pony tail and she walked with the gait of one who was displaying purposeful and full-blown anger – a woman scorned, if you will – quite exaggerated in her movements and not once looking back or slackening her pace for the man who called and ran after her. Her clothes were wadded up underneath her arm and she just happened to drop a bikini bottom on the greenbelt about a hundred yards from the parking area (in which I stood) while continuing to walk away down the road. The barefooted man, dressed in a white t-shirt and red shorts sprinted after her, where they appeared to engage in a romantic tiff – a lover’s quarrel of some sort. Presently, a large grey-haired pony-tailed barefoot woman emerged from the bathroom. She was dressed in a bright pink moo-moo. She entered the only parked vehicle in the lot – an older model pickup truck – shooed her yellow lab into the bed of the truck, and prepared to drive away. Apparently, the former woman thought better of trudging all the way back home by foot and made quick work of walking to the pickup and climbing into the front seat. The young man immediately hopped into the bed of the truck with the dog and teasingly peered in through back window while making hand and face gesticulations to the woman with whom he had had the altercation. I’m quite certain that there are a few people who live year-round by the river’s edge – happily collecting the grime of the campground on the soles of their feet, noodling for their supper, and living a somewhat carefree Bohemian lifestyle while changing between the only two outfits to which they claim ownership – a swimsuit and a pair of shorts with t-shirt. Of necessity, Kelly was using the facilities in the communal bathroom as the lover’s quarrel unfolded, and though she was sure I would “flip-out” with the news of that pink moo-mooed patron walking barefoot on the environmental hazard that was that bathroom floor, I assured her that nothing surprises me anymore, least of all individuals who choose to live their lives in a virtual pigsty. In truth, I’m not sure which option might have proven more revolting; the sight of those women shuffling barefoot around that rasty-nasty bathroom or the sight of them casting a fishing line at the river’s edge clad only in their bikinis.

Having excused myself somewhere between 10:30 and 11:00 p.m. for the short drive home, I wasn’t privy to the sight of Kelly making a mad dash in the midnight hour from her tent to the last place on earth she wanted to step foot again: the communal bathroom. Ironic – since it sounds as if she might have broken the Olympic record for the 400 meter dash to get there – sprinting through the darkness, tripping on something in the grassy field adjacent the bathroom, rolling through the trip with a forward somersault, springing to her feet and continuing on in the lightening-fast charge without missing a beat. While Kelly summarily obtained relief from Montezuma’s revenge and the dire cramps which gripped her, Jennifer arrived and sauntered into the facility; neither of them aware of the identity of their “next-door” stall neighbor. Jennifer used the facilities, traipsed out, climbed into her Honda Odyssey (in which she and Brian had positioned a blow-up mattress for their bed and where Brian still lay slumbering) and drove back to the campsite, expecting the automatic bathroom water faucet to function properly by shutting off on its own. Kelly’s agonizing ordeal finally came to an end and she exited the bathroom for the much more leisurely walk back, having noticed that the water Jennifer had turned on was still running.

Little did Kelly realize: her camping ordeal had only just begun. No sooner was she situated comfortably inside her tent with Kavella, Colleen, and Bandit, than the Pomimo pranced directly across Kavella’s face in order to snuggle with Kelly. It was 2:00 a.m. A yelp of amusement and gleeful giggles escaped Kavella’s lips and the struggle royale was underway – between a toddler who wanted nothing more than to play and be entertained and a mother who was bent on having her child return to bed and the peaceful slumber which had so recently and tantalizingly been in her grasp. Kavella was not to be deterred. Kelly’s resolve, however, was even greater. Verbal prompts, a pacifier, and the back-breaking task of rocking her to-and-fro within the confines of the tent yielded some success for the first hour-and-a-half; but soon thereafter, negotiations at a peaceful resolve broke down entirely. Kavella used that decidedly superior weapon which virtually trumps all others and for which there is little defense: her voice. Have you ever had a screaming baby in a slumbering campground – one who refuses to be soothed or lulled to sleep – at 3:30 in the morning? It’s almost as bad as finding yourself trapped on an airline flight in the same set of circumstances. More rocking on Kelly’s part and more furious pacifier sucking and chewing on Kavella’s part ensued. By 4:00 a.m., the frequent eruptions of crying became less occasional, until – miracle of miracles! – Kavella’s eyes began to roll upward and her lids began to close. At that critical moment – Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip!! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip!! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip!! – Dalin had appeared at the tent door, unzipped it all three ways, and (by order of Rick) inquired, “Grandpa wants to know if this would help?” Kelly, at the point of total exhaustion, couldn’t recall (while giving an account of her sleep-deprived night) exactly what Dalin had deposited within the confines of the tent that was supposed to “help” – only that it took another forty minutes to bring Kavella, once more, to the brink of conscious suspension in the land of Nod; no small feat given the buzz-saw that was Rick’s snoring, Ellie’s articulate nocturnal announcement that she was cold – to which Dalin sweetly instructed, “it’s not time to get up yet Ellie,” and then helped her to lay back down while tucking warm blankets all around, and Kavella’s sharp ears and curious mind which picked up every miniscule peep and noise throughout the camp and from within every tent! Finally at 4:40 a.m. another crucial moment arrived, not to mention another opportunity lost – as Rick’s questioning tones suddenly carried magnificently across the campsite in the cool morning air: “Do you know how to unhitch the trailer Dalin?” – To which Dalin industriously unzipped his own tent door and dutifully began to labor. Morning had apparently arrived and, much to Kelly’s dismay, Kavella had successfully battled through the night, vanquishing with resounding victory that dreaded childhood adversary known as sleep!

I, myself, was not entirely asleep when I heard the soft knock at my front door at 5:00 a.m. I lay perfectly comfortable and alone in the covers of my king-sized bed – not wanting to move – but rather, desiring overwhelmingly to drift into the arms of Morpheus once again. Yet I had heard a knock; it clearly hadn’t been a dream. And so, my mind immediately attached itself to the most plausible idea requiring no effort on my part: it must have been one of the missionaries knocking on the upstairs bathroom door. I half-fell haphazardly out of bed to check my alarm clock which would surely serve to validate my theory. “Darn!” I thought, “It’s only 5:00 a.m.! The missionaries wouldn’t be up this early; they don’t have to get up until 6:30. There must be someone at the front door!” The realization coincided perfectly with what became a flurry of expeditious and rapid pounding in the entryway – obviously at the hands of more than one person striking at the front door! Kelly, no doubt, surmised that one soft knock was not going to “cut it” and Jennifer lent the sustenance of her heavy hand to that conclusion. I quickly rose from my bed upon hearing the strains of their familiar voices and opened the door. Kelly, Kavella, Jennifer, and Brian all tumbled into the house and made no pretense of the fact that they intended to “crash” in various rooms until 9:00 or 10:00 that morning. Brian took the trouble of hauling in (what looked like) a king-sized double-layer air mattress – though I think it must’ve really only been queen- or full-sized – while Jennifer dropped down on the pre-inflated air bed Bryce has been using all week during Colleen and Kelly’s stay and which has been conveniently stored in the family room. Both of them remained obtrusively clad in their red and blue flannel pajamas as they drove back to the campsite later that morning. I missed out on the delicious breakfast of golden Dutch-oven biscuits with sausage and gravy that Colleen cooked up for the lucky participants who had either remained or returned to the campground – just as Colleen missed out on the commotion of our camp’s nocturnal adventures; for she had been entirely ignorant of and oblivious to the dreadful night’s sleep which Kelly, Kavella, Jennifer, and Brian had experienced. Indeed, Colleen slept like a log all the night long – even with Kavella wailing inside the very same tent! The family campers ultimately and faithfully endured the inconvenience of a passing morning thundershower; after which, Rick enlisted them to break camp and return home by noon. As far as has been determined, the water in the campground bathroom is still running."