So this weekend, we've just done a big group camping trip - there was about a zillion families, a gazillion kids, and many hours spent chilling, chatting and swimming. But those that know us have heard of our infamous camping trips and know that The husband and I seem to have invoked the bad camping karma gods somehow - so the risk of a Bad Camping Incident is usually high. This time we were prepared. We had the tent poles - check. We knew how to put up our tent - check. There wasn't an unseasonal cold snap forecast - check.
But the problems start with a heavy workload for the Husband, and not much sleep for him during the previous week. He was a little stressed and a whole lot of tired. Which doesn't necessarily bode well for erecting a tent at 7pm on a Friday night (while surrounded by the well meaning eyes of the seasoned, pro-campers we were staying with (with their tents already up)). Still we focused, we consulted and the tent went up happily. Tent poles really do make a difference when camping.
But over dinner, the car keys I'd had stuffed into my back pocket then put on our table went missing. For 30 frantic minutes we stealthily and quietly looked for them without arousing suspicion that fractures were appearing in our camp. And when they were eventually located with the discarded chicken bones in our rubbish bag, a finger was silently pointed. At me.
And as we started the pack up at the end of a fabulous weekend, I went looking for a number on my phone, it needed charging so I plugged it in the car and told the husband. Then with one of my boys heading off for a swim in the large, deep, muddy dam, I pulled the short straw for support crewing him. Which involved pulling on wet muddy swimmers, grabbing a wet muddy towel and swimming along side him in the rain. An hour or so later we headed back to camp. Our tent was half down, so I stood in the collapsing tent shivering trying to put on my clothes without a bare (muddy) buttock being exposed through the unzipped inner.
And then I heard it - the ominous "tok, tok, tok" of an engine not turning over. I heard murmuring between two men, and then I heard the words "Lisa's has made the battery go flat on the car". I what? Well I guess I TECHNICALLY did, but I wouldn't have if I'd been the one not swimming. Indignantly, I sulked inside the tent, praying the "toks" would turn into a roar of an engine. Which eventually they did after rescuing by those friends clever enough to carry jumper leads. I whispered to a friend what had happened and then she said those magic words that saved our day and turned a potentially explosive situation into a whimper...
"Suck it up Sista".
Because sometimes you just have to.
Have you ever had to "suck it up"?