Absolutely Bananas: Seattle mom blog

The perfect Mother’s Day weekend brought to you by mother-haters everywhere

Whoever came up with this idea was either a man, a monkey, or just plain mean. Camp Orkila on beautiful Orcas island with all the other families from CJ’s school? Ok, sure, that could be fun.  But Mother’s Day weekend?  In MAY? In an OPEN-AIR CABIN that lacks WINDOWS and DOORS?

The only answer possible is that whoever organized this trip hates mothers.  

I’m lying in my bunk with my sleeping bag pulled over my head to shield against the freezing night air.  I strain my ears to listen for movement above me where CJ is sleeping; poised to leap out of bed and catch him in my arms at the slightest hint of falling.

I wonder what time it is. How much longer till morning?  It could be any time at all… I’ve lost all sense for hours and the pitch blackness makes it impossible for me to see my watch.  

From across the cabin I can hear Pete snoring.  I don’t know Pete except for his name and who his child is. Before this trip we’d said hello once or maybe twice.  

And here we are, sleeping together. 

Let me just say right now that when it comes to shared sleeping arrangements with almost-strangers, I am not a fan.

(Almost-strangers are worse than COMPLETE strangers because you will see them again.  Except next time they’ll know about the night farting.)

I didn’t realize how much I took doors for granted, I think,They really keep out a lot of nasty things.  Like COLD and bugs and raccoons and other creatures of the night.

I shift in my sleeping bag.  I’ve heard stories of midnight visits by raccoons and that’s one experience that I really, REALLY don’t want to have.

I hate this doorless cabin.

Slowly my eyelids close and I drift off to a fitful sleep. 

I’m jolted awake by the sound of CJ crying.  Jay is standing beside the bed, trying to comfort him.  

The snoring from across the cabin has stopped.  Great, everyone’s awake.

CJ is unhappy and still mostly asleep, which means he hollers and caterwauls and won’t listen to reason. Finally I hiss, “Just take him to the bathroom!” and Jay obliges with me stumbling after them.  The night air is cold and damp. I focus my flashlight beam on the trail in front of Jay’s feet.

“This is ridiculous,” Jay is muttering. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“It’s freeezing!” I moan, “I can’t SLEEP!”

Jay deposits CJ on a bench in the bathroom and peels off his wet pajamas.  I pull out the only pair of pants I could find and we try to manhandle them over his sticky legs.  CJ is crying and incoherent. I’m tempted to join him.

I look at my watch.  It’s 2:30.

“That’s IT,” Jay says, “We’re going to a hotel. I can’t take any more of this.”

We make a fast stop at the cabin on our way out to get the car keys and Jay’s wallet and head for the parking lot.  When we get to the car CJ is crying, “But I don’t WANT to leave our cabin I LIKE IT HERE Please can we go baaaaaaaaaaaaaack.”

I hold my hands in front of the heater vents and moan in pleasure as the hot air sends goosebumps of pleasure up my arms.

“We should probably call around first,” Jay says, “these small hotels might not have someone at the desk all night.”

We drive a couple of miles until I have cell phone reception and I start making calls.  After the third answering machine — “Our business hours are 8am till 9pm…” — I look at Jay and sigh. 

“I think we’re out of luck.”

Two deer saunter across the road in front of us.  Jay looks weary as he turns the car around.

We’re in the parking lot with the heater running, looking at each other.  We’ve been sitting like this for fifteen minutes. “We should get out,” I say.  ”Or… should we sleep in the car?”

Jay thinks about this and shrugs. “Maybe.  It’d be warm.”

I shake my head. “But wouldn’t we die from toxic fumes?”

Jay laughs.  ”No, that’s if you’re in a garage.  We’d be fine.”

Still I’m not convinced. We climb out of the car and start the trek back to our cabin.  CJ is delighted. 

“I’m SO glad we’re going back to our house,” he says. “I won’t cry any more I PROMISE and Hey! what’s that by that tree!?”

I have forgotten my glasses and all I can see beside the tree is more darkness.

“It’s a raccoon!” Jay says, “a big one.  And it’s standing on its back legs.  See it?”

No. I don’t see it. And I really don’t care.

I hate raccoons.  

My eyelids ache from tiredness and the cold is beginning to creep down my neck and into my very soul.

And now I have to pee.

Jay takes CJ to the cabin and I head for the bathroom with the flashlight.  I’m keeping it pointed down and just in front of me, which is how I completely miss the GIANT DEER that is standing in the trail. I would have walked directly into him but at the last possible minute he LEAPS! out of the way sending my heart directly past my stomach into my feet while adrenaline surges through my veins. 

Add stupid deer to the list of things I hate.

And then I get lost and wander through a dark and cold campground where everything is blurry and I can’t see a thing.

Finally I find our cabin and I’m so relieved that I want to kiss the door but there isn’t one so instead I climb into my sleeping bag and fall asleep to the sound of gentling snoring strangers.  Tomorrow night I’ll get to do it all over again.

Happy Freaking Mother’s Day.

***

Now stop laughing at my misery and go on over to Nickelodeon’s Parent’s Picks and vote for Absolutely Bananas as Seattle’s best local blog. Because it IS the best or at least not the worst and also because I have an embarrassing 0% of the votes and my pal Kathryn is spanking the pants off me in her evil quest for world domination and also she’s a mean and nasty gloater and must be stopped.  You can vote every single day and probably should… not for me but for THE GREATER GOOD.

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