Glamp-Out

So, I don’t camp. I’m not a camper. I don’t enjoy it, never have.

For one thing- I don’t really enjoy most critters and the thought of them near me while I sleep kick-starts my anxiety and sends it into overdrive. Here’s the thing- I’d be down to find a beautiful spot by some water, throw some pebbles, hike a bit, let the kids splash around barefoot and enjoy nature and whatnot (aka go to a beach). But then I want to go home. And shower. And close my door to the critters and crawl into my bed…where I am fairly certain I’m the only one doing any “crawling”.

Don’t get me wrong- I love seeing pictures and hearing stories of people who are pretty fabulous pro-campers and sometimes I wish I could be those people instead of being my control-freak self. But here’s the thing- I can’t.

I’m getting itchy just thinking about it, so let’s move on.

Unfortunately for me, Quinlin has been “ah-sessed” with the idea of camping ever since Princess Sophia the First and her royal troop of Buttercups went off on a camping adventure to collect sparkle rocks and sleep in tents that pop into mini-castles. I wasn’t quite sure how to convince her that this {although it may possibly get even Mommy to go camping} is not reality. So I did the next best thing: I created a little glamp-out, right here in the comfort of my studio.

On Christmas morning the girls came downstairs and just about exploded. We ate real marshmallows (cooked over the fire and then carried in), read stories in the tent, had picnic lunches, and even turned on our star machine and played shadow puppets on the walls at night.

I mean, not to brag or anything, buuut we’ve been glamping on-and-off for about a month now. Yep, a full month. And guess what?

Not one spider was spotted.

Not-a-one.

But now I need my studio back for an upcoming shoot so it’s time for the campground to get rolled up and stored away until another time when we are feeling a little outdoorsy again. 😉

Am I robbing my girls of a classic childhood experience? Probably. But I’m pretty sure they’ll eventually make it out into the great outdoors for a night of real-deal “stories around a smokey fire, curl up in a sleeping bag” type thing. It’ll happen.

You know, when I make their Dad bring them.

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