I’mmm baa-ack!

Well…. Kinda.

I’m back from another successful swim in the redneck gene pool.  Yes folks, I survived it! All without loosing too many brain cells to the pack and I had a wonderful time in the process.  But since the day I came home its been non stop laundry, dishes, housework, kid chasing , etc.  Just trying to get caught up again. You all know the drill.  So that’s where I’ve been hiding.  Instead of finding me lounging on my wonderful chair with a beer in my hand I’m buried under a mountain of laundry that smells like that sweaty beer.  For every ying there is a yang I’m afraid.  And for every great Mommy’s Joy post, even the shortest like this one, there must also be an end.  And also because my laundry pile is starting to throw dirty underwear at me…  Oh wait! That’s my daughter buried under there!  I was wondering where she went….  So for now my loyal readers, and not so loyal but new eyes that stopped in to peep, adios!  I shall return soon with more tails from the unusually vertical family tree.

Oh! And here’s a picture of EJ at her finest while camping.  She walked around like that for almost 20 minutes making fish lips at everyone and posing for cameras.  I kept looking for the LSD she was hiding because seriously!!  Those goggles make me see iridescent hot pink stars every time I look out of the them and its just about the trippiest thing you could imagine.

Smiles!

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You know when you go camping anywhere in America each camp ground has it’s own set of rules that they hold dear. And as a good little camper and a good American you want to respect and follow those rules.  Even Camp Ben has a few Rules that are VERY important for the health, safety and fun of all the campers.

Here we go.  The top 10 rules you must follow when attending Camp Ben*.

10.  Make sure you place the really toxic gallon jug of pre-mixed but not iced (therefore not watered down slightly) purple hooters on the top of your cooler before you go to bed.  That way when your neighboring teenager, aka. beer thief, sneaks in they will think they hit the mother load. And then the mother load will hit them about 30 minutes later.

9. Always be armed with weapons against dive bombing June bugs.  I have found a nice solid paper plate works well for swatting at those little bastards. However, in recent years we have also invested in a handheld device that fries bugs on contact.  Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle. Oh, yaaaa!

8. Walking to your neighbors camp is just not done. The proper way to approach another camp site is by piling into the back of a truck with coolers and lawn chairs. Much better than dragging them over that long 50 yards.  And be sure to hang on tight… see Rule number 7.

7.  When driving a truck load of drunken idiots to the next camp site for visitin’ be sure to slam on your breaks a few time yelling “squirrel” or “coon”.   Also, you get bonus points for going air born over any speed bumps that might cross your path.

6. When visitin’ another camp site always make sure you bring an extra beer to share so as to not seem selfish. Selfish people wake up naked duct taped to lawn chairs in the middle of the camp grounds.

5.  Watch out for drunken red-neck golf cart jockeys.

4.  If you do something entirely too offensive in the shared camp port-o-pot be sure to follow your friend to the potty and block the door from them making a quick exit.  Makes for a nice story later.

3.  And be sure to pick a victim every year for a port-o-rockin’ !!! Possibly the same person who you tortured in Rule number 4.

2.  When filling water balloons for the big water balloon fight it is every Camp Ben-ners sworn duty to rocket launch a few over the fence at the snots from the banquet hall. Cuz they’re snots. (If anyone “official” just read this please disregard. We would never really do something like this…… except accidentally when our launchers misbehave and force us to shoot in that general direction…..)

1.  And the number 1 rule to follow, (And this is personally my favorite rule that I give you out of the kindness of my heart) do not wear black thong underwear under light khaki shorts in a water fight. This one is a very bad idea unless you would like to forever carry the nick name “Thong Girl” and have it hollered out to you loudly every time you ride up in the back of a truck for visitin’.  However, if you do gain the honor of this nick name know that you can also by-pass rule number 6, cuz there will always be a beer waiting for “Thong Girl”.

*I never said they weren’t bubba’s rules.

**Originally published last year but I’m too busy gettin’ ready to come up with anything new……

But there is nothing worse then walking up to your yellow can and finding out that some strangers butt has fowled your port-o-pot.  Just because its sitting on property that someone might accidently walk by doesn’t mean its up for public usage people!  Therefore, I’ve created a sign to post on it.  Sadly, I doubt it will be seen at night by any drunken rednecks who only see a giant yellow box of bladder freedom but at least I can make an attempt.  However, anyone who ignores the sign during the daylight hours might have a surprise coming to them.  We’re watching you….We can seeeeeee you…. And that means we probably know where you’re caaaamping…. And therefore sleeeeping….  And you have to sleep sometime don’t you.  And my daughter is still pooping in her diapers…. Need I elaborate further????

You’ve had fair warning.

That is all.

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Here’s a little something I wrote last year in anticipation of the big event coming up…

“Let’s talk about a little thing called camping ya’ll!  And were not talking about going out to the woods, pitching a tent, daring the elements to get you type of camping.  We are talking about pitching the pop up camper, making sure it has a great power supply for the AC unit. Figuring out how to stock the camp refrigerator and not blow said power supply with the load. And lets not forget about the indoor/outdoor carpet that covers the rocky grassy ground where we will also pitch our canopies to block out as much sun as possible. Under that canopy is where we will set up our multitude of box fans and misters so we stay nice and cool while sitting out in the 100 degree Texas heat enjoying “nature”. That “nature” by the way isn’t of the cute little bambi next to the bubbling stream version but the shirtless, beer guzzling, possibly hairy and definitely sweaty, two legged, upright walking (most of the time) fellow camper. They are always filled with great conversation and wonderful stories that are shared with you as they visit your campsite or you drift over to theirs.

Yep, camping-lite is what we like to call it over Camp Ben.  Are you seeing the images now? Camp Ben is an old Confederate camp ground (And don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not about discrimination and white supremacy and all that nasty crap.  It’s about family and don’t forget the beer!) where each year 1000′s of “family” members gather (Cuz many are related to each other in too many strange ways) for the reunion. This year marks the 113th year (now 114th!) for this event.  I’m sure way back 100 years ago it was a place of memory and celebration of the lives of those who served for the Confederacy in the Civil War, but now it’s just and excuse to get together, do things that are regarded and graded by bubba’s red-neck scale of approval.  OH, and drink… BEER!

Camp Ben is what I usually describe to people as a week long drunk fest. Although, as we have aged it’s quickly becoming a week long challenge to see how we can bring our living rooms and kitchens to the great outdoors.  Instead of waking up to breakfast of beer and shots of what ever hairy dog we drank the night before it’s now grilling up sausage and bacon for a great big “cowboy” breakfast. (See further down about torturing teenagers) And then right after that we start in on bar-b-q’ing dinner.  Lunch is still usually beer.  Sorry, can’t drift too far from tradition.  Nope, now we are saving the hard core partying to the younger generation out there, just like we were once.  But that doesn’t mean it’s not fun anymore.  Now we get to do all the things that we wished we could do when we were younger, just with more respect. We don’t have to tell anyone where we are going and with who. We don’t have to beg anyone for money to spend at the carnival. And, here’s the whopper, now we can walk right up to a sheriffs deputy and give him a nice big drunk kiss and tell him you love him WITHOUT him making you dump out your beer.  Love that one!

Back then, being a hell raising teenager, did have it’s advantages, however. When you were crazy drunk enough to go cop kissing you usually weren’t arrested but were taken back to camp. But wait! I’m sure all you parents out there are thinking the kid would get it then. But nope, punishment wasn’t handed down like that since usually the camp you told the cop you “belonged” to wasn’t yours but a friend of your parents. Who would in turn lie through their teeth for you and tell the cop that “Yep, she belongs to me.  Get over here you pain in the ass. Your momma’s gonna skin you alive when she gets back…” (Love you Morris!) Then they just make you wash their truck or pick up trash the next day or something equaling embarrassing for pay back for” lyin’ to the law”.

Yep, those were the days. Day’s I know that my daughter will enjoy too. As a parent I’m not really as open minded to the drinking and carrying on thing as you may be thinking right now but out there, at Camp Ben, it’s still a different way of life.  Slower, safer. Where real lessons are learned from those night binges as your “parents” (or who ever took care of you the night before) cooks up those huge “cowboy” breakfasts and you have to sit and gobble up every bite on your plate which is complete torture to the hungover teenager.  I think we would all starve out there if it wasn’t for having to cook for those rotten kids to teach them a lesson. Instead of grounding, taking away TV or driving privileges, punishments are handed down in much simpler, and in the eyes of the hungover teenager, harsher way as they puke their guts out behind the camper, praying that they aren’t standing on a thistle bush or in poison ivy.

By now you are wondering why I’m telling you all this. Well, because I’m a Camp Ben’er.  and today marks the Monday before we go to camp on Friday. Today is the day where I pull my pop up camper into my nice suburban drive way and start re-adjusting my red-neck hat on my head. Cuz by Friday I want it to fit and stay put for the full week I’m “roughing it”.  If you feel like dropping by for a beer and a story then come on over and “set a spell”. Just don’t get drunk and pass out in my camp. You might end up up duct taped to the flag poll.”

I’m the kind of girl who needs a little mud in her life.  That’s why I love “my current husband” so much.  He brings me mud with a side of bagels.  Rough around the collar with a hint of yuppy.   He doesn’t care if once a year I decide that the coolest thing on earth would be to jump on the hood of a truck and go whooping and a hollerin’ all the way to the creek.  Not really worrying about my safety. Only praying I don’t spill my beer or that the driver of the truck doesn’t decide to “see” a ‘coon and do a break stand…thus forcing me to spill my beer.  He doesn’t mind if once a year I decide that sticking a Budweiser bottle sticker to my daughters sippy is the coolest idea on earth.  And once a year he doesn’t mind all the other elaborate things I do to make myself and our family just a little bit more “dirt in the skirt”.  Basically, we are weekend rednecks. I guess that would be the better way to put it.  And coming up, one week from now, is the time that all of us weekend rednecks, and many who think baths should only be taken on Sunday before church (unless jumping in the creek counts), come out of the woodworks.   In one week we will be heading to Camp Ben.  We will be gathering with our American and confederate flag swimwear, our koozies that proudly state things like “Your village called. Their idiot is missing.”  And we will prepare to spend the week rehashing old stories about years of camping gone past.  Stories about losing our dignity along with our shirts, shorts, and many cherries is just one of the things we celebrate each year.

We are Camp Ben’ers!  Where we bring everything we need to survive in the Texas heat for a week and cap it off with ways to keep our beer cold and our briskets colder till its time to cook em’.  In our case we even have carpet for our camp site. But that’s only because after a hard night playing dominos, and drinking something “homemade” out of our buddies unmarked very old and odd looking bottle that probably should be illegal, its nice to waddle out of your tents or campers onto indoor outdoor carpet having the opportunity to avoid stubbing our unpolished toes on the rocks.  Camp Ben is where, instead of bringing a touch of redneck into our yuppy lifestyles, we bring a touch of class to the average redneck by having a refrigerator standing proudly in the middle of camp ready to keep our beer cold.

We are Camp Ben’ers!  And we are about to converge!  Bring on the bubba!!!!

That is all.

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After the first night of feeding her sitting on my lap (because she just wasn’t going to sit anywhere unless trapped in her seat) we devised a nice camp feeding station.  Take two small tables, one for eating on and one to place behind her chair so she couldn’t push back and topple over.  (Learned that the hard way.) Apply same table covers used at restaurants to camp table, and hold corners down with duct tape. (Because I may be a little redneck but I spent way too many years in the restaurant industry. And I know how clean those tables really are. Yuck.) And voila! One happily fed bar-be-que loving baby!

What’s better then a little mac and cheese and watermelon?  And yes, we used the hose to spray her off after lunch… and she loved it!

“Honey, get your foot off the table. And that goes for both of you!”

“OK, now your just being sassy.”

Step 1: Take one kitty litter box (never used BTW).

Step 2: Add water.

Step 3: Add random toys including wooden spoons.

Step 4: Add baby.

Warning:  Be ware of swollen diapers!!!  Will make the baby walk funny!!!

Baby got back!!!

Yes, I had to take a before and after photo of the diapers cuz that’s the kind of sick twisted mind I have. On the right we have a normal wet diaper changed right before depositing the baby in the pool. On the left is a diaper that soaked up half the water in the same pool.  I now see the reason for swim diapers cuz YIKES!!!  But I must say this, Target has some wonderfully, absorbent diapers!!

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1. To protect the camper from unwanted odors cut up extra large lawn trash bag and place between baby and the mattress.  Just like the rotting grass smell that can’t crawl through those industrial sized trash bags, neither can baby stank.

2.  To protect the precious sleeping patterns of our daughter, and our sanity, cut, duct tape, and zip tie cardboard boxes to side windows. Then place large dark sheet over the entire end of the camper.  (After seeing my invention, hubby put in a request for me to doctor up our own end of the camper.  So I found a few more boxes and went to town on our side.   Voila! We all slept like redneck babies.)

3.  To protect the most important thing of all, our little redneck I bought an extra long, extra tall bed rail.  It was tall enough that EJ couldn’t hook her leg over it.  To accommodate for the extra space hubby built an extra length of “bed rail” out of ply wood.  Then I came along and padded it with rolled up paper towels and duct tape. (White duct tape because we are stylin’ rednecks…and it was cheaper than the silver stuff.)  And with one more application of the tape, looping it to the real bed rail, we had ourselves a baby cage.  I’m mean crib.

EJ really loved the accommodations. The camper mattress is a lot squishier then her crib’s and she found she loved to fall face first onto it.  She also loved to stand up board stiff and let us just push her over backwards.  She’s the only being on earth that doesn’t fear falling backwards like that.  I’d FREAK!  She would just giggle and giggle.  Many times after I would put her to bed she would stay awake for a while standing up and falling over.  I would sit outside and watch that end of the camper bounce up and down and I would hear these huge “thunk” sounds.  Then giggles.  I guess I should just go ahead and call her my redneck daredevil. Can’t wait till next year.  *rolling eyes* I might have to incorporate duct taping her INTO the cage/crib to keep her in one piece.

Wait…

That’s what I’m going to show you…

A computerized slide show of my vacation….

Hmmm…

Oh, well! Deal with it!  Oooh, and aww! And make me feel like I went to Paris and not just some ole’ dusty campground. K? Thanks!

I’ll start you off slow:

This is my campsite. We set it up the same way year after year so we have it down to a fine art. Please notice the full sized refrigerator and air conditioned trailers. Also note the the fully carpeted area for us to walk on and the electric lights (Christmas rope lights). No sitting around the campfire for us. Nope we site around fans and misters to keep us cool. The only fires here are the ones cooking our bar-b-que or the ones created in the campers at night…. Oh wait! That only happens when you DON’T have a one year old in the camper with you.  We’re redneck folks but not THAT redneck.

Stay tuned tomorrow for insight in to how we entertain ourselves for one solid week while staying in this wonderful campsite we created.