I have said it before and I’ll say it again, raising boys is not for the faint of heart. They build tunnels under fences, scale walls for no apparent reason and are known to jump off structures with nothing more than a grocery sack for a parachute.
One has to have nerves of steel to watch them play, the patience of a saint for long car rides and I must say that cleaning out the pockets of their jeans before laundering takes a strong stomach as well as an ironclad demeanor.
I have played all-time quarterback with our sons on the front lawn, put my shaking hand in an oversized catcher’s mitt so they could practice pitching and thought I was a pretty good basketball player until the day they were choosing up teams and no one picked me.
One thing is for sure, boys force you to get in touch with your outdoorsy side, as the great outdoors is the only way to enjoy them in peace.
I love camping, don’t get me wrong. Yet there is nothing that can prepare you for the amount of food they can put away on outdoor excursions. Growing boys with large appetites are fine when one has access to a fully stocked pantry and, if need be, a super center.
But load up a big group and take them out to the wilderness? Well, that right there is a horse of a different color.
Take last year’s camping excursion as an example. Before my good friend, Julie, and I took my son Charlie and seven of his buddies on an excursion that included tubing down a river, we told them well in advance to stock up.
We instructed them to bring snacks, meal bars and enough protein to get them through the day.
We would have offered to pay for that part of the trip ourselves, you understand, but we have kids in college and there is always our retirement to consider.
Before we got into the river, we loaded the food and several coolers about the size of a barge onto the boys’ tubes and then sent them on ahead so we could float behind, on our own tubes, in peace.
We had four legs to our trip and embarked upon it at or around 10:30 a.m. Julie and I had the cutest little cooler stocked with grapes, cheese sticks and a lovely little supply of turkey. Wanting to pace ourselves, we had a snack or two and saved the rest for a scrumptious lunch that we planned to enjoy at our first port of call.
We greeted the boys with love and happiness when we caught up to them.
“Ahoy mateys!” we called out as we landed. “This is great! What a day!” and “Who’s ready to grab some grub?”
It wasn’t until Julie and I picked up our very own still fully stocked cooler that we realized the boys were all staring at us like a pack of hungry wolves. They had desperation in their eyes along with a touch of despair.
“We don’t have any food left,” one of them said as his eyes shifted to our cooler.
“But you had sandwiches, chips and enough nourishment to feed a football team and still have enough left over to feed the multitudes!” I said as I stepped defensively in front of our own stash.
“Yeah,” Charlie replied, “we kind of ate it all.”
Upon hearing this announcement, Julie jumped back onto her tube, I pulled us back into the stream and like a couple of desperate women keyed on self-preservation, we started paddling with our hands to hasten our escape.
We did share a cheese stick or two with those kids later in the day. We tossed a bag of grapes at them when they got too close and gave them the rest of the turkey when they thought they could no longer survive.
This year as we prepare to take the trip again, we are going to make them double their nutritional inventory and forewarn them that it is going to be every man for himself. Think me cruel if you must. But that’s what they get for not picking me for their basketball team.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her by sending an email to [email protected].