TrainDad

Shortly after my last post, my wife called me at work to say she wasn’t feel­ing well. By that night, she was in the hos­pi­tal, where she would be for the next four days. Tomor­row morn­ing I’ll be tak­ing her back for another pro­ce­dure that will, hope­fully, be the begin­ning of the end of the prob­lems. If you think to say a prayer for her, I’d appre­ci­ate it!

We’ve had a dras­tic and sud­den change in plans. Yes, the cou­plers really are com­ing, but the details will be com­ing after our Really Big Camp­ing Trip.

Yep, you read it right. We are tak­ing a 3-year-old camp­ing. That might be stu-u-upid enough by itself, but wait! There’s more.

It’s Novem­ber: very, very cold.

And on a beach: 3-yr-old wan­der­ing around dan­ger­ous surf.

At a camp­ground that brags about the rat­tlesnakes and coral snakes. Oh yeah, and the hun­dreds of alli­ga­tors.

With no plan­ning, because we decided to go… today.

And — worst of all — no trains.

I am, offi­cially, an idiot.

Oh, did I men­tion that he still sleeps in a crib at home, and I’m pre­tend­ing he’ll take to a sleep­ing bag like magic?

And I don’t even have an excuse. I actu­ally did this same thing last year, and it was a hor­ren­dous deba­cle. And I do mean deba­cle — ice, rain, hurricane-force winds, freez­ing tem­per­a­tures, and no prepa­ra­tion on my part for any of those conditions.

I remem­ber the park ranger, yelling over the storm:

“So, you think you’re gonna keep a 2-year-old chitlin alive in this madness?”

(Me, with utter con­fi­dence in my mas­culin­ity): “Oh yeah. No prob­lem. We’re ready. And I brought a month’s sup­ply of firewood.”

(Me, 24 min­utes later): “Do you know where the near­est hotel is?”

“Yup, I fig­gered you’d be back, so I called to set y’all up in a room.”

(mas­sive relief): “Oh, thank you, kind sir!“

“But they ain’t got no rooms left. No sir. Said the near­est vacancy was in Dubuque. 1,158 miles north­west. Just turn left at the sign that says ‘thanks for com­ing (idiot).’ ”

I’ve pretty much erased from my mind just how bad that was. It took a year, but now I’ve started hav­ing these sweet dreams of how nice it will be to prance in the woods with my sweet lit­tle guy, search­ing for bugs and snakes, gig­gling in the warm sunshine.

Or in the ice storm, while being chased by alligators.

“Yup, near­est avail­able room is Albu­querque, 2,414 miles due west. [Under his breath…] Idiot.”