Boy Oh Boyers

Over the weekend, Rowan and I took our first overnight camping trip. Daddy opted not to join us in the great outdoors, preferring instead to get some things done around the house and enjoy his own relaxation time (namely watching a movie, a luxury we rarely get nowadays). Our camping venue was a lovely campground in the state park near our house, and the camping party consisted of Rowan, Uncle Tim, August, and myself. We arrived Saturday afternoon and set up the tents, then took a beautiful nature trail walk. August made grilled tuna, potatoes, and corn for dinner. Rowan ate an entire ear of corn himself (a treat we paid for in diapers the next day)! Everything was new and different for Rowan: the campfire was a source of fascination, sitting in his own baby-sized canvas folding chair was a real adventure, and going to sleep in a sleeping bag was...well...

Bedtime was the biggest source of curiosity for me. I would say "concern" there, but I wasn't actually worried that Rowan wouldn't go to sleep in the tent. I just knew that I didn't want to go to bed quite so early (when there were s'mores to be made, after all!), and I knew Rowan wouldn't be inclined to stay in his sleeping bag once I left the tent. We put on his pajamas, read the goodnight book, and then I zipped him in the sleeping bag and left the tent, zipping the door on my way out. I heard Rowan get up, walk over to the tent door, reach into his box of books, get out a few things, and then sit down. He didn't make any noise after that (at least not that I noticed), and I figured chances were he fell asleep right on the tent floor next to the door. When I went back in to check on him a little while later, I was amused and impressed to find that Rowan had crawled into the hood of my sleeping bag, curled up with his butt and legs nice and warm, and gone to sleep on his stomach. I would have taken his picture, but the moonlight wasn't bright enough and I didn't have the heart to subject him to the camera flash when he was so soundly asleep. Needless to say, later when I needed to get in my sleeping bag Rowan was none too happy to be moved from his toasty warm nest. He went back to sleep quickly, though, and except for a crying interlude in the middle of the night when we had to change a wet diaper that had soaked his pajamas, he rested peacefully until the blissfully near-sunrise time of 6:15am. :-)

For those of you who are wondering how I found a sleeping bag in Rowan's size, I'd like to proudly report a sleeping bag sizing trick that worked perfectly: I bought a regular youth-size sleeping bag (well, it's called that, but at 68" long it's plenty big for me to sleep in!), but of course during the night Rowan would have scooted down deep into the bag, potentially not a safe place for him to be. To prevent that, I tied a short rope around the sleeping bag, like you'd wrap a pigtail in hair. That cinched off the bag to make it just the right length for Rowan, and amazingly all through the night he stayed in the perfect position: on his back, head comfortably surrounded by the warm sleeping bag hood.

I know what position he slept in because, unlike Rowan, I didn't do much sleeping at all. This was due in part to how much I enjoy the sounds of the outdoors: I laid in the tent and just listened. It was also due to the fact that I couldn't quite get comfortable in my sleeping bag (big shocker there), not to mention that I almost never sleep in the same room as Rowan and he does lots of little squeaks, twitches, snores, and groans while he's snoozing. Still, as we were lying there in the tent side by side, a little moonlight was filtering through the tent so I could see the outline of Rowan's pale face against his cocoon-like sleeping bag. I could see his chest rise and fall, and hear the air moving with each of his breaths. I was amazed at how he had trusted me to take him into this strange, new experience without a moment of hesitation or fear. I was also shocked at the feeling of lying there next to my child, not my baby, in a tent in the forest. Rowan knows what a campfire is now, and he can show you how to step into the tent without falling on the threshold. His awareness and understanding is growing so quickly. In that moment, clad in sleeping bags with the cool air on our faces, I felt more connected than ever to Rowan as he has been, as he is, and how I imagine he will be. I replayed glimpses of when he was a newborn, nursing in the rocking chair in the middle of the night. I imagined what he will be like a few years from now, even more independent and inquisitive. Most of all, though, I felt the now-familiar feeling I've expressed before: that moment was utterly precious, and we didn't miss it. We lived it. I was thankful.