It is Wednesday night…
and I'm trying to convince myself that sitting on the couch and eating handfuls of chocolate is not a good idea.
Especially since my glucose test is tomorrow.
There are few things in this world that are worse than the three hour glucose test after you fail the one hour… so I've decided to blog about a camping trip we took almost two weeks ago instead.
And by camping "trip" I mean we were there for 16 hours.
Half of which was spent trying to sleep.
In this tent:
With my farmer and these two:
And a big ol' pregnant belly full of these:
it is safe to say that it was probably one of the worst nights of sleep I have ever had.
You may have noticed that the tent was on gravel.
We were forced to move it there after we set it up on the nice cozy grass.
Park rules are no joke I guess.
We spent our evening out on the water.
We also roasted a whole lot of marshmallows.
And he ate exactly zero of them.
His poor Papa ate almost all of them for him.
There is something about a fresh smores when you are camping.
Am I right?
So yummy… or maybe that's just the crazy pre-glucose-test talk coming out in me.
After our night of "sleep" we were definitely the first campers awake.
We were also to only campers to start a fire.
Probably because the temperature would be increasing significantly from then until about 90 degrees.
BUT Brody had to roast a few more marshmallows before the trip was over.
Meanwhile Beckam drank his morning coffee.
We all made toast on the fire pit, ate some breakfast, and tore down the tent that took us 45 minutes to put up mere hours before.
And then… it was time to leave so my farmer could cut some hay.
This pretty much sums up how we each felt about going home.