Raisin’ Hays While The Rain Pours

A couple of weeks ago, our family set out on our annual festival/camping trip. Plastic drawers were released from their duties in the house, stuffed with kid clothing and packed into the tent trailer, white T shirts were stashed into our luggage in hopes of being streaked with beautifully coloured dyes, and I eagerly packed my basket with books and journals to enjoy while resting on the beach. Ahhh the beach…scantily clad in the sunshine while the kids play happily, with minimal arguing….oh the epiphanies I’ll have…the inspiration that will seep into my soul….Except that it rained. It rained for four days. It rained so hard the slugs came to visit.It rained so hard that any shred of excitement and optimism I felt, wooshed away with the raindrops, trickling from the tarps Griz strung so neatly from the branches. I turned into grumpy mommy, the woman I had tried to leave at home. It didn’t matter how hard Papa Bear tried, no amount of tarp stringing or yummy meal making broke the spell of grumpy that had been cast over me. There was just something about the combination of sand in my bed, dampened by the moist air that just didn’t help.

So to keep the kids from arguing…We played go fishand caught tiny toads…I believe Wildflower caught…72?

And on the fifth day, the sun came out, juuust in time for us to wash up, pack up, and head home.

There’s a funny thing that I learned from the camping trip from hell. All of the much needed inspiration didn’t come while it was pouring so loudly we couldn’t hear each other speak. It didn’t come when we walked to the soggy beach to be bitten by the bugs on the way. It didn’t even come when we began to pack up under the bright sun. The epiphanies came to me after we had been home for a night, with time to talk and clear my mind, time spent just with my partner in crime. The two days we spent at home after our trip felt more like holidays than the entire trip. It took looking at myself, deeply, in an uncomfortable situation, to learn the answers to some of the heavier things on my mind. Ahhhh sometimes things just don’t go as planned.

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About hay mama

an artiste (pronounced with an ‘eeste’) tackling a multitude of works, mother raising three kiddos, lover of books, seeker of knowledge, consumer of great coffee, follower of nature, lover and friend to my one and only…

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