backyard camping

Friday night we "camped" in the backyard. It's the only way to camp when you're nine months pregnant and have a one year old.

We went into the night with hopeful (though very low) expectations. Ivar was wired. He kicked his legs around like a donkey, diving into the sleeping bags and thermarests while yelling, "Mama! Daddo!" He laughed and screamed and in time, four of our neighbors had come over to see what kind of party we had going on in our backyard.

At 10:30 he still hadn't really settled down. We read our books, and he dove over our bellies laughing and saying our names as if to say, "Mama Daddo! What on earth are we doing? I am delirious tired and you still haven't put me to bed and we're all together and I love it!"

A bit before 11:00 Rory and I pretended to be asleep and Ivar lay between us. And then I felt a tiny finger go up my nose and heard Ivar say, "hello, nose."

We laughed so hard. And Ivar started kicking his legs again, force laughing and yelling, "Mama! Daddo!" I think that's about when we gave up on the idea that we might all sleep together in the tent that night.

I actually did fall asleep and at some point Rory took Ivar into his crib.

I slept soundly until 1:00 when I had to use the restroom for the fourth time. And then we decided we had nothing to prove and moved into our bed. I was achy the next day, but actually was surprisingly comfortable out there with my four pillows propping my back, belly, knees and head.