Don’t believe everything our photos would have you believe, adventures with Finn rarely involve a smiling, happy mother-child combination for long. There are moments of absolute joy, but those are interspersed with many more moments of frustration, exasperation and tears, a little like the everyday journey of parenting really.
I was recently asked in an online interview if our adventures always go to plan. I gave a vague response along the lines of “well, none of our adventures really go to plan but that’s the reality of adventuring with kids”. True, but I honestly couldn’t come up with any concrete examples, just this vague feeling that things never quite happened as I would have liked them to. It was only a few days later, still pondering the question that I recalled some of the minor disasters we’ve had.
It would appear that when it comes to our adventures I develop temporary amnesia. When we return from an adventure and friends ask how it went, I always reply that we had an amazing time. I’m not lying, I just think my memory must block out all the little things that didn’t quite go to plan. Such as how I’ve cried for the first four days of a week long trip, wondering what on earth I was doing, how I’ve nearly exploded with rage on many occasions and have had to battle to keep my own anger under control (with various levels of success) while Finn expressed his, how exhausted I’ve been listening to Finn’s chatter and stories of ancient Greek and Roman battles for close to three hours of walking because I knew as long as he was engaged in a story he’d be happy to keep going. My untrustworthy memory had replaced all the challenges with a sort of warm, fuzzy feeling of contentment.
Finn’s introduction to camping, aged 6 months was at a beach camp site in north west Scotland for a friend’s wedding. On the journey up I started to feel ill and spent the night in an exhausted stupor between the tent to breastfeed Finn and the toilet block to throw up. The selective amnesia kicked in and we returned home from that trip thinking about how much fun it was camping with a little one. So, the following year we were camping again, in the north of Scotland. We’d been at a friend’s house party and had not long retreated to sleep in a field in our tent when Finn woke us up with a spectacular vomiting extravaganza. We mopped up as best we could with any spare clothes and a couple of borrowed towels and were then promptly treated to a repeat performance. His sleeping bag was covered, along with the sheepskin he slept on. Now after midnight, packing up and driving over four hours home was not an option so there was nothing to do but try and get some sleep amidst the stink.
When Finn was two, I must have had a flash of misguided enthusiasm and decided it was time for our first camping trip together, just the two of us. On our first night I pitched up in Ullapool, ready to take the early ferry to Stornoway the next day to camp on the idyllic white sandy beaches of Uig on the west coast of the Isle of Lewis. I won’t go into details (it involved a lot of tears), but we lasted all of a night. I couldn’t cope and retreated to my mother-in-law’s house a couple of hours drive away. During our camping trip to Orkney last year, there was no such easy escape. After our trip I wrote “at times, our trip felt like I was stuck in a social experiment or reality TV show. One where two strong willed and stubborn characters were thrown onto an island in a tiny tent to see what chaos ensues. There were highs and there were lows. There were several meltdowns a day. There were ample opportunities for me to practice mindfulness and patience. There were moments where the experiences I was seeking were at odds with what Finn wanted”. Eight months on and the despair I surely felt at the time has been replaced by fond memories of our experience.
By now you’re probably wondering why on earth I bother at all? It’d be a lot easier to stay at home and watch the telly would it not? Well, I often question my zeal myself. On our recent trip to Hadrian’s Wall, hiking in cold, wet and windy conditions and Finn and I arguing over some minor point, I snapped and told him that was it, I couldn’t do this adventuring any more, no more trips just the two of us. In that split second I meant it, but the minute the words were out of my mouth I knew it was a lie. I knew that as soon as we returned home I’d be hatching plans for our next mini-adventure. Finn knew it too. “But you’ll forget mum” he said, recovering himself and smirking, “you always do”. Back to why I persevere with our adventures… Last week as I was hurrying Finn to the bus stop (and he was idly observing something in the roadside ditch) he stopped short. “Mum” he pondered, looking me in the eye, “I love everything we do. Everything we do is such fun isn’t it?” “Absolutely!” I replied with only a blip of a hesitation. Well, maybe that’s all the encouragement I need. A childhood full of fun is surely worth a few parental tears and frustrations along the way? Although it would appear that Finn suffers from the same affliction of temporary amnesia that I do.
So if you’re feeling disheartened by your own less than joyous outdoor family experiences, remember, in all those happy smiling photos, we were probably arguing passionately with each other not five minutes earlier. Take heart, you’re creating some wonderful family memories and your kids are probably actually having a lot of fun, even if you aren’t.