It’s one thing to go camping. It’s an entirely different thing to go camping with kids. My wife and I loved camping well before we had kids – real camping with tents and backpacks, not an RV. So when our first son was born we just kept right on camping. We bought a larger tent and put a foldable playpen inside. We had to pack diapers, baby foods, pacifiers, and wipes. We even put a small potty in a canoe so we could continue potty training him as we paddled and fished. By the time our second son came along, changing diapers beside of campfires and laying babies down for naps inside Coleman tents was business as usual. It’s just what we did. And when we woke beside mountain streams or looked at the stars from our hammocks it was always worth the hassle. The juice is worth the squeeze.
Camping with kids taught me that some of life’s greatest memories happen miles away from the nearest road, when it starts to rain and you string a tarp up over the fire, huddled together eating ribeye steaks with your bare hands and laughing together because you forgot to pack the forks.