Pamplin Grove 2013. This was FINALLY my summer vacation – OUR summer vacation. Three solid days of not working. Hanging out in no-reception-cell-range awesomeness. All four of us together. I couldn’t wait.

We arrived. 4 people, 2 cars, a trailer full of gear, and 150 days worth of food.

This isn’t just any camping. This is a weekend where every person in the campground is part of an interrelated family-friends gathering. The gate closes behind us and within the confines of that campground we become part of a giant tribal community. The kids run in packs, the dogs run in packs and the adults do their best to channel low-rent parenting tactics with cocktails in hand and camp-chairs permanently affixed to our butts. Kids are encouraged to scram, armed with a base set of ground rules, checking in only if someone is bleeding or in need of hydration.

We hung our site flag, unpacked our litany of tents and chairs and food and bikes, and joined in the festivities already underway.

Then came day 2.

As I lay in my tent trying very hard to doze and ignore the ridiculously loud prattle of 6 high-pitched child voices around the early-morning campfire, I all of a sudden hear a loud scream emanate from my youngest child, a scuffle and Steve’s voice yelling. Then another more pronounced scream that made me bolt upright and scramble out of the tent. It was all pretty chaotic, and by the time I was out, Steve was already headed out of camp with a screaming Porter. It took what seemed an eternity before I was able to find the mob of kind and helpful fellow campers huddled around my husband and son at the water spigot. Porter’s bare foot had gone into the fire.

It was a bit difficult at first to actually assess the damage. Porter was pretty hysterical, and looking at his foot, the extent of the burn wasn’t immediately visible. One thing was, however, readily clear: it hurt like a mother. Thankfully one of the guys helping us had the dressing materials we needed to get the area properly hydrated, covered and gauzed. From there, one thing was clear – this kid needed some pain meds. And so it was, we headed out to the nearest ER – all the while trying to calm the wails coming from the back seat. “IT FEELS LIKE A THOUSAND ARROWS SHOOTING INTO MY FOOT!”

At the ER, Nurse to Porter: “Okay, so on a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and 10 being… -NINE!” (the poor nurse wasn’t even able to finish asking the question). Meds were administered and a little more calm evaluation was able to take place. First and 2nd degree burns, side of the foot, most likely no permanent damage, good that it wasn’t on the sole or toes. “You may want to think about cutting your camping trip short.” Steve and I kind of look at each other like, “Um. Yeah, no.” He is going to be fine. We will keep it clean and dry, use common sense if anything looks amiss and you send us back with that nice prescription of pain meds. We will take it from here.

By the time we left, Porter was describing his visions of rainbows and unicorns and proclaiming a gleeful “ZERO!!” when asked by the nurse about his pain level. We got into the car, headed to the nearest pharmacy for a bottle of pills, a bag full of gauze and tube of Neosporin and headed back to camp.

Once back, Porter got a hero’s welcome and the men got right to work on a proper shoe in which he could hobble around. Out. Came. The. Duck. Tape. And that, as they say, was that!

Camp on!

We celebrated Liam and Melissa’s birthdays in appropriate style – with a PBR-themed cape, water balloons, presents and treats. We ate deep-pit pig and lamb, watched the large gaggle of children perform skits and songs around the main communal fire-pit and roasted an insane amount of marshmallows. Somehow, Lynn, Melissa and I all ended up with these sweet Momgyver shirts that another camper had brought for the moms of the group. Porter hung in beautifully. He was disappointed he couldn’t be in the river, but made the best of the situation by parking himself on the beach in a chair while each of us took turns playing rounds of UNO with him.

Last year’s gathering had a broken leg. This year not only had a burned foot, but also a foot-in-wasp-nest episode. Each one slowly fossilizing into legends.

(Psst. You can find the entire photo set here.)