a fifo wife {fifo life: real life fifo: kids: camping indoors}

I’m a bit late today. My alarm went off willingly at 430am but I did not. I threw a pillow over my head and went back to sleep. You see we camped out last night. And whilst it wasn’t outside…bugger that it was 3 degrees last night..I did negotiate the lounge room which isn’t much warmer I must add. So the boys where ecstatic me not at all. I’m 35 year old woman sleeping on the floor of my lounge room with a sleeping bag when I have  a perfectly good comfortable mattress just meters from the cold, cold floor. But the things you do right? I even did smores (an American concept) in the fire place, a complete and utter disaster and after the sugar burns and impatient dance of come on mum the little buggers said in unison…I don’t like that..whats that black stuff…that black stuff boys is mummy trying to make this FUN.

So I say with a massive sigh the trickiest things perhaps I have discovered  about this FIFO gig I think is trying to do the blokey stuff father stuff with the boys right. I wasn’t blessed with girls and I’m rather thankful for that I think..I was a horrible child I think..but my boys are super hero wrestling run everywhere boy boys. Boy Boys and Im trying to give them that balance. I try to play with them just like dad does when dad is away. Its a hard feet I tell you. He is 6ft4 115kg me 5ft1 60kgs the weight bearing difference is painful when all three are on you at once trust me but I feel like I have to. Its a compensation thing that and really  I want to (shhh don’t tell anyone) It can be painful but fun and sometimes a little embarrassing when the neighbours catch me growling mid bear wrestle.

I’m pretty sure that I’m the only mother in the street who can be found most afternoons on the trampoline wrestling with her boys. I think I’m also the only mother in my street that does bush walking, red clawing, boxing and playing scooters also. I could be wrong but I dont think the grazes my neighbours have on her knees are from the falling off a power wing because she still hasn’t got the dismount right. I do however draw the line at football, rugby, league what ever the hell you call it. Cant stand it, don’t understand, don’t want to and just don’t like it. Fortunately neither does my husband…..well don’t tell his work mates that.

So this morning I’m nursing a kinked neck and I’m a wee bit tired and have that hung over feeling from lack of good sleep from trying to find a soft spot on the timber floor. Yes I did have a mattress…a yoga one…because well that’s what the boys say that real campers use…and because they have only been camping once in their life and that was in our very comfortable hand me down pop up that my parents gave us..I let them live in that illusion. And yes I have been real camping. Every second weekend and three solid months of the year until I was 16 years old (that’s when my parents brought a caravan and deemed school to important to miss) That’s where I learnt to gut a fish, light a fire, run from a crocodile (don’t run in a straight line its a zig zag motion to the nearest tree and climb climb), tie a mud crab, drive a boat, ride a horse and throw a throw net. Loved every minute of that childhood and what it taught me and its why I slept on the cold cold floor last night because its guilt. Guilt I cant give my boys that and that every second month daddy isn’t there to throw them six foot into the air..ahh there’s more of that guilt we are also good at…oh but look at that…the electricity is on and I have a house to go camping in..guilt what guilt..

So my question to you lovelies and its not about guilt god knows we suffer enough of that but do you camp? Have you ever camped in doors? or in the back yard? and more importantly the trick to not burning smores which even burnt are rather delicious.

Have a great Monday my lovelies,

xx Deb