July 02, 2011

Worse than Nuclear Waste

So my boys are home from the Camp from Hell and... funnily enough, they are laughing about all of it. I thought they were going to come back irritated and over it all, instead they've been taking it in stride, laughing about the absurdity that surrounded them.

I'm very organized for their packing for camp. From instruction I took from a Scout Master many years ago, my boys leave with seven zip loc bags. Each bag is labeled a day of the week, each bag has clothes for that day. This does a few things... it ensures the boys have packed clothes for every day, certain days may require a Class B uniform and they know they have one if it's in that bag, when they come home if there are many bags that are full of clean clothes I know they didn't change (blech, didn't happen to us, but DID happen to a gf of mine... her kid came back with 5 bags of clean clothes), clean socks for every day go in each bag reminding them to change their socks (yes, that reminder is needed) and the biggest bonus... if it rains and rain gets in their tent, all new clothes stay dry.

I don't pack for them. They know the drill; they use the same bags year after year. The bags are stowed with the other camping gear.

The other prereq, is only old tennis shoes go. When they need new shoes, the old ones go into the garage to wait for camping. (If they've outgrown them, we go to Walmart or Payless and buy cheap crap tennis shoes that need to last exactly 7 days.)

So keep those little facts in mind as I tell this story.

When we arrived at Camp and unloaded all their things, as I stated previously we stowed all their things in the pavilion, which quickly filled with ants. My eldest took the initiative to get rid of the ants while my 2nd son set up camp in their tent.

I walked into the pavilion and found some ant free items and took them back to their tent, which was totally set up... beds were made, bags of clothes under each cot, battery fans set up and flashlights ready for the night.

I reached through to the two of them and the following conversation ensued:

Me: OK, take this bag...

I handed it through and T took it from me.

Me: And... here's another...

And Ringo took it from me...

The entire time, I'm starting to look around, something didn't smell right.

I held out another bag.

Me: And the last one. *Looking around*

Ringo: What's wrong.

Me: I'm sorry... something... something doesn't smell right.

Mr. T and Ringo: *blink*

Me: *quietly* It... smells... like... poop.

Ringo looked at me grinning, kind of sheepishly, "Mom, don't worry, those are my old shoes..."

Blech.

Teenage boy shoes could be used as nuclear weapons. There was no need to develop nuclear weapons. We could have just harvested hundreds and thousands and millions of teenage boy tennis shoes and dropped them on our enemies and won.

Clean up would have been a b*tch though.

Yesterday we picked up the boys from Camp and I had had the forethought to pack plastic bags in the car to immediately pack their shoes away from the air we breathe.

For the most part my car seemed OK, but every now and then, my car would wreak.

We unpacked the car when we arrived at my folks', and immediately threw their shoes on the back porch. The back porch, parts of it have become toxic. Tomorrow we're debating whether we're going to attempt to wash them or just take them outside and hose them down with water, soap, vinegar, and anything else we can think of.

I'd thought a big bonfire would work, but there's a burn ban here in Pensacola.

Ghastly. Absolutely ghastly.

Posted by Boudicca at July 2, 2011 08:52 PM
Comments

If it were me, I'd hose it all off, and then wash as needed. Or double seal the offending items off in biological waste disposal bags.

But I have a sensitive nose.

Posted by: Andrew Phule at July 3, 2011 11:50 AM