Preparations for big event take an unexpected turn

I sat straight up in bed the other night as I woke up in a cold sweat.

Have you ever had one of those weird dreams where two life events merge into one, even though they might not seem to be related in the least.

Let me explain. I had a crazy dream about the first time I ever went camping on my own with only a two-year-old springer spaniel to keep me company.

Being five hours from most of my friends and family, it was the first time I’d ever planned a solo camping trip.

Solo, except for my trusty springer spaniel, CW, that is.

This trip was going to be one great adventure, and I wanted to be ready for it.

It was an adventure I had dreamed and schemed about for weeks.

Every time I’d find an item around the house that might somehow come in handy on our camping trip, I’d throw it into a big pile in the corner of my living room.

I gathered all my old camping gear, food, my favorite paperbacks, cookware and sleeping bag and threw it all on top of the ever-growing pile. After the pile seemed big enough, I then gathered it all up, stuffed it into my old Chevy, and headed up to Itaska State Park.

But for some reason, my dream didn’t put our campsite in northern Minnesota, near the mouth of the Mississippi River, as we (We being CW and me.) had actually done nearly 40 years ago.

No, we camped in the side yard of the Mitchell, S.D., farm house Peggy and I rented back in 1989, battling soy beatles as we tried to sleep in a two-man pup tent. Between the soy beatles and the noise of the crying baby, sleep did not come easily in that crowded little pup tent, though.

Crying baby? What? “Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” I muttered to myself as I tried to shake the cobwebs from 1986 out of my head.

Fast forward 37 years and there I was once again gathering all kinds of necessities and putting them into a pile preparing for an overnight adventure.

This overnight adventure didn’t involve young CW, though, it involved my three Hartington grandchildren.

The planning for their two-night, mini vacation at our house started months ago. Every time we got an idea about what to feed them, or how to entertain them, we’d simply heap those thoughts onto the pile.

This was going to be one great adventure, and we wanted to be ready for it. They say when you’ve got a lot on your mind, those thoughts seem to spill out into your dreams — and boy did I have a lot on my mind as the day for this new adventure quickly approached.

Would I know how to entertain little people after being an empty-nester for over a decade, now?

Would I be able to handle two nights in the same house with three kids in diapers?

Would I have to try and remember how to change those diapers?

Would I know if they weren’t feeling well? All these questions. All these things to worry about.

It’s no wonder I was having dreams that would wake me up in the middle of the night.

Thankfully, this wasn’t going to be a solo camping trip as it was back in 1986.

I had an ace up my sleeve. My wife of 37 years would be there. Heck, what was I worried about. She changes diapers. She fixes the kids’ food. With all the skinned knees, runny noses and upset tummies she’s had to deal with, she could practically run an ER.

No worries, I said to myself as I pounded my pillow back into shape. This is going to be a breeze.

To be continued.........