Roughing it in the yuppy trailer

Thanks for the good luck wishes, but only some of them stuck. 

Eirinn slept well; better than expected.  Getting her to sleep was a chore (a violently loud and tantrum-y chore), but she slept clean through the night with nary a shift in position.  We took turns sleeping with her, so the bed wasn’t a cramped sardine can.

She also didn’t fall over the side of the boat when she went fishing with her Disney Princess fishing pole.  Shelurved riding in the boat.  She has been waiting for weeks to go for a ride and it didn’t disappoint.  She also loved fishing, but that mainly involved her passing the pole to Babba or Papa and letting Mommy take unbearably embarrassing pictures of them fishing with a two foot pink and purple Princess pole.

The baby didn’t fall out.  I’m not even joking when I say that at my doctor’s appointment on Friday afternoon I made him do a physical examination to assure me that baby falling out was an unlikely scenario.  Not that the trailer is in the middle of nowhere, there’s a hospital no more than 15 minutes away, but who wants to have their baby fall out in a boat in the middle of the lake?

The mosquitoes and black flies were certainly hungry, but the buffet was closed, my evil, winged, blood-thirsty nemesis.  We all armed ourselves with a bug patch (I’m not sure if this is the exact brand, but you get the idea), which, in all honesty, is God’s Gift to Northern/Central Ontarians, where we have two seasons – Winter and Bugs (as opposed to the seasons in the GTA, which are Winter and Construction).  There were so many bugs that if we opened our mouths to speak, we would have had to floss them out of our teeth, but none of us got a single bite.  Not one.

BUT.  The rain.  Come on, you guys.  You could have done a little better on the good weather wishes.  Oh, and the cold.  The rain and the cold sucked.  Good thing my parents’ trailer has a plasma tv with satellite or I would have been totally and uncontrollably enraged.

By the way, just a tip to whom it may concern: four dogs is too many at a trailer.  Four is too many for the two hour ride up in a cramped van, filled to capacity with luggage.  Four is too many stuck in a trailer in a rain storm.  Four is too many at night when all of them are used to sleeping in beds.  And four is WAY too many to take on a boat ride with four adults, a toddler, a cooler full of toddler snacks, exactly 26 fishing poles, my suitcase-sized camera bag, and a port-a-potty, even if the boat is an 18 foot pontoon.  Four dogs is too many.  

But at least mine wasn’t the one who still goes pee and poo on puppy pads inside the fully loaded trailer, which are always mysteriously and inconveniently located in the middle of the living room where we can all watch her squat and squeeze (Sophie…). 

And at least mine isn’t the one who snores like a drunk asthmatic trucker (Gizmo…). 

And at least mine isn’t the biggest and toughest and the only one afraid of fire works and shakes and cries and cowers for hours after a single, distant pop (Murphy…). 

However, I will admit without hesitation that mine was the loudest and undoubtedly the most annoying with his high-pitched barking and yipping and squawking. 

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