Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Camping Out

Episode Date: August 14, 2023

Our story tonight is called Camping Out and it’s a story about a tent set up in the backyard on a summer night. It’s also about fireflies blinking from between the trees, a pep talk that helps you forget your worries and a snoring dog, stretched out between the sleeping bags. We give to a different charity each week and this week we are giving to Whaley Children’s Center in my hometown of Flint Michigan. https://whaleychildren.org Whaley Children’s Center empowers youth and families to overcome trauma. To subscribe to our ad-free and premium feeds, buy merch and autographed books, request a cameo from Kathryn or learn more about the Village of Nothing Much visit www.nothingmuchhappens.com  Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nicolai. I read and write all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different charity each week, and this week we are giving to Whaley Children's Center in my hometown of Flint, Michigan.

Whaley Children's Center empowers youth and families to overcome trauma. We have a link to them in our show notes. As always, you can find more Nothing Much, including some special audio, autographed copies of my book, and links to subscribe to our ad-free and bonus episodes at nothingmuchappens.com Now, if you are new to this let me say a bit about how this works.

By using this podcast you are conditioning your brain and body to respond to a cue for sleep and relaxation. And the more you do it, the easier dropping off to sleep and returning to sleep will become. All you need to do is listen to the sound of my voice and rest your mind on the shape of the story. I'll tell it twice, and I'll go a little bit slower the second time. If you wake later in the night, don't hesitate to start the story over again. No. lights out.

It's time to snuggle in and make yourself as comfortable as you can be. Let your whole body relax and drop heavy into your sheets. Whatever you did today, it is enough. You have done enough. Take a deep breath in through your nose. And sigh from your mouth.

Again, breathe in. Out with sound. Good. Our story tonight is called Camping Out. And it's a story about a tent set up in the backyard on a summer night. It's also about fireflies blinking from between the trees,

a pep talk that helps you forget your worries, and a snoring dog stretched out between the sleeping bags. Camping out. It was decided that I had the perfect backyard for it because my backyard, as my nephew pointed out, didn't have like a bunch of flowers and stuff and the grass was high, so it would be a soft place to put the tent. Thanks, buddy, I said. Fair enough.

I had meant to plant more this summer, to put in hydrangeas or rose bushes, or whatever grown-ups might have in their backyards, but I just hadn't gotten around to it. And it was already August, so it seemed silly to start now. And yes, I hadn't mowed in a week or two, but, you know, there is such a thing as being too organized, and I was glad I could never be accused of that. And I think that the longer grass attracted more fireflies, because there certainly were a lot this year. So, yes, I did have the perfect backyard for camping out. My two nephews had been asking if they could put up a tent and roll out their sleeping bags for weeks now. I'd told them to ask their dads that if it was okay with them,

it was okay with me. And when the idea had gotten two thumbs up, we'd decided tonight was the night. They live just a couple blocks away and are used to trekking back and forth whenever they ran out of popsicles at their own house or were just in need of a change of scenery. During the school year, they'd sometimes get off the bus here,

stay for a while, have some snacks, and start their homework before heading home. And most days, they walk their dog, Clover, around to my place, when we all go to the park together. They'd brought Clover today, as they marched over after dinner. She was a good, calm girl, a golden retriever who loved her boys and was excited to be included in tonight's adventure. We rooted around in the garage until we found the pup tent. I called it a puppy tent since Clover was going to sleep in it too, which didn't get any laughs but didn't discourage me. Making dumb jokes and putting in overgrown backyards is all just part of being a cool aunt, I figured.

The tent, for as small as it was, took quite a while to put up. And by the time we were done and their sleeping bags were rolled out, we needed a break. I'd promised them we could have a fire in my little fire pit, which was just an old wheelbarrow that had seen better days rolled out onto the cement patio. I'd been dropping

bits of kindling into it for the last week or so, and it caught easily crackling and glowing as the boys hunted for some good marshmallow roasting sticks in the yard. We pulled up some camping chairs, and I passed around sodas and a bag of marshmallows. I filled a water bowl for Clover and took some of her treats from a stash in the cupboard. We sat, turning our marshmallows slowly so they didn't burn, and watching the light change. Sunset was coming earlier, and while that had been technically true

every evening since solstice, it hadn't been noticeable until the last week or so. It meant it was almost time to go back to school. And I asked the boys how they felt about it. The older one just shrugged his shoulders and started throwing a ball for the dog. His younger brother, however, had a lot to say.

He talked about being excited for parts of the new school year and a little nervous about others. I remembered that feeling myself and just listened as he talked it all out. The things that felt so big when I was his age feel so small to me now, and I knew that that change of perspective only happens with time.

His big brother, who I thought wasn't listening as he played fetch with Clover, offered up a bit of advice, saying that third grade was fun because you started reading longer books and got to go on some good field trips. I smiled as I watched the worry drain out of his little brother's face. Sometimes there is nothing more assuring than a little pep talk from your big brother. I could relate, since one of their dads was my big brother, and he regularly pep-talked me through the grown-up version of those third-grade worries.

I realized this probably meant that the stuff that felt scary and big right now would seem small and simple in a few years' time. I guess we are never done growing up. The fireflies were starting to come out, rising from the grass and glinting between tree trunks at the edge of the yard. We pointed them out to each other

and reached our hands toward them, hoping they would land and linger for a moment on our palms. Sometimes they did, and the boys would lean in, marveling at the glowing, magical bugs. Soon they were yawning teeth and debated about whether, when you camp, you should wear pajamas or stay in shorts and t-shirts.

I didn't have an opinion on this one and told them they could do whatever they liked. They climbed into their bags and I squatted in the tense entrance. Clover lay down between them and stretched out happily. They had flashlights

and books and bottles of water and about a dozen other things they deemed important for this adventure. Zipped up or not, I asked, and the youngest, who was starting to look a little unsure about this idea, said, Um, I think zipped, but we can unzip from inside, right? Right, I said in a low voice. It was dark now, and the scent of the wilder night air and wood smoke from the campfire was all around us. And if you can't sleep, I'll just be in there. I pointed my flashlight beam toward the house. I'm camping out too, but just on the sofa tonight.

And I've got extra blankets. So if you decide you want to come in, you can sleep there with me, okay? I'm sleeping out here with Clover, said the older boy confidently. Okay, said his brother. Okay, I echoed back and patted their feet through the sleeping bags. I gave Clover a pat, too, and reached for the zipper. Good night, you three.

Sweet dreams. Camping out. It was decided that I had the perfect backyard for it. Because my backyard, as my nephew pointed out, didn't have, like, a bunch of flowers and stuff, and the grass was high, so it would be a soft place to put the tent. Thanks, buddy, I said.

Fair enough. I had meant to plant more this summer, to put in hydrangeas or rose bushes or whatever grown-ups might have in their backyards, but I just hadn't gotten around to it, and it was already August, so seemed silly to start now. And yes, I hadn't mowed in a week or two, but you know, there is such a thing as being too organized. And I was glad that I grass attracted more fireflies, because there certainly were a lot this year. So, yes, I did have the perfect backyard for camping out. My two nephews had been asking if they could put up a tent and roll out their sleeping bags for weeks now. I told them to ask their dads that if it was okay with them, it was okay with me. And when the idea had gotten two thumbs up, we'd decided tonight was the night.

They live just a couple blocks away and are used to trekking back and forth whenever they run out of popsicles at their own house or just need a change of scenery. During the school year, they'd sometimes get off the bus here, stay for a while, have some snacks, and start their homework before heading home. And most days, they walk their dog Clover around to my place, and we all go to the park together. They'd brought Clover today, as they marched over after dinner.

She's a good, calm girl, a golden retriever who loves her boys and was excited to be included in tonight's adventure. We rooted around in the garage until we found the pup tent. I called it a puppy tent, since Clover was going to sleep in it too, which didn't get any laughs, but didn't discourage me. Making dumb jokes and putting up tents in overgrown backyards, it's all just part of being a cool aunt, I figured. The tent, for as small as it was, took quite a while to put up. And by the time we were done, and their sleeping bags were rolled out, we needed a break. I promised them we could have a fire in my little fire pit, which was just an old wheelbarrow that had seen better days rolled out onto the cement patio.

I'd been dropping bits of kindling into it for the last week or so, and it caught easily, crackling and glowing, as the boys hunted for some good marshmallow roasting sticks in the yard. We pulled up some camping chairs, and I passed around sodas and a bag of marshmallows. I filled a water bowl for Clover and took some of her treats from a stash in the cupboard. We sat, turning our marshmallows slowly so they didn't burn, and watching the light change. Sunset was coming earlier, and while that had been technically true, every evening since the solstice, it hadn't been noticeable until the last week or so. It meant it was almost time to go back to school. And I asked the boys how they felt about it. The older one just shrugged his shoulders

and started throwing a ball for the dog. His younger brother, however, had a lot to say. He talked about being excited for parts of the new school year, and a little nervous about others. I remembered that feeling myself. I just listened as he talked it all out. The things that felt so big when I was his age feel small to me now, and I knew that that change of perspective only happens with time. His big brother, who I'd thought wasn't listening as he played fetch with Clover, offered up a bit of advice, saying that third grade was fun because you started reading longer books and got to

go on some good field trips. I smiled as I watched the worry drain out of his little brother's face. Sometimes there is nothing more assuring than a little pep talk from your big brother. I could relate, since one of their dads was my big brother. And he regularly pep-talked me through the grown-up version of those third-grade worries. I realized this probably meant that the stuff that felt scary and big to me right now would seem small and simple in a few years' time. I guess we're never done growing up. Fireflies were starting to come out, rising from the grass and glinting between tree trunks at the edge of the yard. We pointed them out to each other and reached our hands toward them, hoping they would land and linger for a moment on her palms. Sometimes they did, and the boys would lean in, marveling at the glowing, magical bugs. And soon they were yawning, and Clover was snoring in one of the chairs.

After they'd brushed their teeth and debated about whether when you camp out you should wear pajamas or stay in shorts and t-shirts. I didn't have an opinion on this one and told them they could do whatever they liked. They climbed into their bags and I squatted in the tense entrance. Clover lay down between them and stretched out happily. They had flashlights and books and bottles of water

and about a dozen other things they deemed important for this little adventure. Zipped up or not? I asked. And the youngest, who was starting to look a little unsure about this idea, said, Um, I think zipped, but we can unzip it from inside, right? Right, I said in a low voice. It was dark now, and the scent of the wilder night air and wood smoke from the campfire was all around us. And if you can't sleep, I'll just be in there. I pointed my flashlight beam toward the house.

I'm camping out too, but just on the sofa tonight, "'and I've got extra blankets. "'If you decide you want to come in, "'you can sleep there with me, okay?' "'I'm sleeping out here with Clover,' "'said the older boy confidently. "'Okay,' said his brother. Okay, I echoed back and patted their feet through the sleeping bags.

I gave Clover a pat too and reached for the zipper. Good night, you three. Sweet dreams.