This post was written the last time I sent my son to camp and may be the reason I’m going with my kids this year. Ahem,I mean, I’m going with them to tell you guys what it’s like from a mom’s POV and as a nostalgic and humorous experiment, not at all because I spent that summer sucking my thumb in a corner…
Then it dawned on me, it’s camp. Sending my son to camp makes me mildly certifiable, which lucky for my family, manifests in all parts of my life. Like when I got upset with my hubby the other night while watching The Change Up, because I asked, “If you were in someone else’s body, would you go on a date with Olivia Wilde?” and he was all “Yes.”
“What I’m not enough?” I said. But why? I mean, would I not schtup Ryan Reynolds if I were in someone else’s body or my own, for that matter?
Or when I snipped at my daughter because she ALWAYS makes me be the ugly Barbie. The one whose hair is all matted and doesn’t have clothes or shoes… or feet!
No, this was all about camp. Knowing I will have NO control over whether my baby puts on sunblock or brushes his teeth, or eats Fruity Pebbles everyday for breakfast, lunch and dinner or runs with flip-flops on rocky terrain or doesn’t make the intercamp team or doesn’t make friends.
Look, I get it — those are all the reasons I sent my son to camp: to get some independence, to make new friends, to have fun, to get away from us, to get away from fighting with his sister, to have unique experiences, to learn that he doesn’t need us reminding him of every little thing.
I GET IT.
But this is the same child who said, “Mom, don’t forget to pack my comforter this year.”
“Um, I packed you a comforter last year, I bought it specifically for camp.”
“Nu-uh, you just sent that throw blanket.”
Yes, one week ago I learned that my son had spent the summer in upstate NY shivering under a baby blanket sized throw, and never thought to ask his counselors if they’d seen something a bit warmer in his bag or write us to inquire.
So, I do get the logical stuff, but I also know kids.
Plus, there’s an illogical part of my mind that’s hard to argue with, as it’s already been established that it doesn’t believe in what makes sense to begin with. Hence warranting the moniker, “illogical.”
That’s the part that tells me not to take Xanax on a plane because I may need all my wits about me to save my family other passengers and possibly help land the thing.
That’s the part that heard my son tell me he’d just used the money I gave him to buy stuff for the plane ride on Jolly Ranchers, and all I could think was, really, you had to get hard candy?
When I went to camp, I never considered what was going on on the other side. What my PARENTS were dealing with. They didn’t even have daily pictures to wait for at all hours of the night — to scour for smiles, joy, and proof that I was safe and breathing. Frankly, I don’t know how they survived the summer without that modern perk!
Yet, I got the feeling those parents were mostly happy to get rid of us. They embraced their freedom, taking trips abroad and doing whatever it was parents did without us around in the 80‘s — smoked cigarettes and went to key parties, I’m assuming.
Some moms still do, embrace their freedom, that is — (I don’t know much about modern key parties, though I hear swinging is making a comeback). Anywho, I hate those motha’s! Those moms that truly believe all will be good, that see this as a chance to get some space, maybe take a trip, see if they still love their spouses, they’re too evolved.
You know, the one’s that aren’t worrying if their kids will choke on hard candies, or about the plane or bus, or neglected hygiene, or trouble with social interaction, or bad choices, or the other myriad of possibilities. They’re confident in the logic that says, their children will have a great/safe summer, and they will enjoy the reprieve.
Camp is as delightful for them as it is for the kids and it’s seems too effortless and uncomplicated and normal, and way out of my reach. So, I’ll do what the rest of us do: Enjoy my days, with that smidgen of underlying worry, stay up ‘til all hours waiting for pics to download (sometimes one at a time), send an email at least once a day trying to make mundane stuff like, what the dog is doing, where we found the cat hiding and what we had for dinner, seem fascinating — and hope that he has as an awesome summer.
Sooo, this summer my daughter is going too and I’ve decided to see if all my worrying is warranted and find out what REALLY goes on at sleepaway camp! In a series called JennyFromTheBunk – I Followed My Kids to Sleepaway Camp – Now What?
To follow along make sure you’re a fan on the Facebook page and if you’re on twitter, Pinterest or Instagram (I’ll surely have some interesting photos to post). And please take a sec to share this with any friends who’ve been to camp, have kids in camp, or people who like the humor in the unknown.
XO – Jenny From The