Camp, Closure

The kids have been home from camp enjoying the air conditioning.  They are full of camp songs, camp stories and camp bug bites.

Here’s how the pick-up went for my son:

He leapt to his feet, ran toward me and covered me with hugs and kisses.  He told me he missed me SO much and he was SO happy to see me. He may have said stuff to my husband but I couldn’t hear it.   He led us to his cabin to get all his stuff. I couldn’t take a picture of what I found there – I thought the counselors would be insulted. It was a hellhole. Smelly, sandy, clothes and half eaten bags of food everywhere.  It was like 8 boys had lived in a small, cramped space with no female intervention for 2 weeks. All his things would later be fumagated or burned.

I asked him to describe camp to me in 3 words, he said: Awesome, Fun, and Adventure.

Here’s the cabin – outside, it looks clean and welcoming. Inside, it was a disease factory. Too harsh?

Here’s his crew – not all these boys fit into his cabin – even though it smelled and felt like they did.   Look at all the cute, unwashed faces! My dirty birdy is sitting in the front, wearing a Ghostbuster’s tee.  I imagine all the counselors thinking,”yep, your kid didn’t brush his teeth once during the 2 weeks he was here!”.

Next we headed over to pick-up his sister.  Because his welcome was so gushy and mushy – hers was a shock to our system. I think my husband is scarred.

She was in a huddle with all the girls, crying, weeping, dare I say – wailing. “We’ve been through so much!” “I love you! I love you!” “Please keep in touch with me hourly!”.  It was so touching.  As a former teen girl myself, I was not phased at all.  This is all normal stuff.  Infact, this is how we left Block Island after my girls weekend a few weeks ago, “I don’t wanna go home!!!”.

Her daddy was like a deer in headlights. He didn’t know where to look or what to do. It was hysterical!  On the way home she told us that she can’t wait to go back  - and oh, by the way, there’s a winter session she’d like to do. Oh boy.

Her 3 words to describe her time: Challenging, Fun and Memorable.

Here’s a picture of her forever friends.  Note – her duffle bag and things were basically immaculate. It was like a before/after comparison with her brother’s stuff. Typical. That’s her with the sweatpants…oh, they all have sweatpants. That’s her with the tshirt….ugh. Ok – I know. She’s the one with the silly face on. Also typical.

Camp Sob Sob

I’ve been out of sorts. Not myself. A little distracted.  My kids left for camp today.  I won’t see them, hear them, hug them, kiss them, yell at them for 2 weeks. For the last 2 days I’ve been running around trying to pack all the necessary things they need to replace my love…err…I mean…to survive in the woods.  We packed and labeled all 1,000 items.  We talked about appropriate vs. inappropriate behavior (telling jokes, appropriate. burping jokes, not appropriate.)

So the boy said goodbye to the cat, the girl said goodbye to her phone – and they were ready.

I’ve been pretending to be really excited and happy – and I am. A little. But I’m also insanely, out-of-my-mind nervous for them.  I’ve had a sick, twisted feeling for days. This can’t be right. Dropping your kids off in the middle of the wood with no electricity to total strangers? I must be nuts. I’ve been trying to talk to my husband about it but he’s too busy looking up all the movies we’re going to see and restaurants we’ll be trying. I always knew I loved them more.

In defense of my husband’s total lack of freak out, I’ll say this  - he went to camp his whole childhood. He loved it – went with all the his cousins and stayed for weeks.  Now here’s a shocker. I did not. I stayed home all summer and caught up on General Hospital and Family Feud.  The closest I came to camp was a job as a counselor one summer – but that was for a long weekend and I was 18.

A girlfriend of mine told me about a New York Times article on “parental campsickness”.  I read the piece. I fit every broad generalization they made.  I’m a cliché. I don’t care.

I have been trying very hard not to make the kids nervous and anxious with all my issues – so I decided to focus on the positive (they’ll have so much fun I’ll have to drag them out of camp!) and not the negative (there are 2,867 ways to die in the woods, really).

I decided to write the kids letters they could read on the first night at camp – filled with advice, love and dried tears.

And off we went.

The camp was beautiful – the girls on one side of the lake – and the boys on the other.

The first camp challenge:  you must learn to pronounce your camp names! Good luck with that.

 

The kids found their cabins and met their groups – and I held it together almost the whole time.

This is what I found on the kitchen table when I got home.  The letters I was supposed to sneak to the counselors so the kids could get mail tonight at dinner.  Typical.  Keepin’ it real.

Summer Hours

It’s June.  School is over. Sports are over. It’s getting really hot. This is the start of a long, lazy summer for my kids.  There will be camp and travel in their future – but not yet.  My daughter is babysitting a little, and my son gave it a shot with an iced tea stand (a full 1/2 hour, he made $2) but other than that – they have nothing to do.  I am completely jealous.  I’m on conference calls and doing paperwork while watching them putz around.  You know putzing right? It’s like puttering or being idle.  I know we should give them some summer reading and math projects – they should be practicing piano everyday (sorry Ms. Tatyana) – and I know we should encourage them to keep their minds active and engaged. But we don’t.  We let them stay up late and sleep in.  That’s why on a perfectly good early afternoon – you can still find them snoozing.  Come back after lunch – they’ll be ready for the day.

Notice the sun beaming in through the windows, not that they notice.

In here somewhere is my firstborn.  The more time she spends sleeping  is the less time she spends texting.

And here’s the hooligan. The more he sleeps in  - the less he’s terrorizing your neighborhood.

Sweet sweet summer

It’s hot here.  Really hot.  Frizzy hair hot.  The kind of hot that only a large body of water can help.  Not that I would ever swim in an ocean, or a pool – but that’s another story.

Anyway, it’s this heat that inspired this post.  My kids, like all kids, love the summer.  Their father taught them how to swim – and they do – like fish.  We try to head towards the ocean come July.  When I started looking at some of our old water migration photos – I noticed a trend.  See if you can spot it….or lick it.

I call these – the ice cream chronicles.  From Montauk, to Lake George, to Mexico and Cape Cod.  We’ve eaten treats all over the hemisphere. Like mother like kids. The last two shots were taken by my daughter, who will no longer let me take sloppy food shots of her (doesn’t she love me?).

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