As we exited the highway, Abby gripped my hand. My emotionally-connected mothering quotient was about to be tested...On Sunday I dropped Abby off at Girl Scout camp, a week-long, sleep-away in the woods experience where she would not be allowed to call home unless attacked by a bear or terrorized by wolves. Did Abby excitedly present the camp idea to me, begging permission to go? Nope, I'm the one who sold it to Abby because I wanted to live vicariously through her. I worked at a camp one summer during college and always thought it would have been pretty cool to have been a camper myself.
Now, as we approached the smiling, waving
Friends, family, and even anonymous Freakin' Angel readers know by now that I'm not a candidate for Mother of the Year. I've shared my tough love attitude in "Sick Enough for Sympathy?," bemoaned the evils of tweens, and just last week whined about what kids cost us emotionally, mentally, socially, and financially. But my sense from fellow tougher-than-typical moms (and you know who you are) is that sending your kids to sleep-away camp will manage to bring out even Mommy Dearest's softer side.
So here's how it went down. We arrived at the registration pavilion where we were not exactly greeted but rather treated to a chorus of teen Girl Scout counselors standing in a circle singing
At the pavilion, Abby had to first enter the head and feet check room where they searched her hair to make sure she hadn't hidden an illicit cell phone in her ponytail. From there, we turned in the medical records, the signed Girl Scout Code of Conduct, the Bear Protocol agreement form (seriously), and the camper pick-up form which explained that should we be late in picking up our daughter on Friday, she would be turned over to child services. Also at the pavilion, they guilted more money out of us so our daughters could shop in the Trading Post during the week. You should know that "trading post" is a misnomer, as no actual trading goes on in there. They only sell stuff. And finally, they trotted us past the Monday through Friday mail bins where more loving and thoughtful parents than I had already deposited a goodie bag and/or letter for their daughter for each day of the coming week. Crap. Strike 2.
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| Abby, my Abby, and Maddie at Girl Scout camp |
Abby cried. Not sobbing, clinging-to-my-leg-as-I'm-trying-to-leave-crying, but definite apprehension with a dash of misgiving about the whole thing.
I did not cry. Strike 3.
Right now, half of you are thinking I'm Mommy Dearest in disguise, while the other half is giving me the benefit of the doubt, assuming I was intentionally being stoic so as not to cause Abby to become more upset by seeing me cry.
The truth is, I wasn't sad. And 24+ hours later, I'm still not sad. I'm not even sure I miss her yet because honestly, moms and kids need a break from each other once in a while.
But the good news, the evidence that I am apparently human with some maternal tendencies, is that I struggled to fall asleep last night as I thought of Abby. I worried/wondered whether she was able to sleep out there in the woods, in the dark, with the sometimes scary sounds of nature surrounding her. I wondered if her counselors would be nice, and if the other girls would be friendly. I wondered how badly the latrines might smell. And I wondered whether she might be homesick.
I expect in a day or two, my sense of peace will be replaced by an odd sense that part of me is missing (as my friend Emily explained so wonderfully in her post, "The Whole Truth About Motherhood"), but then I'll just have to remind myself that my beautiful, intelligent, confident and adventurous daughter is probably having the time of her life.
3 comments:
I like to thin that there are "Moms of the Year" and then there are "Real Moms of the Year". The first are incredibly annoying and, if I might say so, fake. The second are those who embrace reality and love their kids and question everything they do. You are definitely a candidate for Real Mom of the Year - please take this as the highest form of a compliment.
Even if Abby hates camp, she will grow from the experience and that is such an important gift to give her. But my guess is that she will love it.
Seriously, there are parents who cry when their kids leave home--for school or camp or visits with grandparents? Geez, I struck out years ago. I sent off my two older sons last week for a week with Grandma & Grandad and spent the rest of the week thinking, "Why didn't I find somewhere to send the third one???"
Tears--are you kidding? The only tears I shed were on Sunday over dinner at a restaurant where we were supposed to be celebrating the 10-year anniversary of Ryan's adoption. And those tears were ones of chagrin and aggravation because the 3 of them were bickering and complaining nonstop!
OK, I did look at Ryan's empty bed a few times last week and think of him. But I was thinking, "Weird. No kid in there. But the drawers are all closed and the bed is made and no one is yelling my name. I could get used to this!"
Why does society think that loving our kids means we have to yearn for their presence all the time? Isn't it healthier to launch them into the world with joy (and yes, a measure of relief)? Lord knows, if they don't get the practice in surviving apart from Mom & Dad, they might never leave home. And heaven help us all if that happened!
Moms do need a break from their kids; and kids need a break from their moms, too, don't you think? I like what Emily pointed out, that regardless of whether Abby loves or hates camp, she will learn and grow from the experience.
And this post suggests that you are well on your way to the gradual releasing that is necessary for parents to practice, so that our kids also feel they can go out into the world with confidence and figure stuff out, find their way, and learn how to lean on others and themselves.
The whole post sounds more like a good solid hit than a strikeout!
Write and send a couple of letters, and as far as I'm concerned, you'll have a home run!
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