My New Reality: A Preview

It's been a strange summer thus far and it's going to remain strange right up until the first of August. It began in June with Ian heading off to a church youth group retreat in the Poconos the Monday after school let out. He returned home on a Friday afternoon and declined to join his family at the Phillies game and fireworks that evening. The next morning, Rob took Ian and his friend Keaton to the airport at 4:15 a.m. for a flight to Atlanta, where Keaton's parents would pick the boys up and take them to Lake Burton, Georgia. Their stay in Georgia lasted 10 days. On the day they returned, we dropped Abby and her friend Maddie off at Immaculata University for soccer camp. They spent four days there. Three days later Abby left for the Poconos for the middle schoolers' week-long church youth group retreat. That same day Rob and I flew to Minneapolis for the All Star Game. We left Ian home alone, paying one of Rob's coworkers to spend the nights with him.

Rob and I returned from Minnesota last Wednesday afternoon; Abby got home on Thursday. On Saturday, Rob and Ian headed out on their road trip to Oxford, Ohio where Ian is spending two weeks in Miami University's Summer Scholars program.

At the parent meeting for Abby's soccer camp, the leaders told us this would be a good first step toward college for the girls. They were responsible for getting themselves where they needed to be, when they needed to be there. They had to remember their gear and their water, and be sure to change their socks and clothes frequently enough that they didn't develop any strange rashes. They ate in the dining hall and slept in the dormitory and if they had lost their keys it would have cost us them $75. Naturally, Abby and Maddie were just fine. Those two could run the camp.

Ian's two week experience at Miami will be an even greater pre-college test. The question is, who will perform better, him or me?

While I usually welcome the opportunity to have a few days away from my children, I have to confess that this June-July anomaly has me a bit freaked out. Let's face it, these exoduses away from home are just harbingers of things to come. And those things to come will be here before I know it. And quite frankly, I'm not sure I'm ready. Me. The one who started counting down the days till they left for college when they were three. Me. The one who thought this motherhood thing might have been a poor (and irreversible) job choice. Me. The one with the 10-year plan that includes no one except me and Rob on a beach somewhere. How has this happened? How is it that I actually have a small ache in my heart?

I think what happened is that I've grown to really like my kids. Loving your children is pretty much a given, but liking them? Not always. As they've gotten older, we actually have meaningful conversations (as long as Ian's not sitting in front of a screen of some sort), and I find I truly enjoy their company. Ian's bright, quick wit never fails to amuse and impress, and Abby's observations, intelligence and competitive spirit provide a challenge.

I'm amazed at the way they've both changed in the past year or so; Ian, in particular. Last summer he couldn't wait to come home from two camp experiences right here at Villanova, 15 minutes from home. He was miserable. This year he's nine hours away for two weeks, spending his days with complete strangers. And he loves it. He's made friends, enjoys his classes (The Business of Sports), and finds the whole experience "great." "Great" is high praise indeed from a 16-year-old boy. On day one it was only "good."

Knowing that Ian's doing well has eased that small ache, but I do miss his sense of humor. I suppose I better get used to it.

This Saturday, while Ian's still in Ohio, Rob, Abby, my mom and I will drive 10 hours to Banner Elk, NC for our church mission trip. We'll leave a day early, Friday, August 1, in order to pick up Ian at the Baltimore airport where he'll fly in from Cincinnati at the conclusion of his Miami U. experience. We'll return home that night where we will begin the month of August with nothing more than Vacation Bible School on the calendar.

It'll be weird, being together like that. I just hope the kids don't get on my nerves.

A Moment of Maternal Truth

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 geek club counselors at the entrance to camp, I knew I was about to face a moment of maternal truth. Did I possess even a morsel of warm & fuzzy mothering material that would cause me to shed tears at the rapidly approaching moment of separation from my little girl?

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 incredibly annoying and stupid camp songs. I couldn't help but wonder whether they were required/paid to sing, perhaps for a badge, or whether it was just spontaneously joyous vocalizing. I was actually hoping it was the former. My snarky, but unspoken reaction to this nonsense was Strike 1.

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.

Abby, my Abby, and Maddie at Girl Scout camp

From there, Abby and I were escorted to her camp site where we were thrilled and not just a little relieved to  learn she would be bunking with two friends from home. We picked the steel frame and threadbare mattress bed most likely to be farthest from the bears. Made her bed. Waited for her friends to arrive. Contemplated use of the latrine. And then, after taking a few pictures to show Dad and Ian at home, I had to say goodbye. The moment of truth had arrived. Would Abby cry? Would I cry or at least feel really sad like a loving mom should?

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.