Camp, Part I

Are you all tired of my sappy, angsty, pining yet?

Yes? Good. Let's talk day camp.

Camp. (Do you hear that? That musical swell? That's angels singing.)

Camp. (Say it loud and there's music playing, say it soft and it's almost like praying. Ten points if you know the musical.)

Ess and Gee went to day camp a week ago and they are going again this coming week and it is pretty much the best thing that's ever happened to me, after marrying Matt and actually giving birth to/otherwise falling in love with the little buggers. You would think, given my current reflective, oh-woe-is-me-children-grow-i'm-getting-old mood, that camp would be a bit of a struggle for me. That I would feel conflicted about shuttling my two oldest kids off for the better part of the day rather than spending each precious summer moment shooting sunshine and unicorn sparkles up their butts and generally loving them and hugging them and, I don't know, crafting (aha) or taking long walks holding hands and laughing.

Well. I did feel like that for approximately the first week of summer, but the reality is that they are whiny, temperamental creatures that no longer nap and frequently ruin things in my house when I fail to watch them closely and I am a whiny, temperamental creature that likes quiet and hates messy crafts of any kind (have I mentioned how much I hate crafts in the last three blog posts, like hate-hate them) including water games within 300 miles of dirt or sand. About a nanosecond and a few lukewarm hugs into week two of summer, we degenerated into tantrums and screaming (mine) and general unhappiness.

And then, in the second week of summer, there was camp. Drop off at 9:00, pick up at 2:30, run by their super-duper, awesome, enthusiastic, crafty, positive-discipline, small-person-loving, Pre-K teacher BRIE. WE LOVE BRIE! CAMP WITH BRIE!

At the end of the first day, Brie gushed that it was a great day, Ess and Gee were so easy and it was nice that they know me and that you know me because I had a lot of nervous new parents today so I got a lot of calls.

And I was all, PITY THE FOOLS!! DON'T THEY KNOW A BRILLIANT INVENTION WHEN THEY SEE ONE!!

CAMP (whhaaaaaahhhh, angel music, ping). You are so pretty, let me pet you.

On the second day of camp, I went to a friends house with only two of my children and one of them was really little and didn't cause any damage whatsoever. Okay, so Cue totally filled her dog's huge food dish and huge water dish to overflowing with dog food and much of her kitchen floor, but we were having a really lovely conversation at the time that involved sipping coffee and laughing and her daughter was totally involved in the dog food shenanigans so it was all good.

Meanwhile, my oldest children did not whine at me and complain and annoy each other and other people's children. No. They made Dr. Suess hats. Crafty Dr. Suess hats. AT CAMP (whhhaaaahhhhh, angel music, ping).

Then. Then. I came home and it was barely noon. I had two and a half more hours of CAMP (whaahhh, angel music, ping). I thought hmmmmm. What if both other children in my possession slept for those hours and it was like I had the house completely to myself and it was quiet?

I barely dared to hope, but I fed Nate and Cue and I put them to bed and 30 minutes later, I took a deep breath. No sounds. No whining. No requests for butt wipes. No howling about someone teasing someone else. Nothing. My two smallest children slept. My two oldest children most likely made a horrific mess eating lunch but not in my house. AT CAMP (whhaahhhh, angel music, ping).

This is my advice to you, stay at home mothers and father of multiple small children: Do not hesitate. Do not let your mind idealize the summer with its swimming and its popsicles and its smiling happy families playing blissfully in the sun. That crap only lasts a few days and there are lots of weeks in the summer, so you can pretend that you like spending all day with your children for a few weeks interspersed with camp weeks and it will be the best decision you have ever made.

For you.

Oh yeah. My kids kind of like camp too.

Run. Don't walk. RUN to camp sign up.

Because I am telling you, on what feels like the 200th day of whining and almost five-year oldness and fighting and yelling and wet cold rainy days that are supposed to be "summer," but so are not summer because SUMMER, Matthew, involves heat. Over eighty degree heat, halter top and shorts in the house heat, take a shower before bed so your hair is wet and you can sleep HEAT. Two hundred and seventy days of sunshine my ass, small, false-advertising town on the border of Idaho.

On that day, the Lord of Parents Who Can Not Do This for Three Months said:

LET THERE BE CAMP.

AND THERE WAS CAMP.

AND IT WAS GOOD.