It's a Little Campy

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

I dropped my children off at camp Sunday afternoon.

I dropped my children off at camp Sunday afternoon - the same camp I've been reading about for the last three years.

The very first time I read about it, I cried like a helpless, emotionally incompetent person.

Same thing happened the second time.

Then I learned that a dear friend of mine went to that camp when she was younger.

The next thing I knew, each girl had a friend signed up to go with them to camp, and the rest is history.

Here's the thing. Summer Camp is awesome; however, I do think there should be some sort of parental preparation program to accompany the fact that you are dropping your kids off in the middle of the higher-than-average-socioeconomic-status-woods (doesn't quite have the same ring to it as Hundred Acre Woods, does it?).

Despite the fact that I cannot communicate with them, but instead can only communicate to and from via snail mail, camp has been great. There are now photographers on staff who happily snap photos all day long and occasionally hand off their SD cards to other happy people who then upload the photographs to a private website so you can see how happy your kids are and how much fun they're having.


Also, if you happen to have the kid who requests lots of extra face paint on the first night, don't worry about it. It's simply a sign that you have adequately taught her how to self-advocate. Seriously.

The pictures are a modern-day godsend for people like me.

When I say people like me, I am referring to those former-campers who, after the 2nd day of Girl Scout camp in the bottom of some random canyon somewhere in the Panhandle, decided they were miserable hanging out with strangers, doing strange things, singing strange songs, and dodging the fierce, venomous, leaping, vengeful tarantulas in the midst of their angst in the morning dew.

People who 'accidentally' dropped their toothbrush into the depths of the port-a-potty thinking that was enough to get them sent home...

People who falsely claimed they were vomiting blood in said port-a-potty...

People who used their limited medical knowledge at the tender age of ten to fake anything possible to get out of the last 2 days of camp (which was a bit difficult without the ET-esque thermometer and accompanying lamp as a heat source)...

What can I say? Being introverted is a real thing, and apparently it starts early.

It makes me beam to see that the girls are hanging out together even when they don't really have to, it makes me smile to know they each have a sweet friend with them at camp, and it makes me happy that I can see their smiling faces online when I can't see them in person.

But nothing, and I do mean nothing, made me smile quite as much as the latest from The Bloggess. If you have a kid at camp right now or if you have a kid going to camp later this summer and you've got a case of the blues, just pour yourself an extra large glass of wine, kick your feet up, and read her take on camp.

It's magical.

I promise.

Wad-a-lee-acha and plenty of peace...

(and a doodly doo for good measure!)

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