Sleep Away Camp

Camp Anawanna - Salute Your Shorts

If you had asked me anytime before M started Boy Scouts who I thought would go to sleep away camp first, I would have said E. D just isn’t interested in that sort of thing, and frankly, I never would have thought M would be either, albeit for different reasons. E; E is my social butterfly. Sometimes Life surprises me.

My amazing, fabulous, even though he is sick and didn’t want to get up, husband just packed up the boy and left for the drop off location. M is headed to Virginia for the next week. Yep. Not even near by sleep away camp. Freaking thousand mile away sleep away camp. Why no, I haven’t had a panic attack yet, why do you ask?

I finished getting his stuff packed yesterday. Days worth of complete outfits. Towels. Swim shorts. Soap. Extra shoes. (I wound up sending my running shoes. Why? Because what eleven/almost 12-year-old has more than one pair? None of mine, that’s for sure.) Water shoes. Mess kit. Pillow. Camp chair. This list just keeps on going. Let’s not forget the two loaves of Udi’s bread because they couldn’t totally satisfy his diet. And the GF muffins for breakfast. Because someone felt that handing out Honey Buns to two busses full of boys was going to be a good idea.

If my biggest problem this week is cringing at the thought of what he is eating, I’m ahead of the game. I have a safety net that some of the adults going are the same ones who see and work with him at scout meetings. They more or less know his limitations and what to expect, and know that I expect the world of him and he usually comes pretty close to delivering. (I’ve been told I need to lower my bar, but I’ve always operated under the system that if I expect my kids to succeed, and believe that they can, they generally do. Why expect any less?)

I can’t wait until he gets back. I told him I probably won’t recognize him, he’s gonna grow a foot. He told me his belly is going to collapse in and that’s why I won’t recognize him and I laughed and said so you’re going to get stretched this week? I’m picturing Mike TeeVee from Willy Wonka. I can’t wait to hear a weeks worth of stories and excitement. A weeks worth of learning new skills, everything from inter-personal skills to independent skills to whatever merit badges he opted to take (and it was a kind of weird assortment on top of the required ones). A week of no therapy. No anything except being a normal, neuro-typical kid, and I suspect it will do him some good. Like I said, I expect nothing less of him, and treat him the same as the other kids, but sometimes, you just see them and go yep, something is a little different there. I’m super stoked that he’s going to have the same experience with kids from his troop who know him and he’s just M, ya know?

E heads off to a Girl Scout weekend sleep away on Friday, but hers is just around the corner. We are equally as excited as M’s week away. I think she’s  planning to pack just as much junk too. I’ll have some food to send her way as well. They are insisting it’s “one step about roughing it” and all they can provide is cereal and milk and just crap for meals. I’m like, one step above roughing it is a cast iron pan and a campfire! That’s bacon and eggs! They disagree. Ok, Michael had this discussion with whoever he phoned, but seriously, don’t tell us roughing it is cereal and milk. In a bowl. With a spoon. I have a week to sort that out at least.

It’s a summer of growing up over here in my corner of the world. The bigger my kids get, the more impressed I find myself being with them.

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