Camp Part One: Let the Packing Begin
Camp Part Two: The Drop Off
Camp Part Three: Letters
Camp Part Four: Pick Up Day
Well ... I decided it's time for another installment.
Camp - The Prequel: The Guilt Trip
For the past 7 (?) summers, I've dutifully made the 1.5 hour drive to camp (2+ hours if you include the wait to actually get through entrance once you approach camp). I've set up my daughter's bunk while she's off having a hugfest with her friends, and I've searched the grounds to say goodbye to her when my 20 minutes of unpacking were over, hoping to get an emotional and teary embrace, only to get a slight hug and peck with a "see ya" before getting back in the car for the 1.5 hour drive home. It's a good time.
|photo credit: Scott Ableman via photopin cc|
In all honesty, I really don't mind. I enjoy seeing her face light up as we get close to the entrance & I love the sound of the squeal she makes when she sees one of her friends that she hasn't seen since the previous summer. The excitement in the air is always contagious.
This year however, I'm not able to make the trip, and I've had horrible guilt about it. I sat my daughter down the other day to let her know.
"You're not going?"
"But, who's going to make my bed?"
You know that sound you hear when a record suddenly comes to a screeching halt? Insert that here.
Not - I'm going to miss our final bonding moments, Mommy. Nope. So I had to make sure I heard her correctly.
"You want me to drive 3 hours to put a sheet on your bed?"
"Yes, I can never get it to stay on. The mattresses there are weird."
"Huh." I just— I didn't— So I responded the only way I knew how:
"You know I'm going to write a blog post about this." Yup - Guilt gone.