Kids’ Camp

Earlier this month, my eldest baby went to Kids’ Camp with our church. Alone. Like, without a mommy.

I was against the idea from the beginning. Jake REALLY wanted to go. And Hubby really wanted to let him go. When he first came home from church begging to go, I just smiled, patted him on the head and said a little prayer that he’d forget all about it. Quickly. I remember looking at Darrin like, NO WAY, and him looking back at me and shrugging like, WHY NOT?

Gasp!

NO!

HE’S A TINY BABY!

Who will make sure he eatswellwipeshisbutttakesashowermakesfriendsobeyshisleadersgoestosleepbrusheshisteethrememberswherehetookhisshooesoffhangsuphiswetstuff??????

Well, WHO?

Then Hubby went and signed him up for camp, two days before camp started, without a word to me.

So, I was forced to accept and embrace the idea within a span of two days.

The morning I dropped him off at the church for camp was worse than his first day of kindergarten for me. HE WAS SO EXCITED and I was a nervous, idiotic wreck. I made him practice carrying his backpack and sleeping bag/pillow around the house before he left so that I could assure myself he could carry it all from the bus to the cabin by himself when he got there. We practiced brushing our teeth and spitting because this was his first experience with real tooth paste, not the toddler kind you can swallow. I packed and then made him repack his bag so that he knew where everything was and where everything went. I reminded him to hang up his wet stuff and put his dirty clothes in the plastic bag I’d tucked in there.

He immediately climbed onto the bus and sat with his best friend (who he’s been best friends with since they were babies together. THEY ARE STILL JUST BABIES!) After I stood outside the bus blowing kisses and making faces at him for five minutes, I motioned for him to get off the bus to give me another hug. As he began bounding down the steps he stopped and turned to his friends and said, “I have to get off the bus for a minute, my mom needs to hug me.”

And then I left. ‘Cause I was getting choked up. WHAT?

But everything was going to be okay, you know why? Because he is eight years old. He’s not a tiny baby. And his best friend’s parents were going to be there the whole time. And his kindergarten teacher’s husband was his counselor, and the kids’ pastor’s wife was going to keep me posted via Facebook messages and phone photos and because one of the girls on Hubby’s basketball team was going to be there and make him call me every night.

This was the first photo I received. Lunch on the first day. He later told me that all the food was gross so he only ate bread and cake. When he called me that night he said, “Hi Mommy! I’m just calling to see if you’re okay.”

Sweetness and light. That’s what this boy is. Then he told me that he hung up his swimming shorts and wet towel like I told him but they weren’t by his bed because there was no good spot but it was SORT OF CLOSE to his bed so don’t worry.


This was the 2nd photo. Dinner on day two. (Notice he’s wearing the same clothes? Which, incidentally are his PJs). They had to do a silly lineup for dinner. More bread and cake.


This was taken before going home on the last day. Those are the tattoos he helped his team win and then applied to his arms and face.

When he came home at 10pm three days later, he was exhausted, excited and full of stories. He handed me an envelope with what was left of his snack shop money ($5.25 out of $10) which he didn’t use much of because they didn’t have anything healthy there. WHAT?

He laughed and pounded the table with his fist when he told me that he got to shower in the girls' bathroom because the girls’ dorms had their own showers. He admitted that he sometimes took longer than two minutes because it was SO WARM. When I asked if he used soap, he couldn’t remember.

As he sat before us, at 10:30 at night, regaling us with hilarious stories, he pounded two pieces of pizza and a yogurt because he was starving from living off bread and cake.

The important thing is, he had the time off his life. And he made it through. He came home smelly and hungry but SO HAPPY. I survived, by the grace of God, and I think it’s good sometimes for a tired stay-at-home mommy of three to have a reason to miss her babies.