I've been looking forward to today for a long time because it's the day/night of the optional sleepover at the girls' camp (known now and forever more as The Best Camp EVER). Would they do it? And if they did, what would WE do? After all, we haven't been in the house overnight without the kids since the day we brought the twins home from the hospital. A strange prospect.
By the end of the first day of camp on Monday, they had all made up their minds. "Oh, we're doin' it," they said. "For sure, for sure!" Still, I doubted. Lea has been known to weep and vomit and leave the world's most heartbreaking voicemail messages when the SU and I are out at the movies. Sometimes she will wake up in the middle of the night and lead me to her room saying only the following two sleep-slurred words: "Want Mama."
But this morning, all of them remained resolute. When we arrived at camp loaded down with sleeping bags and other assorted sleep paraphernalia, Risa and Vida hugged me fiercely and were off running. Lea stayed put. "Can you stay for awhile?" she asked. Frankly, I wanted to stay forever. "Can you watch us play chaos tag?"
"No, I can't," I said. It was terrible. I had to force a smile when all I wanted to do was cry. And I had to make it sincere because I could see the panic creeping into her eyes. Oh, oh, oh, it was so terrible. "Look, all the other parents are leaving now. It's time for you guys to have fun."
"Oh...kay." she said. She gave me a big hug and kiss, which I cut off early because I didn't want our good-bye to seem like a dramatic farewell. She turned towards one of the new friends she's made, and they started to discuss whether or not to join the chaos tag.
"See you tomorrow!" I said quickly. And then I ran. I ran past one of the program managers who, though only 20-years old, is a wise owl. He followed me.
"It's okay," he said. "She can sleep with Risa and Vida in Camp B, if she wants."
"Really?" I said. I put on my sunglasses because I did not want a 20-year-old, wise or no, to see me on the verge of tears.
"Yeah, it's totally fine. Do you want me to tell her?"
"Only if she starts to get upset."
"Okay, I'll do that," he said.
I wanted to throw my arms around him and declare my undying love and gratitude, but that seemed a little extreme. Instead, I drove home, fretting.
The good news is that I finally figured out what I'm going to do tonight: I'm going to see if I can make tomorrow come a little faster.
1 comment:
Folks chose to comment via Facebook. For my own archival purposes, I'm cut and pasting:
Jill: I hope they have a great night and you do, too.
Bec: Oh man, I know where you're coming from, especially since we both seem to react adversely to the 'outdoors.' :) I'd tell you to do all the stuff they tell you your supposed to do, but you know all that. Just know that up here, where we've done a summer of overnighters before, that really, you love your kids. And they know that.
Marissa: You'll be fine, and they will be too. After all the apples don't fall far from the tree.
Joyce: Oh man, now I want to go and get her!!
Ver: Thanks you guys. It's 11:50, so I'm sure they're all sleeping soundly by now. They are directly under the stars and so now my only worry is...coyotes, ticks, rabid deer, west nile virus, etc. etc. ad nauseum.
Jean: so while 'su' and i watched sytycd, you were across the room fretting? i am so insensitive. i should have made you cocoa. :)
Ver: Cocoa and a sedative!
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