I never went to camp.
We dropped off my first born at sleepaway camp for the first time yesterday (just look at those views!!!). I was actually not very supportive of this venture but played along as mothers so often do. I knew in my head that it would be good for him. I knew in my heart it would be hard for me.
The house is still as I write. I’ve waited 10 years for some peace and now that I have it, I miss the din of little boys. Deal played so quietly today. He has been a tish forlorn but won’t admit he misses his brother. He remarked to me today that he worries Bird might forget he has a little brother at home.
Oh, my heart.
These boys of mine wrestle and flail and push buttons, yet they share moments of tenderness too. No camera is fast enough to capture it yet. But I know this to be true.
Deal fell asleep begrudgingly, missing the sounds of safety and comfort of his brother breathing in the bed next to him.
I wondered all day what was Bird was doing, what was he eating (he was outraged at the sight of white bread in the mess hall and worried the food would be bad…oh, this foodie child of mine). Is he making friends? Is he being thoughtful and kind? Are kids nice to him? Is he showering and brushing his teeth and changing his underwear everyday? An anal mother like me worries more than the average bear. OMG, are there bears?!
I know Bird is thriving. He is confident and ballsy in ways I am not at age 44. I envy this of him. Bird posed for the requisite photo, gave us hurried hugs, and darted off to frolic with his new friends. It’s exactly how the first day of kindergarten went. Except this time I didn’t cry.
That’s how it happened with us. Even though Fiona is three years younger than Jake, she’s always been more adventurous and was basically ready to go before he was, so three years ago they went away together for a week. At the end of that week they begged to stay longer. The next summer they went for six weeks…and at the end begged to go longer. 🙂