Of campers and camp-moms
After two summers (and two March Breaks) of longing to be old enough to join her big brother at camp, C finally got her wish today.
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Two lunchboxes, two backpacks, two containers of sunscreen, two hats, two changes of clothes, two windbreakers. Two kids officially camp-bound.
I dropped them off, rushed back home, and went straight into the office to work. I wrote and edited and emailed steadily, without having to keep one ear open for them. Without having to break up fights or suggest new activities or roust them back up to their rooms. Without having to feel guilty for working.
They won’t go every day, all summer (although from D’s enthusiasm and C’s beaming recount of the details, they would love to).
But they will go enough to help out our we-don’t-have-childcare any-more situation.
They will be enough to (hopefully) help me get shit done and then be able to enjoy my free time without worrying about work as much.
I’ve been battling The Sads lately and generally in a funk, which in turn makes me feel like I’m being impatient and/or cranky and/or not-fun around the kids. Not a good place to be, when it feels like the world is on vacation slash cheersing at a BBQ slash having the best summer of their lives.
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But today has been a good day. It feels good to carve out specific work-time that doesn’t make me feel torn or guilty about the kids. It feels good to know the kids are thoroughly enjoying their time at camp. It feels good to have a couple of fun things with friends on our agenda.
Yes, I’m dealing with not-happy situations in one part of my life, but I’m tired of letting it creep into all aspects of my life. I’m going to start trying to choose happiness.
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