The three middle kids (Rudy, Ava, and Casey--12,10, and 11 respectively) have been gone this past week at sleepover camps. I would have given my eye-teeth to go to summer camp in the long, boring days that ran together in my summer vacation.
I did get to go, a couple times, when I was older. (14 & 15) Then I was unappreciative because 1) I was a sullen teenager 2) I wanted to stay home and hang with my friends, all of whom could drive me to the mall 3)the camp I went to was more like a work-camp than anything else, and the "work" was waterskiing. I look back now, and it was a good way for my folks to keep me out of their hair and out of mischief. They could rely on someone else to keep vigil and make sure I wasn't sneaking out to meet boys. They could breathe a little easier.
That aside, I like sending my kids to camp. They get to do fun shit that would otherwise be foregone for XBOX360 or iCarly and other mindless television blather. The girls are going to YMCA camp at Camp Miller, which is my idea of a great time! Horseback riding AND swimming AND rock climbing AND arts and crafts? I almost wish I could pass for 13 or 14 and spend the $380 and send myself. Rudy's camp is more focussed. He plays hockey, trains for hockey, and does all kinds of hockey-related crap. Which is great if you love hockey like he does. That camp sounds like torture to me.
So today when they get home, I better hear some "thank-you"s and see some smiling faces. I want to hear about all the fun you had, you little ingrates! I want to live vicariously through you! I want to forget my week trapped with a rambunctious 3 year old, a barely potty-trained 2 year old, and a clingy infant in the high humidity 90s. I want to forget that I had no day-care for this week. I want to GO to CAMP, DAMMIT!!!!
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