Dining with Squirrels

Another Swedberg milestone — and while this one may involve bugs, I won’t have to deal with them. Ben and Lucy are at overnight camp. I dropped them off yesterday afternoon for 4 nights at Camp Roger in Rockford, Michigan.

My mom and dad came with us because this is the same camp my mother attended in the 50s and she hasn’t seen it since! Over 55 years later, she says it’s much the same: heavily wooded along Little Bostwick Lake, sandy paths from cabin to cabin, the same dark brown mess hall no doubt serving the same creamed corn and chicken. As I bought a t-shirt for each kid at the Camp Store, she broke into a rousing rendition of the Camp Roger song, was joined by the woman behind the counter, and they sang all the verses. Seriously. If she denies this in the comments section, DO NOT BELIEVE HER.

When I suggested overnight camp to the kids back in March, they followed their personality-predetermined-pathways with dear devotion. Ben said “no way!,” then proceeded to debate it with himself — but out loud and close by of course — until he found out his cousins were also going, at which point he signed on directly. Lucy just signed on directly. We’ve talked and talked about it for the last five months, printing out activity lists from the camp website [archery! canoeing! braiding! leather crafts!] and watching videos and slideshows of happy hordes along the tender shores of Little Bostwick. I had to restrain Ben from packing back in May and spent a few bedtimes answering Lucy’s questions: “Where will you brush teeth at Camp Roger? Will you have to take a shower? Will they make me eat meat?” I did this all with the patience of Theresa of course.

Last week we started collecting supplies: flashlights, headlamps, sleeping bags, tiny bottles of shampoo that will no doubt return full as they went, piles of old clothes labeled with a Sharpie. I took the kids to their Aunt Camille’s bookstore [a darn fine children’s bookstore — check it out: www.poohscornerstore.com] to buy something for Bunk Time, which is the 45 minutes following lunch where the kids are supposed to have quiet time. This is when they receive emails from home and the candy they ordered the night before [oh yes, they order candy every night. this is a Selling Point]. This shopping trip also served as a personality test of sorts, as Lucy came away with a Rain Forest Activity Book with lots of sparkly pages that you can draw on and Ben came away with 4 books. He knows my soft spot, people. And if his counselors Sam and Kyle let him use that headlamp past Lights Out, he’ll have them all read before he returns home on Monday.

On the drive to camp, Ben writhed next to me [“Are you anxious?” Nod, nod, nod] until I handed him a book. Lucy just stared out the window. They just needed to get there, to move from anticipation to action, from unknown to suddenly known. By the time I had Ben’s sheet on his bed and had said hello to all his cabin mates [“MOM!! eye-rolling…] he was positively jumping to be rid of me. Did he hug me goodbye? I can’t even remember. He was GONE. As I put a sheet on Lucy’s bed and stowed her gear under her bunk, she proceeded to make friends with the girl above her and I left her in that girl’s top bunk, her face split in an enormous grin. Oh yeah, they’re going to miss me a LOT.

Karl and I went out to dinner last night and when we got home at 8pm [yeah, we’re still 41 and it’s still the midwest, even if the kids are Away], the neighbors were corralling the herds for bedtime. They all gazed at us with hungry expressions. “What’s it like?!…on the Outside?….” Ok, maybe not quite so hungry. But enough so I wanted to quick hustle in the house so as not to appear boastful. We’re going out for drinks on Saturday night and I’m hoping to see a movie.  If I can tear the Man away from the Computer, I’ll buy him some clothes at the mawl. This morning I had my nails done. And it’s all very luxurious.

Can I admit something? I miss them. I miss neighbor Noah at our door every morning at 9am sharp. I miss kids banging in and out of the house 20 times a day. I miss the funny things they say and the breathtaking pronouncements [Lucy in the car two days ago: “Mommy, if there was only one thing I could like, I would choose you.”] It’s not that I want them back this minute — look at me! I’m blogging! — but I’ll wake up with a spring in my step on Monday morning, ready to collect them, tired, filthy, crabby. Yum.