CAMP

It’s been a little tough filling my HamannEggs quota because the boys have been at sleep away camp the last two weeks. Two loooooong weeks. The house has been disturbingly quiet without the pitter patter of screaming little feet. It’s been compounded by the fact we receive almost zero communication from Elijah and Luca, except for THE WORST CAMP NOTE IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD. Which I’ll get to in a bit.

The days leading up to camp were fairly easy. I was on packing duty, which I realized was my calling in life. Checking off lists? Folding? Placing things in bags, and then putting those bags into larger bags? I find myself getting a little aroused just writing about it.

Elijah was pretty Elijah about leaving for camp. Floppy haired and easy going. That’s his way. However, dark clouds approached in Lucaland. Those nervous, anxiety ridden genes I donated 9 years ago cracked their knuckles and said, “Let’s do this.” 

The night before drop off, Luca couldn’t sleep. He was too nervous. That about the swim test? What if his cabin mates were jerks? What if he got ticks? What if the food was bad? What if he couldn’t sleep? What if an asteroid hit the camp? WHAT ABOUT THE SWIM TEST?

I tried my best to calm him using bits and pieces I’ve picked up in my search to calm my own gurgling anxiety. Little bits of Psych 101, A smidgen of Zen, a little talking it out. I gave him all my tools except Bourbon, which we all know is the real secret. Eventually he drifted into a fitful sleep.

We decided to wake up extra early because camp drop off is a nightmare. 4 million kids cramming into 7 buses with no rhyme or reason. And 8 million parents getting in the way. Luca took one look at this chaos and his lower lip stuck out in an uncontrollable and exaggerated pout.

I grabbed Eli by the shoulders. “You HAVE to help your brother. I know he drives you nuts, but he’s scared and sad and you need to step up and big brother this. Your goal is to sit with him on a bus, any bus. Even the ‘Peanut Free Bus.’ There is a zero percent chance Luca will get bullied on the ‘Peanut Free Bus.’”

Eli immediately got separated from us.

We finally got everyone back together and to a bus entrance. Luca was in near hysterics. Tears streamed down his face. His little lower lip quivered and he kept turning around to hug Diana and I to cry. My emotional system completely shut down and I stood there muttering, “Everyone…on..the..bus. Busses…on…get.”

Once we reached the bus entrance, the helpful camp counselor cheerfully said, “Bus is full everybody! Go find a new one!” This reminded me of John Candy’s character in “National Lampoon’s Vacation.” “Sorry folks. Park’s closed. The moose out front shoulda told ya.”

We got into the next bus line and once we made it to the front, another cheerful counselor said, “Sorry folks. Park’s closed. The moose out front shoulda told ya.”

By the time we got to the third rejection, Luca had lost all pretense of keeping his sh*t together. He just went into full panic mode. He approached the fourth bus like a cat being thrown into a tub full of ice water. Eli dragged him on with look that said, “Gee thanks Mom and Dad. I can’t wait for this 5 hour drive sitting next to a plate of Jell-O.”

Diana and I went home and immediately wrote to Luca. There’s a little portal where you can type and email and the campers respond with a hand written note. We expected a note back saying, “Hey Mom and Dad! Camp is great. I have lots of friends. I’ve been voted King of Camp. I am now proficient in archery, wallet making and have gotten to first base twice.” Nope. His note, written in the hand of a hostage, spoke of sleepless nights, crying, fear and loathing.

To make matters worse, he refused to write us back after several pleading attempts from Diana. He also received all my passive aggressive DNA.

Eventually, we got a note that revealed he was, in fact, having fun. Thank the Camp Gods.

We also received a note from Eli saying he would not be writing us notes.

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