Category Archives: Summer camp

My three children are privileged to enjoy several weeks away at summer camp each summer.  While my daughter spends two weeks at girls’ camp, her older brothers enjoy 4 consecutive weeks at a boys’ camp.  If my daughter holds true to her affirmation (and her father and I can afford it), I will be without kids for 4 weeks next summer as she intends to stay for a month as well.  Each year I am repeated asked how can I bear to be without them for so long?  Our decision to build a cottage with no kids to fill it for 4 weeks each summer is continually questioned as well.   Truthfully, as all parents can agree, there is no way I can fill their summer days.  Our two weeks at the cottage each summer is glorious but there are another 7 weeks to tackle each summer.  When you subtract the weekends, I still have about 40 summer days to plan for without resorting to xBox, Facebook and Rogers On Demand.  At the end of the day, their summer camp days amount to 30 days of 365.  Believe me, the kids seem to multiply on the days we ARE at the cottage, so I think I’m coming out even!

I suppose some might see me as a bad mother that I cannot provide a summer of reading books under shady trees, swinging tires over lazing streams, and daily outings to local fun spots.  However, the camps we have chosen for our children permit no electronics and have neither electricity nor running water in their cabins or tents (while my youngest is in a cabin, the two boys spend the entire month in a tent).  Their month is filled with activities that help them with leadership, confidence and physical challenges beyond what I am capable of providing.  My eldest wrote me recently about his 5-day canoe trip through Algonquin Park with nine other 14-year-olds and 2 counselors.  I am not alone among my friends who would answer, “Glad I didn’t have to do that!”  My other son learned how to use a cross bow and enjoyed jumping off a 50ft cliff (I couldn’t watch either let alone encourage him).  My daughter listened to tales of a self-professed hippie how now bring refurbished guitars to teen runaway centres.  Each of my kids will each return with new and differing achievement levels in swimming, canoeing, archery, cross-bow, wind surfing, ropes courses, climbing walls, camp triathlons, fitness, pottery, painting, long distance swims, horseback riding, among others.  They will take turns clearing their table and sweeping out the tent.  Each day they rise at 7am to communal morning swims and flag raisings.  Every evening they bid each other good night in communal song.  Each Sunday they participate in outdoor nondenominational services and once a week they will sort their clothes to be laundered.  They will try and fail at some challenges, but persevere and succeed at much more.  Though their personal hygiene will no doubt suffer, their personal friendships will prosper.

This is my seventh season of camp preparations, and as I still come to grips with the loneliness of kid-free summer weeks – empty-nest syndrome training (hence, ENST), my husband quips – my standing answer to anyone who questions my parenting on this matter is “I know… I’m jealous too!”

My entire life I’ve been jealous of friends who went to summer camp.  I wish I could have gone to summer camp.  Going to summer camp seems like the uber ultimate:  being away from your parents, communal living and dining with other kids your age with similar interests and camp counselors to cater to your every emotion and activity.  My own kids go to summer camp.  My daughter recently returned from her annual camp odyssey and I am overjoyed to have her back in my clutches.  I laughed and hung on to every word as she spent the entire three and a half hour car ride home regaling camp stories and singing songs about forging friendships, smoldering campfires and canoe paddles, clean and bright.  I even tried to memorize a few to sing along and pretendI know about the amazing experience from which she’s just returned.  So while she gorged herself on homey treats she was temporarily denied (TV, computer, iPods and ice cream), I tackled her duffle bag – not so clean and bright.  As I listened to her cheerful singing, I couldn’t help pen my own little camp song….

 The Camper’s Return(to the tune of Camptown Races)

My child is home from camp today
Do da do da
Seems not so long she went away
Oh de do da day.

Can’t let her in the house
With feet as black as can be
Hose her down out in the yard
Until her skin, we see.

Then incinerate those socks
Do da do da
Trim those nails and those matted locks
Oh de do da day 

What happened to her shoes?
What happened to her hair?
Where are her toothbrush and her comb?
She doesn’t seem to care.

Her missing clothes were labeled well
Do da do da
And what on earth’s that dreadful smell?
Oh de do da day

“Where’d you get these pants?
Where’d you get this shirt?”
Not sure if I’ll find her yet
‘Neath layers of Algonquin dirt”

…only 14 more days for me to come up with a new diddy when her brothers come home… 

Happy trails.