Maybe I’m doing something right after all

2 Aug

To properly understand what I have to say today you have to have read yesterday’s post. If you haven’t, click here and give it a gander, then come right back.

I’ll wait…

Now that you understand what kept me awake last night and actually had my stomach in knots as soon as I got about a mile away from camp, let’s move on. In the past twenty four hours I learned a lot about that son of mine.

I learned that he’s a lot stronger than I’ve ever given him credit for and I learned that he’s a lot stronger than I ever was as a kid. Hell, he’s probably even stronger than I am now. If what happened to him yesterday had ever happened to me I would have never gone back. I would have cried and begged my mother to let me drop out of camp. I would have faked an illness. I probably would have thrown myself down a flight of stairs if all else had failed. The one thing I would not have done would have been to ever show my face at camp again.

Not my Cameron! He walked into camp with excitement once again in his tone and a bounce in his step. He announced his arrival with a big, “HI!” to everyone who was there. He didn’t shy away, and he certainly didn’t beg to never go back. So somewhere, at some time, I must have done something right to have him shrug it off and move on. He didn’t dwell on it, or really even give it a second thought. I’d like to think that somehow I helped him be like that, but really, who knows?!?

Today started out to be a much better day. As I checked him in I apologized to the counselor who was stuck with the duty of cleaning my kid up and I thanked him profusely for taking such good care of Cameron. He reassured me that it wasn’t a big deal and that everything was ok. It was really like he knew all the right words to make me feel better about sending Cameron to camp and about my shortcomings as a mother. I could have kissed him when he told me that Cameron is a “cool kid”, and continued on about how friendly he is. Oh thank God! At least if he thinks my kid is a pain in the ass he said the exact opposite.

At pick up time I was anxious to see how the day had gone and a little nervous that it had been as disastrous as yesterday. The one counselor caught me at the door and asked me about Cameron’s swimming abilities and if they should let him retake the test to go down the slide. I told him the truth; Cameron has a ton of confidence, but his skill level isn’t quite there yet. I told him to retest Cameron, but if he doesn’t pass it’s ok, at least he tried. If my seven year old nephew hasn’t passed it, I’m not sure Cameron will, but let the kid try.

I walked in the room to get him and he was playing a game with some other kids. As soon as he saw me the beginnings of a tantrum started. I won’t go into all the gory details, but ten minutes later I was dragging him screaming to the car. Day two of camp and day two of mommy being mortified at something her kid has done. By the end of the two weeks, they are going to be happy to see us go and I will have found a rock to hide myself under.

I totally get where the tantrum came from…He was EXHAUSTED and he had so much fun he didn’t want to go. I just wish he’d control himself a little better and use worlds instead of starting these fits. I expect the temper tantrums from Logan, he’s two, but five he should be able to express himself a little better. No? Of course we tortured him further by taking him to his soccer practice tonight, which was also an adventure. I’m pretty sure as I write this he is out cold, just ten minutes after going to bed.

This afternoon as I watched the clock and anxiously awaited pick up time I had this whole beautiful post about what a great kid Cameron is and how strong and courageous he is floating around in my head. Sure that’s here too, but most of it evaporated as soon as the temper flared.

Looks like I’m going to have my work cut out for me when the school year starts…Stay tuned for that!

Disclaimer: We are not Florida Marlins fans, that was his t-ball team and is the ONLY reason he has the hat. 

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