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Campfire's Buring, Campfire's Burning

In an effort to ensure I never get chosen as Mother of the Year, I allowed my 9-year old to go camping with friends. She's been camping with them once before; albeit a short, weekend trip just about an hour's drive away. This time they were headed up north. Over five hours away. For a week. A full week.

I dropped her off on Friday evening with plans they would be leaving bright and early Saturday morning for Land o' Lakes, Wisconsin. Did I mention it's over five hours away? Anyway, she called me last night, sobbing. They had decided to stay longer and wouldn't be home until Sunday. She begged me to please just promise to come pick her up. You know, over five hours away.

She's my baby; of course I promised.

But I didn't actually have an address. Should mom's get the actual address of where their child will be residing for seven days? Perhaps I should have.

And also, perhaps I should have said no to the whole camping bit. Why? Because this is the kid that freaks out if her ice cream isn't smooth and rounded. It's my job to teach her that she has the ability to work through her irrational panics and anxieties and fix things herself. For instance, if someone scoops ice cream with a regular old spoon in a scraping off the top skin motion she can use her utensil to shape the ice cream into a rounded scooped out shape conducive to eating.

See, I know this about my child. I know she has quirks. I know she has expectations. I know she has all these hang ups that make any other normal person go what is her problem? The explanation is simple: this is just what makes her tick.

So what kind of mother to a child like that says, Sure! Go camping with another family that does pretty much everything different for seven days! Have fun with your world all turned upside down and inside out and have fun coping with all those unknowns. See ya in a week, kid!

I feel like I set her up for failure.

Especially since she's signed up for Gymnastics Camp on Sunday. (Yes, the same Sunday they are now returning on.) Although it's a short sports camp only fifteen minutes away, it is still an overnight camp. Why yes, I just allowed my daughter to spend a week camping with friends the week before she goes away for camp. I suck at this.

And, yes, I will be going to pick her up. But not until Thursday. See, I know this about her, too. She needs to have a clearly defined goal. I explained I could get her but needed to ask my boss what day I could take off work, which turned out to be Thursday, so if she could wait until Thursday I would pick her up. And she was okay with that.

For now.

Comments

Ellen said…
I would have done the same thing...live and learn for all of us.
Johi said…
Maybe things will get better by Thursday and she will have learned some new coping mechanisms.... or just make sure you have here favorite treat in the car to soothe her on the way home. :)
Johi said…
...like spam fried in butter?

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