I'm Baaaaaaack!

My week at camp sped by lightning fast; I can hardly believe I was there and back, even tho I'm bone tired and mentally whipped from the chaos of the past few days.

It seemed like every time I gave myself the slightest opportunity to relax, some life-threatening emergency (or seemingly life threatening emergency...) was unfolding before me:

A late night anaphylaxis (or head cold, as I soon discovered; but the poor kid still almost got epi-penned by his traumatized counselor before he was dropped off at the Nurse's station-- wahoo!), an early morning bloody mess (is it ever appropriate to apply makeup before dashing out the door to get a kid off for stitches? While the thought crossed my mind, noooo...... I only applied a haphazard smear of lipstick before running out with my first aid kit), and an evening mystery accident involving an embarassed pre-teen boy, 3 different versions of what occurred, and a gaggle of crying counselors.

It was a relatively quiet camp, tho, with only 120 kids and 124 different medications (some given up to 4 times a day! Better living thru chemistry, I guess... poor little critters. What makes a parent put their 10 year old on 4 different psych meds? A wild parenting fantasy gone amuck? SPS {Stupid Parent Syndrome}?)

As usual, my assistant was incredibly helpful; God bless the fresh, uncluttered mind of youth. That girl has saved me from embarassment more times than I can count, considering she can remember not only the daily schedule but kids' names, medication times and the last thing our boss told me to do 15 minutes ago.

I have to tell you, though: for all it's foibles, camp is the greatest job I've ever had:

I have a dinky quarters to keep for my very own (easy to keep clean, and no one to care if I don't), a private bathroom, my own office, beautiful surroundings, delicious meals I only have to *show up* for-- and best of all, the peace of mind knowing my kids are off having a fantastic time with new friends and adult role models, doing things I could never expose them to due to lack of time, funds, or ability. Plus, there's nary a couch or computer game to be found, and I'm hoping the repetitive busy-ness will drive the urge to vegetate from their DNA. I also greatly enjoy the daily reminder that my kids are low on the Goofy Kid spectrum, and that I am only *marginally* on the SPS list, in the grand scheme of things.

I survived, my kids survived (Jacob had a wicked case of "I'm not eating enough fiber", if ya know what I mean...)-- and sans a broken collarbone, 6 stitches, and 3 cases of pink eye, everyone else survived as well. Halleulah!