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A Camping We Will Go!
One Mother's Journey Back to Camp By Jenn Director Knudsen
She devoured her first s'more, and she even went on her first corral ride (donning helmet and boots to do so). She also slid, squealing with glee, down a makeshift slip-n-slide into a freezing again, fetid estuary until I told her we had to stop. (Did I mention sand got into every orifice?)
There was time designated a little each morning and again at night for moms only. And that was precious time for Mom and me and the other mothers there. It was time carved out just to be an adult and befriend other women on those terms.
And even though I looked forward to and cherished that adults-only time, I found myself yearning during it to be with my daughter, my big-girl camper. So cute with her sun-kissed nose and stubborn granules of sand between her toes. Sound asleep in her pink-and-purple sleeping bag adorned with Belle, Cinderella and Snow White.
About three days into our four-day stay, Alyssa started asking after her little sister, her daddy and her big-girl bed. And my chocolate cravings reached a fever pitch. I was ready to go home, too, and indulge in a real meal, a real night's sleep, clean clothes, a lengthy, hot, private shower and a sand-free body.
But also at that time, the realization hit me: My aunt was so prescient and so right. I again loved camp, now that I was experiencing it alongside and through my child. And I also hoped to do so when my youngest hits 3.
What a privilege to impart a kid's love of camp on a kid of my own and all the filth and lack of creature comforts that go along with being a camper. Months out from our experience, Alyssa is still talking about camp, and she does so with zeal. We plan to attend next summer, too (with my intrepid mother in tow, as well!).
But next year, I'm bringing chocolate.
