Here’s this week’s Smartmom from the Brooklyn Paper.
Sleepaway camp has really changed since the days Smartmom was a camper at various northeastern summer getaways.
As a kid, she went to camp for eight weeks every summer, a nice long
stretch of time to adjust to a change in scenery, a new cast of
characters and a healthy taste of self-reliance.
At the same time, Smartmom’s parents got a major vacation from being
parents. They came to visit on visiting weekend, took her out to lunch
and dinner and that was that. They had eight blissful weeks to
themselves.
Smartmom remembers crying her eyes out on the last day of her
favorite camp. She actually didn’t want to go home and it took a few
days to get back in the swing of things on the Upper West Side.
She never really found out what her parents did while she was away.
But she sort of assumed they weren’t exactly pining for her return.
So it was an even trade. Smartmom loved her time away at camp, and her parents loved their time to be alone.
While plenty of Park Slope kids go to camp for eight weeks, most
go away for two or four. Many parents don’t admit
to needing a vacation from their kids. That would be sacrilege: a form
of child abuse. Not wanting to be around your kids 24/7? Why, that’s a
sign of bad parenting.
But parents do need the break — and need to stop feeling guilty about it.
Since the beginning of July, Smartmom has run into more than a few
summer empty-nesters tooling around the Slope, having romantic dinners,
catching a first-run flick or just holding hands on a nighttime stroll
through the neighborhood (remember those?).
t’s not that these parents don’t miss their kids. It’s just that
they enjoy taking a break from being parents. Smartmom likes it
so much that she booked a week at the Sea Breeze on Block Island to
revel in alone time (she takes a break from Hepcat, too).
Smartmom was lucky that Hepcat was willing to stay home to supervise Teen Spirit while she was writing fiction at the beach.
Some parents are clearly enjoying their kid-holiday, but some look
bereft. They miss their kids and can’t wait for their return. In a
sense, summer camp is empty-nest practice, a stage of life that
terrifies many. It’s as hard for some parents to be
away from their children as it is for their kids to be away from them.
But it’s not like you can’t e-mail your kid as many times a day as you want. At the Oh So Feisty One’s camp, parents can e-mail their kids on a password-protected Web site. The kids, however, cannot e-mail back.
Whatever happened to sending a heartfelt letter or postcard? I miss you. Please write. Hope you’re having fun.
The problem with e-mail access is that Smartmom feels remiss if she
doesn’t send OSFO one, two, even three electronic updates a day (after
all, The Brooklyn Paper is now posting news stories every single day!).
Smartmom can just imagine the dining hall debacle. Some kid gets pages
and pages of e-mails. Poor OSFO looks up hopefully. “Nothing for you,
kid. Sorry.”
It just breaks Smartmom’s heart.
And it’s not just e-mail. Nowadays, you can literally obsess over
your child’s experience in camp. Some camps post photos on the camp Web
site. Other camps actually have a video camera in the dining hall.
Smartmom has to admit that she spent way too much of her alone time
on Block Island checking to see if there was a picture of OSFO on her
camp’s Web site. When she couldn’t find something for days, she
considered calling the camp and telling the organizers to put something
there. Or else.
Finally, Smartmom found two photographs of her OSFO
participating in a camp-wide Olympics. From what Smartmom could tell.
OSFO looked very engaged and even (dare she say it?) happy.
It was a huge relief to see that picture. Especially as it came just a day after OSFO’s first letter arrived by snail mail.
“Dear Mom and Dad, I like camp — sometimes. I have to take swim classes and I really hate them. The food is bad!”
OSFO’s white stationery was covered in frowning faces. And in teeny
tiny letters near the bottom of the page it said, “I am kinda homesick.”
Talk about writer’s block on Block Island! Smartmom could barely
type a word after Hepcat read her that letter over the phone. Sure, the
letter was written on the second day of camp (what kid isn’t miserable
on day two?), but it certainly put a damper on Smartmom’s creativity
(insert Smartmom’s creativity joke here!).
When Smartmom got back from Block Island, she found another letter
in the mailbox. It was written a full four days after the last one. In
big block letters, OSFO wrote:
“NEVERMIND. Camp is fine.”
And there were loads of smiley faces.
Relief and happiness coursed through Smartmom’s veins. That night,
she and Hepcat spent their first night of freedom together. They tried
Park Slope’s new Five Guys Burgers and later had margaritas at the
Miracle Grill, where she saw some summer empty-nesters.
“Your kids are in camp?” she asked.
“Yes, but we just got a call that our youngest son is homesick,” the mom said. “We’re about to talk to him.”
She saw their cellphone on the table, and Smartmom felt a pang in her heart. She remembered that first letter from OSFO.
“Give it a few days,” she told her friends. “He’ll be fine.” And she
meant it. Before they know it, the kids will be back. Summer
empty-nesting season will be over and life as a family will resume.
Until next summer, that is. Might as well enjoy your romantic dinner for two.