I was moderately prepared for 4 days and 3 nights, but he texted late on the 3rd night that he would be gone another day. It was his birthday "weekend", so, kudos to him - but - I really, really missed him.
"Is it hard dealing with the boys yourself?" my Mom asked.
No. The boys were great. It was that I missed my husband - I missed my best friend. And, where he was had horrible cell service so phone calls and texting were extremely limited.
And, yes, the single parenthood thing is exhausting. I couldn't go to the gym. I couldn't participate in my weekly bike ride group. I got to have a fabulous (sarcasm, folks) "boy body" discussion with my boys.
I had to handle Monday, by myself.
This week is the ONE week that my eldest son goes to camp this summer. Before school was out, he was adamant that he attend the JA Biz Town summer camp. JA Biz Town is a program in the public schools, and my son enjoyed it so much, that he was determined to go to their camp this summer.
Me, being more uncertain about him attending a non-school related camp, was much less determined. I procrastinated on registering, in the hopes he would just forget about it.
He didn't.
So, I figured out a week that we would be around, and signed him up. There was a lot of paperwork. I am always unsure of how much to share about my often challenging son. He had a great school year, and was doing so well, I erred on the side of positive optimism and mentioned that he could get upset and would need a quiet space, if so. That's about it.
You know where this is going.
Yesterday was the first day of camp. No husband at home. The day started with two tired, cranky kids, "Why do we have to get up so early? I didn't realize we would have to get up so early! I don't want to go!"
I can do this.
The drive to Charlotte is 26 miles. It took 1 1/2 hours. By the final 30 minutes, the language out of my mouth was most definitely R-rated.
I hate driving. I have driving if the sun is shining. I hate driving in unfamiliar places. I hate traffic.
For my son? I can do this.
This drive took 90 minutes, in traffic, in a torrential downpour. By the time we arrived at camp, I was ready to rent a hotel room for the week, just so I wouldn't have to drive again.
In an effort to not do this drive more than once a day, I had planned out awesome activities for me and 8 year old son. Unfortunately, 80% of the planned activities were outdoors. Mother nature had other plans. Mmmwwwahhhhh. So, we ended up at Ray's Splash Planet (indoor water fun). We managed to get in one hour before everyone had to exit the pool. Who knew there was a no swimming policy during thunderstorms? Now you know.
So, we hopped in the car, and headed out for lunch. Again, in a torrential downpour.
And what is up with city driving?? Streets in Charlotte are insane. Every other street is ONE WAY, except when it isn't, and you can only go straight. And streets that I couldn't make a left down in the morning, were suddenly left turn only?
And parking? I spent my children's college funds to park for 3 hours in Charlotte.
I can do it. Right? It will be okay. I don't want to do it though. I am hating every second of being in Charlotte, of trying to figure out the streets, of trying to find parking. . .
Then, the camp calls. "Can we talk about your son?"
Why? Why can't I just drop him off and have it all be okay?
When I finally pick up my son at 3pm, he gets in the car and doesn't say anything. Fifteen minutes (and 4 wrong turns later) on our drive home, he says, "Camp was good. I really like the teacher."
oooookay?
Then, at 6pm, as I am preparing dinner, sans the husband still. . .the phone rings. Caller ID - it's the camp. "Can we talk about your son again?"
At this point. I am ready to cry.
As we sit down to dinner, and I am completely ready to say, "I can't" to the rest of this week.
I tell my son about my conversations with the race director. I am fully prepared for us to not return.
"I want to try again tomorrow. I can do it. I want to do this, " my son tells me, with tears in his eyes.
Deep breath. Mentally I am thinking, "I can't do this!" I am screaming this in my head, but I say, "Okay, let's do this."
Today, it takes 45 minutes to get to Charlotte. I drop off my son and return back home.
At noon, the camp calls, "Your son is having a great day!"
I feel myself exhale - a little.
The drive back to Charlotte for pick-up: 32 minutes.
At carpool, I see a grown-up walking my son towards the car. I quickly debate on staring straight ahead and pretending like I don't see her. Did the afternoon deteriorate? Did my son meltdown?
Please, just get in the car, and let's make a quick getaway. Maybe I can pretend to be the Nanny?
As my son climbs in the car he announces, "This is Ms. L and she has to talk to you."
Crap. I can't do it!
I roll down the window, prepared to explain how I am the Nanny. . .
"Hi,!" says Ms. L, "I don't HAVE TO talk with you, I just wanted to meet you because we've chatted so much."
Oh, well, in that case, big smile - and I am the Mom.
"Your son had a wonderful day. He did great!" She announced, and was just as excited as I was, and from the back seat, my son declared, "I did it. . .and I'll be back tomorrow!"
I'm so proud of my son. I am proud that he overcame his anxiety, and was determined to return to camp, even though I gave him an out. I am proud that he wanted to do it on his own, and that he turned the situation around. I am proud that he did it.
He can do it. So, I can too.
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