Took DD to church camp today--awful lonely
07-05-2010, 03:41 PM
#1
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Join Date: Feb 2010
Location: Illinois
Posts: 5,142
Yes, today I took DD and another girl from church to camp and dropped them off. DH went with us. I got them registered, in their dorm, beds made and banked their spending money then I thought it was time to say our goodbyes. They were so excited that they took off running to the dorm, I had to call them back just to say goodbye. When we got home the house seems so strange---really quite but different than when she's just out visiting a friend. I think I'm having withdrawal. I think I'm more homesick for her than she will be for us but I have to let her grow up sometime. At least I didn't cry all the way home like last year.
07-05-2010, 03:45 PM
#2
Google Goddess
Join Date: May 2009
Location: Central Indiana (USA)
Posts: 30,181
Hugs Hugs
you will be okay, just think all of the fun she is having, why don't you make her a special wall hanging or quilt for her so when she returns will have something very special from you to help keep your mind busy
you will be okay, just think all of the fun she is having, why don't you make her a special wall hanging or quilt for her so when she returns will have something very special from you to help keep your mind busy
07-05-2010, 04:41 PM
#5
Super Member
Join Date: Nov 2007
Posts: 9,688
Oh gosh--I remember this exact feeling. As a matter of fact, I captured itin words.... I'll go find it and paste it here so you know you're not alone in your feelings....
My girl is 20 and right here with me now. :-D
*****************
Karla Borglum Santoro
Camp. A month ago the word itself brought on instant indigestion. Heartburn has not been felt since pregnancy; but it had returned with another “letting go” experience. I dislike them greatly. They’re painful. I erroneously keep thinking after each one that they’re behind us for a few years. I never knew a mother could experience labor pains with a 10 year old.
It all started when friends, whose 10 year old daughter is a kindred spirit with my daughter, asked if the girls could go to camp together. No. Neither my brother, sister, nor I ever went to camp, and we turned out fine (fine is a broad term). That was simple, any other questions? Then the pestering began. How bad could it be if these friends, seemingly responsible adults, were willing to subject their treasured daughter to a week with literal strangers? At a very weak, and split second, moment, my husband and I agreed to this week of torture, for us—not her.
As soon as school was out and all my students were safe at home, I started what was supposed to be a relaxing few weeks. But, a doctor’s appointment was almost made after sudden painful heartburn woke me at 4:00 am two nights in a row. My stomach hurt. My husband said it must be delayed stress from school. But how stressful was I now, reading the first books of summer vacation? But after days of self-analyzing, I came to the conclusion the pain was a result of merely visualizing leaving my beloved girl at camp. I did what any rational mother would do, I called a friend to confirm what I thought: if it’s causing this much turmoil, she shouldn’t be allowed to go. But my friend didn’t agree. She thought my daughter would truly enjoy a camp experience. She thought she’d have fun. Of course, her daughter wasn’t signed up for camp. She said the problem was that I didn’t trust people to care for her properly. Bingo. It was also the time span of limited communication.
When she was outside out of earshot, I called the camp director to air my concerns. Can we escort them to their cabins and help them set up their bed? Yes. Now about the phone…. I did my best to explain that my baby had only spent two nights away before, and had called 4 times over that time period. How the heck was she supposed to make it for 5 nights/6 days?? The director, in a voice so calm it made me wonder how many times she had discussed this topic with parents, said we could make a time when she could call me. I assured her it wouldn’t be necessary to plan anything, I just needed to know it wasn’t out of the question. And if a kid wanted to come home? The child is put off for a bit to see if the feeling will pass, but then after another check if the feeling prevails, the child calls home to talk to Mom. After hanging up, I felt better. She had all the right answers.
My husband, deeply stuck in the daughter wrapped firmly around the Daddy’s finger phenomenon, expressed concerns in a vacillating pattern. First, he was going to miss her; second, if she has never been able to last more that 30 minutes in a tent in the backyard, how did we think she would ever make it in a cabin for 5 nights? Good thinking. But the next day he commented that he thought she’d be fine. So much for him refusing to allow her this unnecessary excursion.
I still had a powerful option: prayer. I prayed for a sign that she shouldn’t go. Anything would be taken as a sign. I then prayed for something to stop us from going, if there was any reason she shouldn’t go. Suggestions were offered, such as maybe she could suddenly develop a low-grade temperature, maybe she could decide that the idea was ridiculous and she could flatly refuse to go. A simple “Are you sure I should be doing this?” would suffice. I’d take anything. The result: all my stomach ailments disappeared, and the daughter’s enthusiasm increased as the departure day drew ever closer. I couldn’t find anyone on my side.
I decided to put my energies to positive use. I created long letters with extras for her to open each day she was away, drop off and pick up days included. Each two paged typed note contained a picture of her when she was little, with a “look how far you’ve come” note on the back. There were jokes, stickers, funny stories about her puppy, and even a note pad of hearts for her and her new friends to write down all the things they loved about camp. Each note was placed in an envelope; each envelope was labeled with a different colored marker. Then I bought special cards to mail her each day she was away, even mailing one before she left so she’d get one on DAY ONE. I was doing my best to send mother love in an envelope.
Special things were packed: journal, stamped addressed postcards, my sweatshirt because she’d read it helped campers if they had an article of clothing from their mothers, stamped addressed postcards, photos of her family and puppy, stamped addressed postcards.
I felt like the ultimate good sport the day I purchased all the necessary small stuff: toothpaste, etc. I even bought the raincoat and a waterproof flashlight.
Finally, the day came when the thought of her being away--with strangers--in a cabin-- with no lock--for an entire week, brought a feeling of excitement for her, rather than nausea. I was growing in my motherhood. It was a painful progress, but it was progress.
When the day came to deliver her to camp, it was hard to focus on anything. The family puttered around watching every five minutes pass.
When we arrived, her bosom buddy was already there. Indeed they were in the same cabin. Through the registration process ahead of us, the friend and her family, and my husband and son, scurried to the designated cabin to secure side-by-side cots. My daughter looked up and said, “It’s better than I thought!” I was doing okay. Eyes filled up and the chin quivered a bit, but I covered it well.
Once in the cabin I set about making my darling’s bed. I tucked and spread out the wrinkles. We unpacked a few things. The vivacious counselor asked us sincerely if there was anything we wanted her to know. My first thought was “Where do I begin? Do you realize I’m trusting you to care for one someone I can’t live without? Someone I love with all my being?” But, I simply clued her in the fact this was a very new experience for the whole family and I really had no idea if she’d be fine, or homesick. The counselor assured us she had many tricks for home sick campers (how about sick mothers?). Once my bed-making job was done, there was nothing else to do but make small talk. I felt the need to exit while I was still doing okay. She seemed ready for us to leave. Even her big brother gave her a hug (well, he sort of leaned on her affectionately). As my husband, son and I walked down the trail to the parking lot, I thought of more I should have said. I hadn’t introduced her to the Camp Director, what if she wants to call home? I turned to go back, but decided against planting bad seeds. Onward we walked. We shopped at the grocery store, and picked up subs for supper; just three, not four. I felt sort of empty, grayish, in a cloud, going through the motions. When we returned home, I raced to check the answering machine. No blinks, so far--so good.
Throughout the first days, there was a need to check the answering machine whenever we were out for even a few minutes, but by Tuesday, I decided she must be going to stay the week. I mailed a letter everyday I knew she’d still be there to get it. I called the post office on Tuesday to have them hold our mail, so I could pick it up earlier, but there was nothing. But, Wednesday there were two postcards (because she had run out of room on the first). Her note said she was having a “wonderful” time and the counselors were “really nice” and she had already made a new friend, and there was going to be a dance (they would all do their nails!), and they were “VERY” busy so a note could not have been sent sooner. I sighed deeply, she was happy. I read the note ten times. She was getting along without her parents; she hadn’t even needed to call. Wow. I tracked the days by “we get her in three days,” “just two more nights,” always looking forward to “today’s the day!”
Keeping busy was the key to my success. I washed her pillows, blankets, sheets. I ran her stuffed animals through the dryer for dedusting. Beanie Babies were juggled outside for freshening. Shelves were dedusted. Anything capable of hanging from a clothesline was pinned there for airing. Washing, sewing and gardening activities worked to keep me busy, but reading did not; I couldn’t quite settle to that degree.
By Thursday, the “we get to get Rachel tomorrow!” day, I had had enough of my girl being away. By evening I fought to keep the tears at bay. My husband, who had the day before shared that he thought the week was going quickly, even offered that he was feeling differently and was ready to get his baby home.
The whole family attended pick up day. How sweet it was! The anticipation to lay eyes and hands on my daughter was joyful. I couldn’t wait to hear how she was (she says camp was a 5 out of 10; all activities outside the cabin were awesome, but inside the cabin, a few mean girls made life a bit difficult) and to get her in the car heading home (I switched places with my son so he had the front seat and I sat in the back with my girl). I told my girl how proud I was of her. I didn’t want to let go of her. I don’t ever want to let go of her again. So much for progress, what I needed was a recovery period.
After a week I still think about surviving our first week of camp. I feel good, I feel strong. I think my kid’s moving to college, or getting married will be a piece of cake. Nah.
My girl is 20 and right here with me now. :-D
*****************
Karla Borglum Santoro
Camp. A month ago the word itself brought on instant indigestion. Heartburn has not been felt since pregnancy; but it had returned with another “letting go” experience. I dislike them greatly. They’re painful. I erroneously keep thinking after each one that they’re behind us for a few years. I never knew a mother could experience labor pains with a 10 year old.
It all started when friends, whose 10 year old daughter is a kindred spirit with my daughter, asked if the girls could go to camp together. No. Neither my brother, sister, nor I ever went to camp, and we turned out fine (fine is a broad term). That was simple, any other questions? Then the pestering began. How bad could it be if these friends, seemingly responsible adults, were willing to subject their treasured daughter to a week with literal strangers? At a very weak, and split second, moment, my husband and I agreed to this week of torture, for us—not her.
As soon as school was out and all my students were safe at home, I started what was supposed to be a relaxing few weeks. But, a doctor’s appointment was almost made after sudden painful heartburn woke me at 4:00 am two nights in a row. My stomach hurt. My husband said it must be delayed stress from school. But how stressful was I now, reading the first books of summer vacation? But after days of self-analyzing, I came to the conclusion the pain was a result of merely visualizing leaving my beloved girl at camp. I did what any rational mother would do, I called a friend to confirm what I thought: if it’s causing this much turmoil, she shouldn’t be allowed to go. But my friend didn’t agree. She thought my daughter would truly enjoy a camp experience. She thought she’d have fun. Of course, her daughter wasn’t signed up for camp. She said the problem was that I didn’t trust people to care for her properly. Bingo. It was also the time span of limited communication.
When she was outside out of earshot, I called the camp director to air my concerns. Can we escort them to their cabins and help them set up their bed? Yes. Now about the phone…. I did my best to explain that my baby had only spent two nights away before, and had called 4 times over that time period. How the heck was she supposed to make it for 5 nights/6 days?? The director, in a voice so calm it made me wonder how many times she had discussed this topic with parents, said we could make a time when she could call me. I assured her it wouldn’t be necessary to plan anything, I just needed to know it wasn’t out of the question. And if a kid wanted to come home? The child is put off for a bit to see if the feeling will pass, but then after another check if the feeling prevails, the child calls home to talk to Mom. After hanging up, I felt better. She had all the right answers.
My husband, deeply stuck in the daughter wrapped firmly around the Daddy’s finger phenomenon, expressed concerns in a vacillating pattern. First, he was going to miss her; second, if she has never been able to last more that 30 minutes in a tent in the backyard, how did we think she would ever make it in a cabin for 5 nights? Good thinking. But the next day he commented that he thought she’d be fine. So much for him refusing to allow her this unnecessary excursion.
I still had a powerful option: prayer. I prayed for a sign that she shouldn’t go. Anything would be taken as a sign. I then prayed for something to stop us from going, if there was any reason she shouldn’t go. Suggestions were offered, such as maybe she could suddenly develop a low-grade temperature, maybe she could decide that the idea was ridiculous and she could flatly refuse to go. A simple “Are you sure I should be doing this?” would suffice. I’d take anything. The result: all my stomach ailments disappeared, and the daughter’s enthusiasm increased as the departure day drew ever closer. I couldn’t find anyone on my side.
I decided to put my energies to positive use. I created long letters with extras for her to open each day she was away, drop off and pick up days included. Each two paged typed note contained a picture of her when she was little, with a “look how far you’ve come” note on the back. There were jokes, stickers, funny stories about her puppy, and even a note pad of hearts for her and her new friends to write down all the things they loved about camp. Each note was placed in an envelope; each envelope was labeled with a different colored marker. Then I bought special cards to mail her each day she was away, even mailing one before she left so she’d get one on DAY ONE. I was doing my best to send mother love in an envelope.
Special things were packed: journal, stamped addressed postcards, my sweatshirt because she’d read it helped campers if they had an article of clothing from their mothers, stamped addressed postcards, photos of her family and puppy, stamped addressed postcards.
I felt like the ultimate good sport the day I purchased all the necessary small stuff: toothpaste, etc. I even bought the raincoat and a waterproof flashlight.
Finally, the day came when the thought of her being away--with strangers--in a cabin-- with no lock--for an entire week, brought a feeling of excitement for her, rather than nausea. I was growing in my motherhood. It was a painful progress, but it was progress.
When the day came to deliver her to camp, it was hard to focus on anything. The family puttered around watching every five minutes pass.
When we arrived, her bosom buddy was already there. Indeed they were in the same cabin. Through the registration process ahead of us, the friend and her family, and my husband and son, scurried to the designated cabin to secure side-by-side cots. My daughter looked up and said, “It’s better than I thought!” I was doing okay. Eyes filled up and the chin quivered a bit, but I covered it well.
Once in the cabin I set about making my darling’s bed. I tucked and spread out the wrinkles. We unpacked a few things. The vivacious counselor asked us sincerely if there was anything we wanted her to know. My first thought was “Where do I begin? Do you realize I’m trusting you to care for one someone I can’t live without? Someone I love with all my being?” But, I simply clued her in the fact this was a very new experience for the whole family and I really had no idea if she’d be fine, or homesick. The counselor assured us she had many tricks for home sick campers (how about sick mothers?). Once my bed-making job was done, there was nothing else to do but make small talk. I felt the need to exit while I was still doing okay. She seemed ready for us to leave. Even her big brother gave her a hug (well, he sort of leaned on her affectionately). As my husband, son and I walked down the trail to the parking lot, I thought of more I should have said. I hadn’t introduced her to the Camp Director, what if she wants to call home? I turned to go back, but decided against planting bad seeds. Onward we walked. We shopped at the grocery store, and picked up subs for supper; just three, not four. I felt sort of empty, grayish, in a cloud, going through the motions. When we returned home, I raced to check the answering machine. No blinks, so far--so good.
Throughout the first days, there was a need to check the answering machine whenever we were out for even a few minutes, but by Tuesday, I decided she must be going to stay the week. I mailed a letter everyday I knew she’d still be there to get it. I called the post office on Tuesday to have them hold our mail, so I could pick it up earlier, but there was nothing. But, Wednesday there were two postcards (because she had run out of room on the first). Her note said she was having a “wonderful” time and the counselors were “really nice” and she had already made a new friend, and there was going to be a dance (they would all do their nails!), and they were “VERY” busy so a note could not have been sent sooner. I sighed deeply, she was happy. I read the note ten times. She was getting along without her parents; she hadn’t even needed to call. Wow. I tracked the days by “we get her in three days,” “just two more nights,” always looking forward to “today’s the day!”
Keeping busy was the key to my success. I washed her pillows, blankets, sheets. I ran her stuffed animals through the dryer for dedusting. Beanie Babies were juggled outside for freshening. Shelves were dedusted. Anything capable of hanging from a clothesline was pinned there for airing. Washing, sewing and gardening activities worked to keep me busy, but reading did not; I couldn’t quite settle to that degree.
By Thursday, the “we get to get Rachel tomorrow!” day, I had had enough of my girl being away. By evening I fought to keep the tears at bay. My husband, who had the day before shared that he thought the week was going quickly, even offered that he was feeling differently and was ready to get his baby home.
The whole family attended pick up day. How sweet it was! The anticipation to lay eyes and hands on my daughter was joyful. I couldn’t wait to hear how she was (she says camp was a 5 out of 10; all activities outside the cabin were awesome, but inside the cabin, a few mean girls made life a bit difficult) and to get her in the car heading home (I switched places with my son so he had the front seat and I sat in the back with my girl). I told my girl how proud I was of her. I didn’t want to let go of her. I don’t ever want to let go of her again. So much for progress, what I needed was a recovery period.
After a week I still think about surviving our first week of camp. I feel good, I feel strong. I think my kid’s moving to college, or getting married will be a piece of cake. Nah.
07-05-2010, 04:55 PM
#6
Senior Member
Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Eastern Montana
Posts: 994
Originally Posted by raptureready
Yes, today I took DD and another girl from church to camp and dropped them off. DH went with us. I got them registered, in their dorm, beds made and banked their spending money then I thought it was time to say our goodbyes. They were so excited that they took off running to the dorm, I had to call them back just to say goodbye. When we got home the house seems so strange---really quite but different than when she's just out visiting a friend. I think I'm having withdrawal. I think I'm more homesick for her than she will be for us but I have to let her grow up sometime. At least I didn't cry all the way home like last year.
07-05-2010, 06:06 PM
#8
Super Member
Join Date: Feb 2009
Location: South central Nebraska, US
Posts: 5,367
>>>>>>>>>
When I dropped off my daughter at college alone (hubby was on a business trip) I had to pull off the road on the way home I was crying so hard!!!
PS: I got over it!!! Used her room for odds and ends!LOL!
When I dropped off my daughter at college alone (hubby was on a business trip) I had to pull off the road on the way home I was crying so hard!!!
PS: I got over it!!! Used her room for odds and ends!LOL!
07-05-2010, 06:13 PM
#9
Super Member
Join Date: May 2009
Location: Central PA
Posts: 5,573
I understand exactly where you are coming from. The first night my son spent away at my moms (he was 2-1/2) I slept with his blanket! Our youngest DD is living in New Zealand for at least another 18 months while going grad work at the Uni of Auckland. It was horrible after she left a year ago...even though she had been married 3 years it was just so different knowing that she was on a different continent.
I agree with making something special for her while she is gone...AND making some special time for you and DH. Just try to think of all the fun she is having. Sounds like she went last year too, and if she is going again, she must really have enjoyed it...and in the end all we want is them to be happy....no matter how much we suffer from missing them. {{{HUGS}}}
I agree with making something special for her while she is gone...AND making some special time for you and DH. Just try to think of all the fun she is having. Sounds like she went last year too, and if she is going again, she must really have enjoyed it...and in the end all we want is them to be happy....no matter how much we suffer from missing them. {{{HUGS}}}
07-05-2010, 06:14 PM
#10
Senior Member
Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Eastern Montana
Posts: 994
Originally Posted by dakotamaid
>>>>>>>>>
When I dropped off my daughter at college alone (hubby was on a business trip) I had to pull off the road on the way home I was crying so hard!!!
PS: I got over it!!! Used her room for odds and ends!LOL!
When I dropped off my daughter at college alone (hubby was on a business trip) I had to pull off the road on the way home I was crying so hard!!!
PS: I got over it!!! Used her room for odds and ends!LOL!
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