Christmas Party!

Summer staff begin training as strangers, not really sure of each other, unsure if they belong or if they made the right choice in coming to the woods for three months. By the end of the summer, they have spent 24/7, working, playing, hanging out, supporting each other through frustration and exhaustion, and have developed a bond that is unlike any of their other relationships. They hug and cry and cling to each other- now unsure how they will survive without being surrounded by this new family they've only known for 3 months, but feel so connected to.

In the weeks following camp, I get lots of emails and phone calls as staff adjust back to real life. It's not always easy- their friends and family don't understand what a life changing 3 months they've had and the rest of the staff is spread around the state and country, back to school and their real lives.

By the time Christmas rolls around, most people are back to their normal life and the ache from missing camp has faded.

For the past 2 years, I have hosted a Christmas party/ staff reunion. Both years I have made a big dinner, fabulous dessert and bought the cutest party gifts (last year it was photo flip books and this year was a gingerbread house box filled with a variety of goodies, including an ornament, candy, etc.). I also made several batches of gingerbread and icing so that everyone could make gingerbread houses. It's a lot of work, but I actually really like the planning and whole production of it.

Besides the preparation, my real motivation is the "ah ha" moment I know the majority of the staff will have. They develop such close relationships and then they mount the loss of camp, and by Christmas, they are wondering if it was really as important as they thought it was.

The first three staff arrived early and as I hugged and greeted them, Counselor B burst into tears. She'd flown across the country to be at the party and she just couldn't believe she was back! Each staff member after the first group was greeted by a deafening shout as the door opened and everyone celebrated the latest arrival. It was pure excitement and so fun to stand back and watch. I watched their faces flood with emotion and I could almost see their thoughts as they came together for the first time since the summer.

Halfway through the night, Counselor M leaned over to Counselor H and said, "I can't believe we're all here. It feels like we were never apart." Bingo! THAT is the reason I work so hard to bring them back together. The relationships that are built at camp are unlike any others they have and even months apart doesn't take away the connection. It's an incredible feeling of belonging, of being truly understood and feeling complete. Being able to facilitate the makes my job the greatest in the world.

And that, is truly the reason for the season. Merry Christmas.

Emerging Leader

The American Camping Association has 24 "sections" across the country which provide training and educational opportunities, manage the accreditation process, etc. Last spring, the VP of camp's section asked me to "help out" with the education committee, and that turned into me becoming the chair and joining the board of directors for the section.

One of my earliest memories from my childhood camp experience was along the sidelines of a day camp field. A huge group of kids was playing and while I had zero interest in joining the game, I distinctly remember standing next to the counselor, my arms crossed, thinking, "I don't wanna play, but I would like to be in charge of this." I desperately wanted a taste of the power that comes from holding a clipboard. That feeling never went away, and (even when I resist) I almost always end up in some sort of leadership or organizational position of every activity of which I get involved.

The board of directors is made up of several very experienced, successful camp directors, whose careers I admire and aspire to someday emulate. I am honored to be able to work with and learn from them.

Yesterday, as we reviewed the budget, I was doing my best to follow along and pay attention. But the entire page was filled with column after column of numbers and the only thing I could think of was a song I was making up~ "this is boring, this is boring, blah blah blah, blah blah blah..." And then I remembered I had gum in my purse and got excited. When I reached for the gum, I found a cool pen, and then the song turned into, "cooooooooool pen! Yeah yeah..."

As I sat, singing my song and day dreaming about glitter, all of a sudden, I snapped back into reality, looked around the room at everyone nodding, jotting notes and saying things like, "fiscal year blah blah" and I felt like a little kid who'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I self consciously wondered if anyone noticed how unqualified I was and I was genuinely concerned that I was going to get scolded like a naughty camper. I was relieved to see that no one seemed to notice me disinterest, but I was worried that perhaps I was actually a child, trapped in an adult's body. And then I started to worry that at some point, faking my way through the "grown up things" I don't care about was going to get me in trouble.

The meeting ended and I felt stressed out and worried about my fate as an adult. After the meeting, it was time for the annual celebration of the year for everyone in the section. Committee leaders gave the highlights of the year, the president spoke, and re-accredited camps gave presentations on their successes. Volunteers and board members were recognized with certificates and then, to my surprise, the vice president of the board announced that they would be handing out an award.

I was surprised because, as Education Chair, I'd done a majority of the planning for the event. Earlier, when we had reviewed the schedule of the day, I'd asked her about the award and she'd said, "we aren't giving anything out this year." So when she got up and described the "emerging leadership" award and then announced my name, my mouth dropped open like a pageant winner. I was still stressed out about not being a competent adult and genuinely surprised to be recognized by so many people I admire.

I received a very nice plaque, which, I hope, will inspire me to pay better attention the next time we discuss the budget or anything else I struggle to find interesting. Perhaps this is just the inspiration I need...

Update

I've heard from my readers (all three of you) and I am sorry that I haven't updated this blog recently. During the summer, I am constantly busy with a nonstop roller coaster adventure that is running a camp. I am surrounded by silly kids, crazy staff and every minute is out of a dream. Needless to say, I have a lot of stories to tell. Additionally, I don't have much time, so I don't have the opportunity to talk on the phone and keep everyone up to date on what's going. And so I am an active blogger.

Fall, Winter and Spring are less eventful. I love working in my office, preparing for camp and enjoying shorter, less intense hours than the summer. I have a nice, drama free relationship with a wonderful boyfriend. I have a great family and fabulous friends. I like to spend my free time crafting, cooking, reading, running. I like to volunteer. My life is awesome. But not particularly interesting. So I haven't had much to write about. Also, I talk to the majority of my readers on a daily (for sure a weekly) basis. So you know what's going on.

But I miss blogging and my dream of authoring a hilarious memoir is never going to come true if I don't practice writing. When I began this blog three years ago, I had just bought a house in the city and I imagined myself alternating between camp life in the wilderness (granola) and in the off season being Carrie Bradshaw (a la Sex in the City), sipping pretty pink cosmopolitans while wearing heals at a trendy club (cosmos). Apparently I was planning on writing fiction, because I'm not so much the trendy, clubbin' type of gal, as I am a sweatpant wearing, crazy dog lady.

So I'm embracing that part of my life and for your reading pleasure, please visit my newest blog- http://bulldogbrigade3.blogspot.com/ where you can keep up with my non-cosmo, non-granola adventures (I will continue to update this blog as well). Happy reading!

Griffin

In June, when Griffin got sick the first time, the vet (a bulldog expert and multiple award winner in his field) warned me that it would be the first of many trips to see him because Grif is a sick dog. I cried and I agonized and I debated my options with every person I know.

Surgery #1 was successful and he got better and I fell a little more madly in love with him every day.

Surgery #2 was a necessary follow up and he did well.

He has been on antibiotics since June, but he still gets sick. We've done hundreds of dollars worth of tests and they all come back clear. He continues to be the sweetest, most lovable puppy around.

After the last vet visit, another huge sum of money, a sick dog and seemingly no end in sight, I emailed the bulldog rescue representative. I didn't want to get rid of him, but I hadn't slept through the night in weeks and I kept bursting into tears whenever I looked at him.

She and I spoke on the phone for a long time. She said he didn't sound adoptable, which meant I could keep him or put him to sleep. She suggested I call the vet again and have him call her to discuss Griffin's health and they could figure out what the best recommendation would be.

Yesterday the vet let me know that Griffin could have palate surgery. 9 times out of 10, dogs with his same issues have this surgery and never get sick again. He's not sick enough to put to sleep but he's got too many issues to be adoptable, so it's either live with a constantly sick dog or surgery. $1300, although the vet offered to do it for $800 (perhaps because I gasped when he said $1300, or maybe because Griffin is particularly adorable and pathetic, I don't know).

I'm not thrilled with writing another huge check, but I don't see another option and I'm hopeful this could be the solution. He's going in on Monday, so I we'll know soon...

Part 2- Rage

Bleeding heart liberal... until my car window was smashed and my purse stolen. Now I'm mad... no, now I'm RAGING.

On Sunday, my roommates and I took the three dogs to the dog park. Ordinarily, I wouldn't being my purse with me because I obviously know better than to leave my purse in my car. However, I was in between errands and honestly, didn't even think about it. When we got there, I put it under the seat and figured that in a busy parking lot, in the middle of the afternoon, it would be fine.

When we returned to the car an hour later, my window was shattered and my purse was gone. As I waited for the police to arrive, the gas station down the block also called the police because they saw a man filling up his gas tank throw a purse into the garbage can. Apparently cars get broken into several times a week at this park (news to me), so the gas station is used to this sort of thing.

The officer arrived with my purse (minus my credit cards, ID, camera, and gum, but still containing my lip gloss, old papers, etc), filed a report and then my roommates, dogs and I headed home. And I have been fuming ever since.

I'm mad at myself for leaving my purse in my car, but I am also mad because I should be able to leave my purse in my car. Because they are MINE. How dare he... what would ever make him think it was okay to do that? Does he have no decency? The gas station attendant saw a black man throw my purse away. And all I can think is, "congratulations dude, you are a complete cliche. Seriously? Pull up your pants, go get a job and stop perpetuating the stereotype." I don't feel like my normal bleeding heart liberal self. And I'm mad about that. Because I am the first person to argue against stereotypes, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to look beyond someone's race or gender to approach with an open mind.

I'm also mad that I had to drive around for 2 days with no window and then I had to spend $240 to have my window replaced. Not to mention $2osomething to replace my ID, 17 phone calls to get a new bank account and new cards. And then there's my stolen camera (I hope he enjoys the 57 pictures and videos of my dogs), stolen wallet, oh, and did I mention my stolen hope? Yeah, because he took that too.

I realize that his life probably sucks and he was probably desperate and, while annoying and violating, this won't really affect my life long term. I realize that I should read and re-read "Part 1- Idealism" because while this was his fault, I have conflicted feelings about how much blame and hatred I can actually assign to this individual....

Except that I'm really mad. I can't stop thinking about how unacceptable this was. How, no matter what kind of difficult life you've had, in no way is it okay to break someone else's window and take something that doesn't belong to you. I keep thinking of the terrible things I would like to say to him. And for possibly the first time ever, I totally understand the opposite view point (does anti-bleeding heart liberal have a name?). I understand the viewpoint that, "I work hard for my money, I don't want it to go towards helping people who can't help themselves." Sorry poor people, you're on your own.

*Sigh*

Even in my rage, I can freely admit that my education, my job, my house, car, purse, and everything else in life that I have earned, was earned with the support of my family, neighbors, and greater community. I didn't get to this place in life on my own. I was given incredible opportunities from the time I was young, supported through everything and lucky enough to grow up in a culture of success. Education wasn't a choice. Working hard wasn't a choice. College, getting a job, making something of myself- none of those were choices. Those things were givens- just what you do. I didn't become who I am because I am a superior human being to the purse snatcher. I was just lucky enough to be born into a world where success was expected from birth... The same way that he was (probably) born into a world where a crime is, if not expected, at least common. How much can I really fault him?

There is a war inside of me between my feelings of wanting to change the world one person at a time, with a new found desire to direct all charitable giving funds towards a giant wall- behind which we can send all of the loser criminals to live and destroy each other, leaving the res of us (productive members of society) to live in peaceful harmony. I'm not sure which will win...

Part 1- Idealism

Ordinarily, I would proudly consider myself a bleeding heart liberal. I believe in helping others. I believe that it takes a village to raise a child and that we have a duty to help one another, regardless of how much someone "deserves" help or not. Nothing in life is equal and I think that part of the responsibility of having more is to use your wealth, power or influence to help others. I am happy to make sacrifices for the betterment of the community overall. Isn't that the whole idea behind community? I love community- people coming together, sharing resources, strength in numbers.

My conservative boyfriend tells me I am the most idealist person he's ever met. I am an optimist. I believe in hope. I grew up in a wonderful family, in a nice neighborhood, went to great schools, was given every opportunity and, until my 20s, never even considered that there was an alternative to "anything is possible if you can dream". Warm and fuzzy? Yes, probably, but when your entire existence is filled with supportive, loving people, opportunities, and everything is presented with a side of sugar and glittery pixie dust, it's difficult not to have hope.

Not everyone grows up the way that I did. When a child grows up in a tough neighborhood, without positive role models, and where crime, violence and disrespect are part of the everyday culture, and where emphasis is not placed on education, responsibility, or morality- that child is at a disadvantage. When it's not just one child, but an entire community of children, who go on to have their own children, and so on and so on, it becomes a culture of poverty. An entire group of people who are lacking in values, have limited resources and an entirely different outlook on the world.

"Right" and "wrong", honesty, responsibility and making good choices have been instilled in me since I was learning to walk and talk. Sometimes I may sometimes struggle to do the right thing, but there's really no excuse for me to make wrong, irresponsible, dishonest choices because I know what is appropriate.

If you grow up surrounded by crime, without role models, without consequences and your parents and neighbors have grown up that way, and you are completely surrounded by that identity, is it really possible to know right from wrong? I'm not saying that people have no opportunities to learn about rules, or develop a sense of morality. And I'm not saying it's acceptable to be a criminal. But I think if I were to steal someone's purse, it would be more shocking, more unbelievable and somehow more reprehensible than the guy who grew up surrounded by disorder. Right and wrong have been instilled in me since birth, so I have NO excuse to commit a crime, whereas, the guy who's whole life has been chaos is pretty much doomed to replicate the same behavior.

A crime is a crime, and all people should be held to the same standard, but how realistic is it to put two people in entirely opposite circumstances and expect them to behave in the same way.

Camp Or Bust...

Last fall, I went to camp and the leaves were vibrant, the weather was crisp and it was so peaceful and perfect, I vowed that this fall, I would spend a whole week enjoying it.

My schedule didn't allow for a whole week, but Wednesday-Saturday, I was back to camp for the first time since the summer. I had piles of work, my camera, my running shoes, my vest and other outdoor clothes. I envisioned four perfect days of a restful, yet productive retreat into the woods. I planned to start every day with a long run, spend ample time crunching through the leaves photographing camp in Autumn. And the cool air would refresh and motivate me to tackle some projects that have been sitting on my desk for a long time. It was going to be the perfect combination of rest, work, quiet reflection, relaxation, and enjoying my beloved camp.

Recently my house has become slightly more chaotic with the addition of a third canine member of our family- no, I didn't get another dog, but my brother did, so now Olivia and Griffin have a cousin. Buddha is 15 pounds, but he faces down all 120 pounds of bulldog as if he were ten times his size. Actually, the three of them play quite nicely together, but it is still three barking, running, needy dogs that make life a little louder and a little muddier. I have washed my floors about a million times in the past few weeks and I can't seem to get my house to as clean as I would like. It's driving me crazy.

It's been good to be back to my office- I have several projects going at once and I am eager to jump in to 2011 planning. But for the past few weeks, I haven't seemed to make any progress- I work a lot, but I haven't been able to cross anything off my list. It's driving me crazy.

My boyfriend is wonderful, we are going to Vegas in a few days. But he is driving me crazy.

The craziness is actually probably less to do with all of those things and more to do with the fact that I have been sick for three weeks now. Yes, THREE weeks. I have bronchitis, or at least, that's what we think. I've been to the doctor twice. I've downed 4 bottles of cough medicine and I'm on antibiotics. But still, I have been hacking uncontrollably like an old man who has smoked his whole life.

I was excited that I had this time at camp planned and on Wednesday, I eagerly jumped in my car and headed for a much needed break.

Except...

It rained almost the entire time I was at camp (the sun was bright as I packed my car to leave).

Olivia whined the entire time I was at camp- no amount of playing outside (in the rain), treats, toys or cuddling made her stop.

Both Olivia and Griffin insisted on being on my lap every time I sat down (120 pounds of bulldog is just 15 pounds less than me, but that was how we sat, over and over again).

I was not motivated to work, didn't go for even one run, didn't take any photos, and I continued to cough nonstop.

Now I'm home and possibly feeling more tense than before.

Bust.

Mice

Mice are an every day occurrence at camp. Before I moved my office, I used to start every day by bringing my garbage can outside and releasing the mouse (or mice) that had fallen in overnight and were scratching around. The kitchen and health center are both kept very clean and mouse free, my house, the staff house and cabins are all pretty clear of mice, but many of the other buildings have mouse visitors regularly, so, at this point in life, it's not a big deal to me to see a mouse.

Last Spring, before heading off to camp, I had a ferocious battle with the smartest mouse on the planet who was happily living in my kitchen and making me crazy. My experiences at camp have made me pretty tolerant of vermin (probably more so than is normal), but a mouse in a kitchen is not acceptable and a mouse that destroys box after box of Costco sized bulk groceries had to die.

Last night I was at my boyfriend's house and as we sat together in the living room, we saw a flash of brown fur scurry across the kitchen floor and under the oven. Ugh! Another mouse! I will never escape!

BF's parents were over and so the four of us discussed mouse trap options. I had tried, unsuccessfully to use a live trap to humanely capture and relocate my mouse. When that failed, I set several of the standard bait and snap traps. As I mentioned above, I had the smartest mouse alive and he managed to avoid those as well, so eventually I resorted to poison, which I really didn't want to do, but successfully left me mouse-free.

BF is a fan of the sticky traps. I think they are the least humane option of all because once the mouse is caught, you just throw it away, stuck, but still alive.

As we had this discussion, I excused myself to use the bathroom. The living room leads to a little cove (not even enough space to be called a hallway) which has doors for two bedrooms, a small linen closet and the bathroom. The living room light was on, but not the light in that area, so it was kind of dark.

In a split second (although, in my memory, I can remember every millisecond), I realized the mouse was sitting in the cove. I squeaked (in a very annoying girly startled way) and jumped out of the way, but in doing so, I startled the mouse, who also flinched. As we both moved, my foot (I was wearing shoes) landed on top of the mouse, and I could feel a sickening crunch.

At that point, I made a louder squeak and said, "oh my gosh, oh my gosh". When I turned on the light, there was a long streak of blood and a flattened mouse. I continued to squeak "oh my gosh, oh my gosh" until BF arrived with the dustpan and broom. Except that instead of cleaning it up, he just danced around and started making sissy noises, which snapped me back into reality. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and elbowed him out of the way. I scooped up the little body, saying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm an animal lover!", told BF to clean up the crime scene mess I'd left, and went outside to throw the mouse in the garbage can.

BF doesn't have a mouse anymore.

A few thoughts-

I keep having terrible flashbacks of the crunch. That was awful.

If that scenario had happened and I wouldn't have had shoes on, I think I would have fainted.

If I had intentionally tried to step on a mouse, I would never, in a million years, been able to be quick enough to catch it. That was a fluke- we startled each other, had the same reaction and panic knocked both of us into the exact same place.

I feel really terrible about being a killer, however, of all the mouse-removal options we'd discussed, I think this was the quickest, least painful, most humane way for him to go. So I guess I should take comfort in that.

Playing the Game

98% of the time in my job, I can do anything I want, when I want, how I want, without asking anyone. I love the flexibility. I don't know if I will ever be able to re-adjust to how the majority of the population works now that I have been in this situation. Once or twice a month September-May, the Board of Directors pops into my life. Sometimes I run things by them, but mostly I don't. Most of our relationship is me telling them what I've been up to and them telling me I'm awesome. Every now and then they make suggestions or ask me for something or give me advice but I can't think of any examples off the top of my head where I had to do something I didn't want to because they told me I had to.

From that description, it is clear why this camp has had so many troubles in the past. Abusing the freedom would be easy. But luckily for me and for the Board, I am passionate and committed and I don't abuse the freedom. In my opinion, everyone is winning in this scenario. Camp is succeeding, the Board doesn't have to worry or put much effort into things and I have my dream job!

The President of the Board (Pres) is a wonderfully kind, supportive man. He runs a major bank. He has two personal assistants (one of which is also on the Board). The last time I went to his office, one of the assistants brought us drinks in the conference room. She brought him a Diet Pepsi. He'd asked for a Diet Coke. When she told him that the company fridge didn't have any, he reminded her there was a machine downstairs. She took away the Pepsi and returned a few minutes later with Coke.

Pres wasn't demanding or condescending and his assistant didn't seem upset. In my line of work, we carry our own plastic water bottles and if beverages are available at meetings, they are set out at a table and you get whatever is there. But that's the way it is with him, probably not just at the office, but in life.

The first year and a half or so of working at camp, Pres drove me insane. I wasn't used to working for someone who is used to being waited on, doted on and the center of the universe. As I said before, I have almost complete freedom with most of camp (programming, staffing, etc), but anything involving the Board, Board members or organization policy has to involve him.

I learned quickly that if I need his participation in something, it's not as easy as making a proposal and him approving it. What needs to happen is this: propose the idea somewhere between 3-6 times, including all details, written documentation, etc. He will appear to listen but he won't take in anything I am saying until the 5th or 6th time it comes up, at which point, he will "have an idea" and will repeat (usually verbatim) what I have been talking to him about as if the idea just came to him out of the blue.

This process drives Business Manager J INSANE. She hates that he doesn't listen in the first place and tries to point out that it's not his idea and we already talked to him about it a million times. And then when he doesn't acknowledge that, she gets even more enraged. It used to drive me crazy too. I felt invisible, unappreciated and disrespected as a human being. I felt outraged and wasn't sure I could work in such an unacceptable environment.

And then I stepped back and looked at my job overall. And I realized 98% of the time in my job, I am completely on my own doing whatever I want and LOVING every minute of it. 1% of my job is me reporting what I am doing to the Board and them telling me I'm awesome and to keep doing whatever I want to do. And 1% is annoying and frustrating.

Every job has positive and negative and the best you can do is find a job where the ratio of good is greater than bad. I'm not going to do better than 99% good.

And so instead of feeling outraged or offended by Pres, I decided to work with my situation. I repeat whatever it is I need from him the required 3-6 times and then when he repeats it back to me, I respond with, "that is a great idea! We will get to work on this right away!" He's happy, I get what I want and life is good. It's called "playing the game".

Even more frustrating to J than Pres not listening to her is the fact that I play this game with him and give him all the credit. She wants me to go back to being outraged, fight him, and spend hours ranting and raving about the injustice of women being looked down on and not acknowledged and blah blah blah...

Yesterday at our Board meeting this happened with something so inconsequential to my life, I can't even remember. This morning, I called to let J know I would be working from home because I was feeling sick, she started ranting and raving and going on about how upset she's been since yesterday and how disrespected she feels and how she doesn't understand why he doesn't notice how capable and qualified we are.

It was 10:15am and I was wearing sweatpants on my couch, drinking coffee at leisure while checking my email. I was having a difficult time agreeing with her argument against the working conditions of the organization.

Yes, I am a proud, strong woman who expects to have my opinions heard and matter. But this man is SUPER nice, compliments us constantly on what a great job we are doing and backs up his words by giving me complete control and freedom, expressing his trust and respect with his actions, not just words. Yes, he's sort of oblivious and self centered sometimes. No, I couldn't work with him on a regular basis. But he isn't that way on purpose and I know he isn't going to change. "Playing the game" doesn't mean that I'm not standing up for myself or that I'm compromising my self worth. In playing, it is important to know when to rely on strength and when it is better to use strategy.

Thus far, being strategic has made it possible to use my couch for an office. If there were points awarded in the game of life, I would clearly be ahead...

Catching Up

When I write blog entries, I always sort of imagine that I am typing to no one and that this blog is mostly for me to remember all the fun stories that get lost in the hectic schedule of the summer.

But apparently I have "fans". And apparently my fans are upset that I haven't been writing. So I'm back...

The problem is that I don't really have anything interesting to talk about anymore.

August 22- I spent the morning frantically cleaning, keeping the dogs out of the house and around the time every single person who was "up north" for the weekend decided to head home, I did too. I fought the traffic and wished I was still at peaceful quiet camp. When I got home, there was a 20 degree temperature difference and my delicate bulldogs immediately overheated and were forced inside to the air conditioning. They wanted to be back at camp, wandering free, cool breeze running through their fur. I felt guilty and also annoyed by their whining.

My annoyance continued because my house was a mess, the weeds in the backyard up to my waste and no food in sight. I was trying to be excited to see my boyfriend and roommates and be home, but I thought about getting back in the car and going back to camp several times.

The first week home was a whirlwind (as it always is). I spent a lot of time organizing (my house, my boyfriend's house, my office...), shopping, sitting around. I have two entirely different lives- both of which I love. Some people aren't happy at all, so it seems kind of spoiled and bratty to whine about having so much goodness. But it is difficult to re-adjust to a whole different existence- my stuff is in different places, my schedule completely different.

The dogs have spent most of the past 3 weeks pouting and looking like tortured little pound puppies, less than satisfied with my fenced in, small city yard, the fact that my door is not open from morning until night, and that they don't have constant attention from hoards of children.I have been doing my best to give them attention, bring them to the park to let them run free in the trees and I've been leaving my back door open as much as possible. They have the most pampered lives of any animals (better than some people actually), and yet, I feel terribly guilty when they look at me like poor, neglected, caged in, unloved animals (the fact that they sleep with their heads on my pillow, covers up to their little chins, spend every minute of the day playing with piles of toys, chewing on treats and are treated like royalty doesn't make me feel less guilty from taking them from camp).

After a week of adjusting I went back to work on August 30. 310 days or so until summer 2011. I started with updating my month by month to do list and then spent the week reading camper and parent evaluations, looking through 8000 (or more) photos from the summer and laying out next year's weeks, themes and prices. Early Bird registration begins October 1, so the turn around is really fast. I think most people who ask the standard, "so what do you do the rest of the year" would be surprised how early planning actually starts.

This week I have met with the Board of Directors twice, continued with lists of lists, updating paperwork so that we can get the website ready for registration. My staff have begun emailing more and more- the novelty of being home, seeing friends and starting school is wearing off, and they are beginning to ache for camp in a way they never expected.

I've also been spending lots of time with the BF, eagerly catching up on my beloved MTV reality tv shows, running daily, tanning regularly, reading books, seeing friends and sitting... just sitting, doing nothing, soaking in the quiet. I went to the State Fair, took a weekend road trip 4 hours south to visit my best friend, and am planning a trip to Vegas for the end of the month.

None of those things make for very good blog entries.

I will try to be more interesting in the next few days...

See Ya Next Year

A few days ago, one of the kids asked me if I was going to cry when camp ended. I told her that I would be sad because I would miss the kids and the staff and all the fun, but no, I wouldn't cry. There were several years in the 11 summers that I have spent August and September totally hysterical. You're only together 3 months, but the relationships you build with the staff are so intense. That, combined with exhaustion of having to be so energetic all summer, make for some emotional goodbyes.

Since this became my full time job, it's a little less emotional to say goodbye. I know that in approximately 310 days (but who's counting?), camp will begin again. It will include both new and old faces, and there will be new adventures (and challenges), but it will be essentially the same. So, no, I won't cry, but I am sad to see it end.

Last night, after the last staff had checked out and driven away, my dad and I went out to dinner. We ordered shrimp cocktail, steak and I drank a big margarita. Afterwards, I sat on the couch for several hours- content to do absolutely NOTHING and be responsible for NO ONE!

Camp is clean, organized, packed and mostly ready for the winter. I have 27 lists of things to do in the fall, but for the next week, I am on vacation! Today, I will lay in the sun and tan myself until I look like a football. At some point I will pack my room and my office, clean the house and walk around and touch every building one last time.

Tomorrow I will load 100 pounds of baby bulldog in my car and make the trek back to the city. I am excited to see my boyfriend regularly, hang out with my roommates, get my hair cut, and jump in to planning for summer 2011. Summer is over, bring on the fall!!

BAT!

11:15 knocks on my door always mean something interesting. Last night was no exception.

Counselor B, "We have a bat in our cabin! Don't worry, the girls are calm and I managed to get them to not scream, but WE HAVE A BAT IN OUR CABIN!"

I calmly put on my shoes and headed over to find all 10 twelve year olds with their heads under their covers. I realized about halfway between my house and the cabin that I had come completely empty handed, so I wasn't really sure what my plan was, but how difficult could it be to shoo out a little bat?!

I located the golf ball sized bat quickly and with confidence, climbed onto the top bunk, tee shirt in hand, prepared to grab him and toss him outside gently. But when I reached for him, he opened his tiny little mouth and went from being cute and harmless to something from all of the trendy vampire shows and movies.

I yelped, dove for cover and decided to re-think my plan, however, in doing so, I must have spooked the little guy and he started flying around the room. I attempted to throw the tee shirt on him mid-air, but I missed, and then he started swooping.

At breakfast this morning, several of the counselors told me they heard, "eeeeeeeeeekkkkk" followed by girls giggling, me shouting to Counselor B to "do something". As I cowered in the top bunk, hands over my head, I thought, "this is NOT how I saw this turning out!"

After a few warning swoops and laps around the room, he landed. Regaining my composure, I grabbed a bucket of markers, dumped it onto the floor (I wasn't trying to be dramatic, but probably was), and trapped him. Counselor B came with the dust pan and we managed to get him off the wall, into our bat-trap and then we carried him outside to be released back into the wild.

I will be adding "wildlife specialist" to my resume this morning.

Bannock

Because a few staff had to leave early for school, scheduling was a little creative this week. There is always a mistake here or there, so it wasn't surprising yesterday afternoon when we realized that we had scheduled Counselor E to be in 2 places at once this morning. "Who can we have teach his boys sports?" The answer was me. Me and ten 10 year old boys playing a sport...

I like to lead activities and I enjoy the opportunity to hang out with kids. But I'm not an athlete, I don't know how to play sports and I was totally at a loss of what I was going to do with them. I briefly considered googling the rules of soccer and then I decided I would rather rip all of my hair out than play that, so I came up with the best plan of all. I switched with Counselor N who was supposed to teach them fire building first hour. He taught them sports first and I took over plans for fire building 101. It was a win win since he was dreading that activity.

Instead of just building a fire, I decided we should cook something too. After all, what's the point of a fire without doing something with it? So I decided we would make bannock.

I've heard of bannock many times, but I can't say that I've ever actually made it myself. However, with google, self confidence and the right spirit, no one knew this was a first time thing.

3 cups flour, 2 tablespoons baking powder, a little bit of salt, a little bit of butter and some water. I decided to also have them add cinnamon too. I mixed the dry ingredients first and we divided them into ziplocks and then added water. I found a HUGE frying pan in the camping supply shed and grabbed a big container of Crisco from the kitchen.

Once the kids had mixed the dough in their ziplocks, we cut the corner off and squeezed it onto the frying pan. I'd also brought a big bag of powdered sugar, because I could pretty much eat anything covered in powdered sugar.

The bannock turned out sort of like a pancake, with more of a bread texture. I was SHOCKED that it actually tasted really good (I'd expected something like cardboard). The boys loved it and kept saying, "I'm so glad we signed up for this activity". The dogs loved it because they got to eat all of the scraps and I loved it because it wasn't soccer!

I have been in the office a lot this summer. Between ACA re-certification and Operation Purple paperwork, I feel like the summer has passed me by in a mess of paper and emails. I miss leading activities, doing special things with kids and actually having fun. I'm sad that it is the last week and this is one of the first times I have done anything active. I am going to try to make more of an effort to schedule those times into my day next year. And yes, I am already beginning the countdown to summer 2011.

Lead Staff

Being a Lead Staff means that you don't get scheduled breaks, you don't get a night off, you need to pay attention to every detail, every staff, every camper and do anything that needs to get done, whenever you see it. It also means that you have to be my sounding board for random ideas, take care of my dogs, and any other random thing that could possibly happen at camp.

And yet, for some reason, this position is COVETED. It has become glorified and mythical. I don't really understand, but all everyone can talk about this week is becoming Lead Staff, who will be Lead Staff, what it means to be Lead Staff... I want to pull my hair out and scream.

I don't talk about staffing next summer until February. Anyone who vows they will be back, probably will have something come up at the last minute. Anyone who walks out swearing they will never be back, around October, will change their minds. College students' lives change so much that there is absolutely no point in talking about this right now.

But I can't escape it! Staff keep cornering me, asking to meet to discuss next summer. Everywhere I go I hear rumblings. About half the staff have plans of returning as Lead Staff next year. It's driving me insane!!!!!!

Crying

I had heard rumblings that some of the staff were feeling stressed out. Boy/girl problems, stuff from home, end of the summer burnout... I wasn't exactly sure, so I pulled Counselor A, then Counselor Jo, then Counselor Ju, then Counselor N. Each had the same response to my question of, "how's it going?" "AWFUL".

They all have the same personality of wanting to help, wanting to fix things and of taking on other people's stress. So it wasn't just that they were dealing with personal things, it was much bigger than that.

Several people had ridden the bus home this weekend, and when it returned on Sunday afternoon, the staff all looked rough. Each time I asked how they were doing, the response was verging on tears. After a long, tear-filled conversation with Counselor M, I decided I needed to bring them all together.

I told Assistant PD A that I was going to have an emergency staff meeting during evening chapel and she would be on her own with the kids. She looked a little panicky and I missed S a lot at that moment. But she made a plan and acted confident and did well.

I took the 12 staff I have left and we sat in a circle and talked. 10 weeks ago, they were strangers and when I told them they would be a family by the end, they looked skeptical. It is difficult to adjust to being with people 24/7, but now, 10 weeks later, they don't know how to be alone. They just spent 10 weeks being challenged, pushed to exhaustion, having fun and going though a life hanging experience. Their friends at home won't understand and won't really care about their stories. As they looked at each other, they know that these are the people who know exactly what they are thinking and feeling without words. They share so many inside jokes and memories, there is no comparison to anything else.

As I described what they were feeling, one by one, they burst into tears. They were holding hands, sobbing, clinging to each other. I reminded them that no one was dying and that they would see each other again. That their relationships would change, but it would be okay. I also reminded them that they have a whole week together and that the best thing would be to throw themselves into it and live it up! Don't spend the week dwelling on the end- have as much fun as possible.

As we stood together and said a prayer, literally every single one of them was crying. I know the feeling, I have mourned the loss of summer many years in a row. I hugged a few of them, once again reminding them that it isn't over yet. I am not surprised by their reaction. And I am happy to see they have had such a powerful experience. Camp is a life changing experience. I say it all the time, but then there are moments like that and it is so clear how much of an affect camp has.

Employment Contract

Hunter is a 9 year old camper this week. We were at the beach and he told me he wanted to work for camp. I told him he could come back as a staff in 2020. He asked me if I could guarantee it.

I told him I'd draw up a contract and bring it to him.

And so I did.

EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT

August 13, 2010

Re: Hunter J. M - Employment Status

This contract between Hunter J. M and Camp guarantees employment beginning June 1, 2020.

As per agreement, Mr. M must meet the following conditions to remain eligible:

• Mr. M will continue to do well in school, try his hardest and graduate from high school.
• Mr. M will be kind and helpful to all members of his family.
• Mr. M will be a responsible and productive member of his community (including church, school, neighborhood and anywhere else he spends time).

If the above conditions are met, Mr. M will be hired by Camp.

I agree to the conditions of this contract:

________________________________ _________________

Hunter J. M Date

________________________________ _________________

Executive Director- Camp Date

________________________________ _________________

Witness Date

The contract was on camp letterhead and very official looking. I had him sign 2 copies- one for him (which I put in an official file folder and let him take home) and one for me. His counselor signed it as the witness.

In our dining hall, we have a "staff hall of fame" wall. Program Director S made a giant grid of 2x2 squares. The years we have been at camp, she painted with the tee shirt logo and bright colors and then filled in the staff names. The ones for the next 20 years or so are blank except for the year in the middle. I let Hunter sign his name on the 2020 square.

My ultimate dream would be to be at camp long enough to see kids move from the youngest group of campers, all the way through to staff. It's a long shot that Hunter will continue coming to camp, but how cool would it be if he ends up as a staff and sees his 9 year old signature on the wall? I plan on letting many more kids sign contracts and sign the wall. Eventually one of them will end up as a staff member.

Program Director S

Program Director S (PDS) graduated from college in May and has spent the entire summer, every free moment she gets, applying for jobs. Her degree is in elementary education, and teaching jobs can be difficult to get as there is so much competition. She has literally applied for 10-20 jobs per week, all around the state, different grade levels. The summer is almost over and she has been getting more and more anxious about what she is going to do in the fall.

On Tuesday, she had an interview for a 3rd/4th grade combined classroom in a tiny private school in a very small town. When she got back to camp yesterday, she had just gotten a call from the principal and got the job! She was glowing. She couldn't stop smiling and I was so happy for her. Except that she starts Tuesday. So Friday is her last day.

Her leaving a week early isn't going to hurt programming- A and I can handle it. At this point in the summer, staff know what is going on, activities are planned and the last week will fly by. So it's not professional- I'm sad because she is so fun and I am going to miss her terribly.

PDS is one of the most wonderful people I know. She is kind and fun and a hard worker, one of the calmest people I know and sets the tone of camp in a very peaceful, kind, gentle, yet fun way.

At mid-summer staff reviews, we sat together and reminisced on the last 3 summers. I always try to give staff feedback and areas to grow. But with S, there was nothing to say. Organization? Yep, every building at camp has been personally organized and labeled by her? Programing? Um, she pretty much planned or had a hand in planning everything we do. Initiative? Considering she's 10 steps ahead of me on EVERYTHING, I would say she's pretty much got that mastered too.

Together, we have spent the last 3 years changing every single thing about camp and I could not have made it without her. The journey has been filled with high highs and low lows, but so much hope and progress that it's amazing to look back. It is difficult to say goodbye to someone who has played such a key part in my time at camp.

I am excited for her and happy for her getting a teaching job. She is going to rock that school. But I am very sad to say goodbye.

BF Comes to Camp

My boyfriend has been to camp just about every other weekend this summer. I appreciate all the driving back and forth because it's been a lot! He has put a lot of effort into our relationship this summer.

Early on in our relationship, I told all my friends that I wasn't going to fall for him or get serious with him until the end of the summer, because I wasn't sure if he would make it through. We had been dating 4 months when I left and by the time summer is over, I will have been gone for four more months. That's a big deal in a brand new relationship.

If the situation was reversed and he left me, I'm not so sure how I would have coped. Camp is a weird lifestyle- perfect for a single person who can run off and play for four months, but when you have someone at home, it's a little less carefree to just disappear into the woods.

But the summer has gone well so far. He is incredibly easy going and understanding. He is patient when I don't answer his phone calls or emails or when I have to end calls early to "deal with a situation". He is wonderfully understanding when he comes for visits and groups of screaming 19 year olds pile into my house to tell me a story in the middle of us watching a movie.

I can't say enough how wonderful and patient and amazing he is. I have really wanted him to stay for a few days during the camp week, but I've been trying to ask nicely and not be demanding, even though it is REALLY important to me.

Camp isn't just a location with buildings, and when he comes over the weekend, it just isn't the same. When kids arrive and there are a million things going on all over the place, camp comes alive. I can describe my job, tell him stories every day, he can even look at pictures, but until you hear the ROAR of campers cheering in the dining hall, or have a hilarious conversation with an 8 year old, or see the whirl of kids and staff in activities, you just can't possibly understand.

Camp isn't just my job, it is my life, my love, my passion, and I desperately wanted him to experience it. I am falling in love with this man, but I needed him to see this piece of my heart before I he could really understand me and know that part of my life.

BF came to visit this weekend. I was EXHAUSTED after a busy and draining week. We spent a lot of time relaxing, sitting around, eating, just being. It was a perfect weekend. But the BEST part was that he stayed! Sunday and most of Monday, he was here, right in the action, following me around, seeing camp in all of it's glory, talking with kids; he even sung along with the songs at the campfire (which he had vowed he could NEVER do). It was one of the highs of my summer so far.

I don't think he really understood how much it meant to me, but it literally meant the world. I needed him to experience what I do. I know he doesn't fully understand, and that's okay, he doesn't need to. He is supportive and wonderful (he was before this), but I wanted him to be hot, sweaty, physically drained, laugh in that way that only kids can make you laugh, and be absorbed into this crazy world... even if it was just for 24 hours. And he did. And I am thrilled.

Sweaty

Scene- Dining hall. Campers have been at camp approximately 1 hour. Counselor N walks up to me, leading a VERY unhappy looking 8 year old.

Counselor N- "He bit Thomas."

Me- "Bit?! Like, with his teeth?"

Counselor N-"yep"

Me (turning to the tiny scowling man with his little arms folded across his chest)- "Hey dude, what's the deal? You bit someone?"

Camper J- "I have to share a locker and I HATE sharing and I HATE him and I HATE this camp and I HATE everything and he bumped me and I HATE being touched."

Me- "So you bit him?"

Camper J- "Yeah, because I HATE him and I HATE this camp and I HATE..."

I could see this was going to go on and on. He was looking very unhappy. So in an attempt to distract him and perhaps build some rapport to try to work him through this, I asked him:

"How did he taste?"

(SCOWLING, ANGRY face, arms crossed, grinding his teeth as he grunted) "sweaty"

At that point, Counselor N had to turn his back and burst into laughter.

Me- "Yep, that's why we don't bite people at camp."

Drained

Thursday night, in the midst of phone calls to the sheriff and attempting to file a report with child services, I also spent some extra time with Camper Jack. I talked to Jack SEVERAL times throughout the week. Not listening to his counselor, not doing what he was supposed to do, arguing with other campers, and on Thursday night, throwing sand in another camper's eyes were just a few of the reasons we chatted.

Jack is 13 and didn't want to be at camp. He got tricked into coming and his attitude and lack of enthusiasm reflected that.

One of the times we talked, I told him, "you're a good kid, but you're making some bad decisions." He laughed and said he'd never heard that before. I asked if he was being sarcastic and he said no. The conversation we had made me think he's been told that he's bad in the past.

I am well known for really liking the naughty campers. I enjoy a little sass. I know that their behavior is a form of communication and that it has to do with something going on in their life. Usually they just need to have someone listen to them, be nice, not yell and take some time.

What Jack didn't know (and neither did I until later), was that while he was away at camp, his mom was being deployed for the next year. His family decided to deal with it by not telling him. When I found out that he wasn't going to be able to say goodbye, wasn't going to find out she was gone (for a year), I was just crushed.

Obviously, considering his behavior and attitude, he's got some issues going on. And now his mom is gone for a YEAR, without giving him any warning.

I can't stop thinking about him, wondering if he's okay.

This week has been so emotionally draining, I am so thankful it is over.

Child Services

Every year at training, we talk about what it means to be a mandated reporter (which we are). If a child tells us that they are being hurt, or if we witness evidence of a child being hurt, we are required, by law, to report it. In 11 years of working with kids, I have never been in this situation.

Until yesterday.

One of the campers got picked up a day early by her mom and grandma. She had a meltdown, as is common with tired 8 years olds. Grandma responded by hitting her several times, pushing her to the ground, grabbing her by the face and screaming at her.

I didn't witness any of that. I was at the talent show, listening to a very painful rendition of "Party in the USA" by a 7 year old, when Counselor A came running, looking frantic and whispered the situation to me. S &A were both gone, so I grabbed the closest counselor to me, handed her the list of acts and told her she was in charge.

When I walked out to the front of camp, one of the MFLCs (both of whom are licensed therapists), was calming the mom down and the other one explained the situation to me. Nurse J took the child into the Health Center to examine her and we listened to Counselor A's description again.

The mom assured us that the child never sees the grandma and it never happens and blah blah. When Nurse J came out, she let us know the child had marks on her face. AWFUL.

Eventually we let them go since we legally can't hold them and we made the decision the child wasn't in immediate danger. I spent the next few hours on the phone with the sheriff, talking to the National Military Family Association, calming Counselor A down, and reassuring all the staff that nothing was going on and everything was fine (despite my mid-talent show exit).

This morning, I was on the phone with child protection and filed a report. I hope that it was a one time thing and they go out and visit the family and find nothing. I have a difficult time imagining the alternative. I know families are under a lot of stress when one parent is deployed, and I know that children are abused every day. But this is the first time I have had such a close encounter with it and it makes me sick to my stomach. I'm ready for this week to be over, I'm exhausted.

Getting Tired

With only 1 break a day instead of two, no night off and no co-counselor, the staff are getting to the point of exhaustion. Their tone of voice is much less patient and their faces are showing the stress.

I understand how they feel but I am also annoyed that they can't dig a little deeper and just be nice. Be patient. Stop snapping.

But we're doing okay, we're making it through...

TANK!!!!!!!!!!

Military Day!


As part of the curriculum this week, we are hosting military day. This is an opportunity for kids to learn about the military. It is also supposed to be super fun.


Last year, we had a helicopter land (on the correct day), had an obstacle course, face paint, etc. This year, the soldier assigned to help plan it came out to camp to meet with me and make plans. I work in camping, so I know a LOT of enthusiastic people, but this guy blew everyone out of the water. He was SO excited. He had so many things planned, I was slightly overwhelmed, but very excited!

Last night, we had 10 soldiers come early to stay overnight. I knew that today we would have 20+ soldiers,lots of equipment and many activities, but I didn't even think about the fact that they would be bringing it all with them. My jaw about hit the ground as giant trucks, humvees, and a HUGE truck/flatbed trailer thing (I think there is a military name for it, but I didn't catch it) rolled up to camp.

Today was an AMAZING day. The soldiers were incredibly wonderful. They were awesome with the kids, really friendly, stayed really enthusiastic all day (despite being in long, heavy uniforms in the sun). There was a climbing wall,night vision goggles, face paint, MREs (meal ready to eat), chemical detecting trucks, compasses, a giant wrecker truck, and oh yeah, a TANK!

I got to ride in a tank! Ride.in.a.tank!!!!!!!!!!!! And then pose for my picture in a tank. And play in a tank.

When I offered to drive, I was kidding. I bang my car into things on a regular basis, clearly I'm not qualified to drive a tank. But 5 minutes later, I was wearing the helmet, getting a quick lesson on which button and which pedal did what and off we went.

I got to drive a tank... I. GOT. TO. DRIVE. A. TANK.

Riding in a tank= AMAZING, awesome, incredible.

Driving a tank= EPIC...... no words can describe........

We did a big loop, probably 100 yards total. I was thinking he would let me pull it up a few feet. Nope, I DROVE A TANK!!!!!!! Pedals, steering, the whole thing. The soldier in charge was riding on top, but I was DRIVING a tank!

Not only did I get to do something absolutely amazing, but my mom and aunt had come up for the day and my dad is back from Alaska, so both my parents got to see me drive a tank. Amazing.

BEST DAY EVER!!!!!!!!

Surprises!

A day of surprises!

Last Friday, the helicopter flew over camp, checking out the landing. So this morning, when it flew over again, I assumed it was the same thing. No big deal.

And then it got louder.

And louder...

And as I ran out of the Welcome Center, I could see it hovering over the field, about to land.

110 kids and 25 staff all came running and all were looking at me, asking, "what is going on?!?"

I was frantically throwing my arms in the air saying, "it's not today, it's tomorrow! It can't land!"

But of course it did land, because camp directors have very little power to stop a landing Black hawk helicopter.

I wouldn't have expected the US military to make a mistake and mix up the dates, but apparently it happened at the other two camps this summer as well, so I rolled with it.

The pilots were wonderful and as they talked to the kids, Program Director S and I frantically re-scheduled the whole morning. S was a ROCKSTAR, never hesitating, never even batting an eyelash as she jotted out group rotations, activities, lifeguard schedules and helicopter time.

Kids were excited, but it was a HOT day and they kept asking when they got to go swimming. I kept saying, "there's a HELICOPTER in our field!" But by lunch, every kid and staff had gotten their picture taken in the helicopter, everyone had gone swimming and it was as if we'd had it planned all along.

After lunch, I was ready for regularly scheduled programming and hoping for no more surprises. But when Fed Ex arrived, I was in for another surprise, but this one was SUPER WONDERFUL.

My darling boyfriend had sent me flowers. He wanted to give me some encouragement during a crazy week. My favorite flowers. He is truly wonderful and amazing. And it was the best surprise of the week (even better than a helicopter!).

OPC

Operation Purple Camp provides a week of camp, free of charge to kids whose parents are currently deployed in the military. Run by the National Military Family Association, there are 63 camps across the country that have been selected to be part of the program this summer. This is our second summer with this program.

This week we welcomed 110 campers from this and surrounding states. Our biggest week this summer has been 80 kids, so this is a bit of a stretch for us, but we're doing it.

As a struggling camp, having 110 kids who are fully paid for (actually even a little more money than average campers), is LIFESAVING. It was a HUGE deal when we got accepted last year and a RELIEF when we got chosen again this year.

I am excited because it is a cool week, with lots of special events and many visitors.

It is an exhausting week though, with kids who come from families under more than average stress. Of 110 campers, 78 are on medication. We have kids whose parents are divorcing, kids who have suicidal tendencies, kids who are used to having a great deal of responsibility at home, and kids who are worried about mom or dad away at war. It is a much different group than our typical campers.

But it is an honor to be able to provide a week of fun to kids who so need it. I am excited for the adventures ahead!

Mental Health Breakdown

Day 1 of craziness... and we begin with insanity, like true mental health issues.

As part of the Operation Purple Program, each camp is provided a mental health consultant (MFLC). The idea behind OPC is to provide an opportunity for military kids to connect with other military kids, have fun, make friends, share their experiences, etc. Some of the curriculum is created to get the kids opening up about their feelings, and so the MFLC is on hand to support the kids and the staff if serious issues arise.

Because we have over 100 kids, we are provided 2 MFLCs. The MFLC from last year contacted me in March and the new one contacted me over a month ago. So I was a bit surprised to receive an email yesterday afternoon from a woman asking me when she should arrive.

I was completely completely confused and when I called her, it didn't make it any better. Eventually I got in contact with her supervisor who let me know there had been a mistake and we were registered under two different categories, so we were assigned another MFLC. She apologized for the confusion and asked me if I wanted her to come anyway since she was already paid for.

I was a little annoyed to be dealing with this during the 15 hours of free time I had, so I agreed. This morning she arrived bright and early. I was still in my pajamas, drinking coffee on my couch. I was not excited to see her. Within the first 10 minutes of meeting her, I knew she had just kicked her 17 year old daughter out of her house, she hates gay people, was a devout Christian, has a poodle.... whoa, whoa... WAYYYYY too much for me before my coffee was still in my cup and not circulating in my veins.

By the time camp actually started, several (5 or more, I stopped paying attention) staff had come to me to let me know she was weird, like really weird. Ugh, not what I want to deal with in an already BUSY week.

Right before dinner she came to me and said, "by the way, I'm glucose and lactose free."

"Um, yikes, sorry, but we don't accomodate special diets for staff. This might be tough."

Not to mention that I just found out about you 12 hours ago.

She smiled and told me not to worry, she'd be fine and she'd probably be eating at the local coffee shop a lot.

35 minutes later my head cook came to me, stressed out and let me know that the crazy lady had been to the kitchen to let her know what dietary needs she had and what we would be required to provide.

I don't think so.

You don't get to lie to my face and go behind my back within the first hour you are here.

So I called her supervisor and let her know it wasn't working out.

Hopefully the week will go a little more smoothly from here....

Seriously?!?!...

11pm (Thursday night)- After a long day, I am finally getting in the shower. I can't even remember the last time I showered and I am breathing a sigh of relief when I hear my front door crash open and my name being yelled.

11:03- I turn off the shower and yell back, "Is someone looking for me?"

"Yes, please hurry, we need you in the main lodge."

UGH.

I dry off and put my sweaty clothes back on and hurry out to find Counselor B, slightly frantic. "Counselor Jn... prank... yelling... naked... upset... she needs you."

From what I was able to decipher, something went wrong in the prank Jn's cabin was trying to pull. Before heading to deal with the situation, I went next door to get S. With two cabins involved, this seemed like something I might need some extra assistance. Except that she was in the shower, so I had A come instead. Except that A has a tendency, in her 20 year old, first experience with power way, to get a little excited and react by screaming and being really impatient. I briefly considered waiting for S or making her get out of the shower, but I took my chances and hoped for the best.

I met with the girls in Jn's cabin and sent A to go get the boys they'd pranked. The girls' version went like this- they went to the boys cabin to hide and then jump out and scare them. When the boys discovered them, they started swearing and yelling and then threatened to take off their pants and "give the girls a show".

Jn, in her overly dramatic, way too intense way, made it way worse by screaming at the boys and riling up the girls. By the time I got to them, they were feeling like victims of a hate crime.

Ugh.

I talked with them for about 10 minutes, processing through their feelings and commending them on being mature and handling it well. I sent them to bed and headed upstairs to deal with the boys.

The boys' version was that they had no idea the girls were there and they were just innocently getting ready for bed. They were kind of a rough group who'd had some attitude and other issues through the week, so I was inclined to lean more towards the girls, but since none of the counselors had actually witnessed it, I never really got a clear answer. We talked about being good role models and appropriate behavior and blah blah blah... I just wanted to shower and go to bed.

I was super annoyed at all counselors involved and was doing my best to not take everyone aside and yell... like, really yell, a lot. E and Jo knew the prank was going to happen, knew their boys wouldn't react well, knew it was hysterical Jn's cabin and yet, did NOTHING to stop it. Apparently letting it play out and "seeing what would happen" seemed like the best option. They were quite a ways behind their boys on the way back to the cabin, meaning that they basically left the boys alone to go in and be surprised on their own.

One girl in Jn's cabin didn't participate, so despite 27 reasons not to (I could list them, but I won't), Jn stood outside the cabin, leaving her girls alone to pull this prank without any supervision.

I wanted to shake all of my staff. I was counting to 10 over and over and taking deep breaths, imagining margaritas and trying to get to a "happy place". Eventually I sent them to bed too since there was really nothing I could do without a clear story.

This morning I met with both groups and there was a mutual apology and agreement to put it behind us and blah blah blah, I might need to start carrying a flask in my fanny pack.

I decided that when this story was retold by the 12 year olds involved, swearing, nudity, etc was going to translate far more dramatic than it actually was and I should probably send a letter to the parents, letting them know I'd dealt with it and no one was the victim of indecent exposure.

As I sat down to write this letter (did I mention one of the groups included a board member's kid? Ugh!!!!), I got a call from Business Manager J, who was on her way up to camp from the city. Apparently the main highway leading to camp was literally being closed behind her (in both directions). I sent out a quick email alerting parents, but when 10 "out of the office" replies came back to me, I decided we needed to call them so as to avoid late, crabby parents and a delayed Parent Day.

With Closing Camper Ceremony supposed to have started 3 minutes earlier, I typed a script, showed A how to look up phone numbers, handed a Junior Counselor my cell phone and rushed off to closing. On a positive note, between S, A and two junior counselors, they called all of the parents by the time I was done with the ceremony and I didn't have to deal with it.

I went back to typing my letter, but J arrived and wanted to explain every piece of paperwork she'd brought, while simultaneously proofreading my letter, while telling 8 stories, while touching everything on my desk. The dogs were playing, loudly, in the middle of the office, as these bulldogs do regularly, so J kept getting louder to be heard over the barking and crashing. It was ridiculous and my head was starting to spin. Nurse J, S, A and I listened and followed along with her multiple trains of thought until a ROAR from overhead sent all of us rushing outside.

A giant helicopter was circling camp. It was so close that we could see someone lean out and wave at us. 8 times. That's how many times it buzzed by. Super cool the first time around, but by the end, I was just annoyed at the noise. At that point I was thinking, "is this day for real?!"

Still working on my letter, an email popped up from my brother. My stove and my dishwasher are both currently broken... I'm not sure how that happened, and I'm hoping "service plus" (which I pay an additional fee to my electricity company each month to have free service on my appliances) can fix both without any major cost or the need to replace them. Probably not a big deal, except that the timing was such that I finally threw my hands in the air and thought, "I give up!"

In the end, I finished the letter and, while purposely vague, did a good job of sounding professional, serious and business-y. Several parents came up to me after Parent Day to thank me for calling and helping them avoid the construction. Kids were sad to leave and vowed they'd be back next year, and I managed to avoid raising my voice at any staff. All in all, I'd call it a success.