Mom Stuff

My mom left this afternoon and I'm sad she is gone. It has been so nice not to have to worry about 'X' while I am busy with staff training. I know that he's in good hands with someone who loves him. And I appreciate being taken care of too, especially when I am busy, sick and trying to balance the intense camp training schedule with a baby. I've always appreciated my mom, but now that I am a mom, and I have a tiny little human who relies on me for everything, I appreciate her even more. It's nice to be taken care of and her caring for me makes me a better mom. So I'm sad to see her go, but I know she'll be back a lot this summer.

Speaking of moms, yesterday was Nanny's birthday and she had asked me a few days ago if her mom and sister could come to camp after training ended (9pm) to stay with her in her room and they would leave the next day before training started (8am). Normally I would say no. We don't allow visitors during staff training. But it was such a pathetic request that I couldn't say no. I even suggested that they stay and join everyone for mass in the morning and leave from the church. I just couldn't stop thinking that, yes, she seems to old to want to hang out with her mom on her birthday. But then I thought about my baby and how sad I will be if I am not with him on his birthday, regardless of his age. And then I wanted to cry and so of course I said yes to a visitor during staff training.

After training ended tonight, I met with 'J' who arrived to camp today. Being present for all of staff training is mandatory and I generally won't hire someone if they can't commit to training. 'J' was scheduled to arrive on Thursday afternoon. Instead, I got a voicemail. "Hi this is 'J'. Everything is fine, but I rolled my car off the side of the road on the way to camp, so I don't think I'm going to be able to make it today... no, actually, I know I won't be able to be there today. I'll be there as soon as I can."

So, she figured out the one excuse that I couldn't possibly argue with.

Anyway, she arrived today and within minutes was literally the BEST staff member. She is outgoing, friendly, super happy, well spoken, she is perfect. I sat down with her to recap the last three days, but I started with, "so tell me what happened!"

A semi truck drifted into her lane, she went onto the gravel side of the road, overcorrected and ended up rolling her car. As in, she was hanging upside down by her seatbelt. With a smile, she told me how several nice people stopped to help her and helped break her car window to get her out of the car. She told the story so casually and she has such a naturally sunny disposition, I couldn't quite process the insanity of her story.

All I could say at the end was, "and your parents let you out of the house after all that?!" Because all I could think was that 'X' is never going to be allowed to drive, or ride in a car on the freeway, or in a car at all....

Being a mom is making me a much different camp director. When I first started out as a director, I was their peer. It was really difficult, because I wanted to hang out with them and be included, but I was separate, because I was their boss. As I got older, that separation became comfortable and each year, they seem younger and younger. But this year, they don't just seem young, when I look at them, I see babies. These are all someone's baby. It doesn't matter that they are 19 or 20. 'X' is 8 months and I have no idea how I will feel in 18 years, but right now, I feel like I want to wrap him in bubble wrap or buy one of those giant sterile bubbles and throw my body in between him and the world. And I don't know if I'll feel less protective when he's 19, but I have to think that if he rolls his car, I will never let him out of my sight from that moment on.

I'm not sure I am old enough to be a mother figure to any of them, although technically I am old enough that it is possible for me to have given birth to them. But the way I am looking at them this summer is different than ever before, because I see them with eyes of a mother, which makes everything and everyone look a little different than before.