It was a big weekend, y’all. I drove my first-born two hours away from our home to summer camp in the beautiful Texas Hill Country for the first time. Few things go more against your motherly instinct than leaving your kid with strangers, in the woods, and driving away. But she was ready. Boy, was she ready. She kept saying things like, “You can go now, MOM,” and “BYE. MOM (eye roll, sigh).” I’m not embarrassed to admit I risked life and limb (aka being pushed away) to hug her and sneak a kiss onto her cheek, in front of everyone (oh, yes I did). She didn’t slug me and, I’m pretty sure, she kinda hugged me back.
As much as I’d love to be a “Free Range Kids” kind of parent, I fear I’m a little more helicopter and a little less free-range-friendly. So imagine my surprise when I didn’t spend the weeks leading up to camp freaking out about sending my child away from me for the first time (did I mention this is the FIRST time?). Weird, I know. It’s not like me to be OK with something so monumental, to not spend every waking moment trying to control the situation or imagine every possible best and worst case scenario. But, for some reason, I haven’t felt worried. The only way to explain it is that this, whatever it is, it’s a feeling in my gut. Going to this camp is the right thing at the right time for her. I don’t know how I know it but I do, and I know it in my bones. Maybe that’s what they call grace. Or maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this parenting thing. Or, most likely, I’m tired of flying that damn helicopter and I’m realizing it’s her turn to step slowly into the cockpit of her own life while I get the heck out of her way.
All this to say, I may be handling it well but I sure could use some distractions this week. I mean, I am still checking the clock every three minutes wondering, “What’s she doing now? And now? And what about now?!?” So! What are you writing about in these deep days of summer? Share your posts here, San Antonio mom bloggers. I’ll be reading them, commenting on them, and sharing them out.