Well, we reached a milestone in our family yesterday. Our first child (not our firstborn child) went off to sleep-away camp. And it was quite a moment.
Until now I’d had a don’t ask, don’t go policy on the sleep-aways. It wasn’t part of my growing up, so the idea was a bit foreign. They’re so young, I’d reasoned. Day camp is fine. We have a bungalow upstate. I’m as much summer fun as any counselor could be.
But this year, she asked to go. Which meant I had to abide by my policy and loosen my grip.
She chose a sleep-away one of her very best friends had been going to for years. She asked her cousin (who doubles as the sister the fates didn’t grant her) to go along. And she spoke of nothing else since we signed her up for her session last November.
Like her mother, my daughter is a worrier. She’s been known to call home for midnight pickups from many a sleepover party. She’s a bit quiet and can over think a situation. She longs for the just-so in a not-so-just-so world. When she elected to take the sleep-away plunge, I was a little nervous.
I listened without response for quite a bit. When she started pressing me to online register her, I tried pushing back with a few “have you considered…” provocations. Have you considered waiting until next year? Have you considered how much you prefer sleeping in your own bed? Have you considered doing that local arts camp you like so much?
Then I paused to consider whose worries I was worried about. And I wondered why I’d want to keep her from taking an amazing step forward. She’s growing up. She’s quite aware she has my worry gene, yet she chose to stand up to it, and experience something new. I should be celebrating that. And I am.
Yes, there was some last minute trepidation. The night before we drove her to camp we cuddled nose-to-nose in her comfy bed while she worried if she’d made the right choice. And I did what mothers of the brave should do, I smiled confidently (not letting an ounce of my own worry show) and told her she’d made the absolute right choice. She’s got a spirit inside that’s meant to soar, and this is one of many steps she’ll be taking to make that happen.
We said our goodbyes. Her smile was a bit frozen, but she went off with her new bunkmates without a tear. As I drove away from camp on a beautiful July afternoon, my own good mood surprised me. I thought I’d be weepy and worried about how she’d fare. But in this moment, like so many others in life, confidence was contagious. You can learn a lot from your daughter. I’m glad mine is so wise.
