This week my girls are at drama camp every day until 4. The official end time is 2:30, but my eldest daughter, future girl boss that she is, is now assistant director. Her duties include staying late to take care of the sets and costumes. So here I am each day, sitting with my thoughts until 4, watering my fledgling tomato and basil plants, and completing coherent thoughts.
I should be packing for her month away at sleepaway camp. Honestly, I think I’m avoiding it not just because the task is daunting, but because I am going to miss her so much and I don’t want to think about her leaving for that long.
I am excited for her. I know that she will have so much fun, just enjoying summer, having access to all kinds of different activities, making friends, having the freedom to grow as a person. I know that all of that is good for kids, but I will just miss her so much.
As much as I love my time in summer with her, I know that her decision to go to camp isn’t about me, and so I would never want to stand in her way or make her feel bad about her choice. I will love thinking about her each day, having so much fun, gaining independence, trying new things, learning about herself. I’m trying to focus on all that as the dropoff day approaches.
But when I think about actually packing those bags for camp, I just can’t bring myself to get started. What I need to do is wash her entire wardrobe and her camp sheets and towels in Glamour Wash, so that it will smell so good when she unpacks. And I should make little lavender sachets for her to put in her drawers at camp, because the little creature comforts of home are nice, and because I want her to grow up to be a lady. And then I need to place a massive online Target pickup order, because it’s 2019 and I just can’t bring myself to go inside a retail establishment anymore.
Instead I’m going to organize a linen closet and plant tomatoes, and live in denial one more day.