Since becoming a parent I base my calendar year on the school year.
Therefore; the year is almost over.
Youngest comes home from overnight camp tomorrow and the re-entry of life begins.
It has been 7 weeks of the summer of "oldest". He doesn't have to give in on decisions like restaurants or tv shows. He has been able to walk around the house without his little brother commenting on his___ (insert anything because that's what little brothers do). I know deep down there's some kind of love between the two of them but I know neither is excited for the year to begin.
Same goes for youngest.
He has been away for 7 weeks and I'm guessing that he missed none of us except the dog.
(Or perhaps the ability to walk into the bathroom and shower without flip flops on).
He has not been told to work on his summer reading, 12 hours of math, brush his hair, wash his feet, or floss. Somehow the 15 boys he has been living with are not nearly as annoying as his brother and the minute camp begins he is suddenly the most tolerable, selfless person.
Huh, maybe I AM doing something right.
The truth is, the end of the year is hard for all of us.
We all want to be lazy and sit in sun and stay up late and eat unlimited amounts of ice cream.
We love walking around with messier hair and throw on a pair of flip flops and call it a day.
Re-entry is hard for all of us.
The car ride home tomorrow will be a silent one.
I will be wanting to ask him 101 questions (because the 8 letters I received all summer contained no vital information). I will want to know how the play was, color war, how he liked his last trip night and who was at his table. I will want to sing camp songs with him and reminisce about MY last nights of camp and how we stayed up signing yearbooks. (This generation gets gipped of this most memorable event because they no longer receive yearbooks until winter). I will remember how I would walk around the morning of pick up with tears in my eyes, clinging on to friends and counselors. We would cry even more when their parents cars drove up knowing this was really the end.
I learned the first summer that none of this will happen.
That my son will sit in the back seat in a daze while he looks out the window or at his phone. He does not want to talk about any of this with me...yet.
He simply just wants to be left alone.
I cannot take away his feelings of sadness and make it better with a hug because what he has experienced for the last 7 weeks is life changing.
Seriously? The kid is 12. Life changing?
Yes.
It's kind of like cancer.
If you haven't been there- you just can't fully understand it.
I will give him the time he needs.
I will remember not to press with questions or start nagging that he needs a hair cut right away.
I will not tell him that his feet look like they haven't been washed in 7 weeks and that his beach towels are totally disgusting.
I will not get angry when he comes home with 6 less shirts and 2 that don't even belong to him.
I will understand that the house seems foreign to him as do these three people that, even though we are his blood family, that he left behind his second family just hours before.
I recently looked through of a few of my old camp yearbooks. Not the pictures but what people signed.
I love you so much and I will never forget you were common themes.
40 years later I can testify that those words....
hold true.
Therefore; the year is almost over.
Youngest comes home from overnight camp tomorrow and the re-entry of life begins.
It has been 7 weeks of the summer of "oldest". He doesn't have to give in on decisions like restaurants or tv shows. He has been able to walk around the house without his little brother commenting on his___ (insert anything because that's what little brothers do). I know deep down there's some kind of love between the two of them but I know neither is excited for the year to begin.
Same goes for youngest.
He has been away for 7 weeks and I'm guessing that he missed none of us except the dog.
(Or perhaps the ability to walk into the bathroom and shower without flip flops on).
He has not been told to work on his summer reading, 12 hours of math, brush his hair, wash his feet, or floss. Somehow the 15 boys he has been living with are not nearly as annoying as his brother and the minute camp begins he is suddenly the most tolerable, selfless person.
Huh, maybe I AM doing something right.
The truth is, the end of the year is hard for all of us.
We all want to be lazy and sit in sun and stay up late and eat unlimited amounts of ice cream.
We love walking around with messier hair and throw on a pair of flip flops and call it a day.
Re-entry is hard for all of us.
The car ride home tomorrow will be a silent one.
I will be wanting to ask him 101 questions (because the 8 letters I received all summer contained no vital information). I will want to know how the play was, color war, how he liked his last trip night and who was at his table. I will want to sing camp songs with him and reminisce about MY last nights of camp and how we stayed up signing yearbooks. (This generation gets gipped of this most memorable event because they no longer receive yearbooks until winter). I will remember how I would walk around the morning of pick up with tears in my eyes, clinging on to friends and counselors. We would cry even more when their parents cars drove up knowing this was really the end.
I learned the first summer that none of this will happen.
That my son will sit in the back seat in a daze while he looks out the window or at his phone. He does not want to talk about any of this with me...yet.
He simply just wants to be left alone.
I cannot take away his feelings of sadness and make it better with a hug because what he has experienced for the last 7 weeks is life changing.
Seriously? The kid is 12. Life changing?
Yes.
It's kind of like cancer.
If you haven't been there- you just can't fully understand it.
I will give him the time he needs.
I will remember not to press with questions or start nagging that he needs a hair cut right away.
I will not tell him that his feet look like they haven't been washed in 7 weeks and that his beach towels are totally disgusting.
I will not get angry when he comes home with 6 less shirts and 2 that don't even belong to him.
I will understand that the house seems foreign to him as do these three people that, even though we are his blood family, that he left behind his second family just hours before.
I recently looked through of a few of my old camp yearbooks. Not the pictures but what people signed.
I love you so much and I will never forget you were common themes.
40 years later I can testify that those words....
hold true.
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