Why I Might Run Away

I made a decision this year to scale back on the amount of summer camp to which I subjected the Tornadoes. And, subsequently, to which I subjected my wallet. So it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. Last summer, as I was only a few months into the New Job, I pretty much drove them straight from the last day of school to a 10 week succession of adventure camps, acting camps, gymnastics camps, run-around-in-a-bathing-suit-all-day-and-learn-slightly-crude-limericks-from-other-kids camps...in June it all sounded like fun, but by mid-July it dawned on all of us that we had not been free of a regimented schedule in a full year. And it was worse for them, I thought, because they were still being told at what time they could eat their lunches or go to the bathroom. By the middle of August, when all the camps rolled up their sign-in tables and sent their counselors back to college, we were completely fatigued. We had exactly nine days of actual summer vacation left. And we still had to go school shopping.

So this year, after much contemplation, I decided to cut the camp schedule down to about half. Gymnastics came first, which means one week away and two weeks locally. I did a little "Tornadoes will be away, Boyfriend and I will play" dance. And then I offered my ladies a variety of brochures describing a plethora of experiential opportunities for their other-activity-selecting pleasure. Ultimately, we ended up with a few weeks apiece of art camp. Oh, and Fifth Grader chose a week of bird-watching at the local Audubon Society, but I suspect that was mostly for the opportunity to learn new songs on the bus trips.

Things were looking up. The girls were going to get some actual downtime in between camp weeks. I would be able to hoard a bunch of days off for when The Move takes place, possibly work from home for part of the summer, and feel like a competent mother AND a responsible professional all at once. Plus, that week they would be going away for gymnastics? Pure gold. They get to have a weeklong sleepover with their friends while training intensively at their beloved sport. I get actual private time to spend with Boyfriend. Possibly with dinners at actual restaurants. Or not. Whatever. No kids! And we don't have to get on a plane and go far, far away! Which, by the way, is so not in the cards for us this summer. Because of The Move.

Well that was all fine and dandy until Seventh Grader projectiled herself over the uneven bars in May and landed all wonky on her arm. Many weeks of physical therapy and orthopedic evaluations later, guess what? No gymnastics for you, little girl. Not away, not locally, not on a house, not with a mouse.

Of course this upset her at first. But she seemed to settle into the idea that she could now potentially have absolutely no reason to leave the house - or maybe even sit upright - for the majority of the summer. She has essentially assumed the form of a cooked noodle.

Fifth Grader is upstairs right now, packing. She leaves for Away Week tomorrow afternoon. Without her sister. Naturally, she is overjoyed. Seventh Grader is in the family room right now, with a guest Tornado. They were up until 3 a.m. They just woke up and they are already bored. They want me to take them swimming.

There are eight weeks of summer left.