The Circus Is Here

So I posted about strawberry shortcake on Sunday night, and everything was great and everybody was having fun, and then someone dropped a psychological stinkbomb or something, and Levi and I were both mad, and Elias was scared and my sister was uncomfortable, and Paul was trying to sort out what had actually just happened. Honestly, I don’t know. Still.

I got up and left the table, because when this happens and I stay, things usually get worse. Leaving also escalated the situation. It seems like the only possible way for me to avoid scenes like this would be a complete personality transplant.

Full disclosure here. At the circus: great food. Also at the circus: sobbing nuclear meltdowns, mostly but not exclusively on the part of the children.

Lovely, truly.

 

So, I make killer shortcake. Also, I yell at my children, and my stovetop is probably going to be declared a federal disaster area.

I’m not telling you this so you can feel sorry for me or try to make me feel better. I’m telling you because we are all in this together, but we don’t seem to know it. I’ve talked to so many women who think everyone around them has got it goin’ on. Every one of them thinks she is the only one who cannot pull herself together.

I really think the only way to change this is to be a little vulnerable with one another. Start small. Tell one person. Don’t start with the scariest thing. Start with the laundry, like, “I am so behind on the laundry that my children are running naked from the shower to dig through the clean clothes pile for underpants.” 95% of the time the person you are talking to will look relieved, because THANK GOODNESS someone else is a mess too.

We are all just trying to get through the day. Sometimes the only thing we can offer each other is the assurance that we are not alone.

Be brave. Go first. You can always take with you the knowledge that at any given time, two of the three rings at this circus are a disaster. It’s not just you; at the very least, it’s you and me.

Well, we all came through camp with flying colors.

My friend Wendy texted me on Sunday morning. Wendy has known me more than half my life, so she knows that I have never attended any camp except outdoor ed in the sixth grade, and also that I am likely to check off all the required items on a list and pay little attention to the optional ones. I identify this as a basic survival skill, but it does mean that I sometimes miss some fun stuff. Instructions about camper mail were in the optional category on the list from camp.

Because Wendy is a very nice person, she said, “I’m sure you know this, but …” and then informed me that receiving mail at camp is A Very Big Deal. Like, multiple letters. Even for a two-day camp.

Oh dear.

So I engaged the reliable relative network and texted my sister, who promised to show up at the house that afternoon with two letters. I handed Paul and Elias writing implements and paper after they ate their lunch, and a few other people came through, too. Despite my total ignorance about the importance of mail call, Levi had a pretty good haul, really. I’ll start earlier next year, though.

Mary Lou didn’t want Elias to feel entirely left out, so she also showed up with a form letter for Levi to fill out and leave for his brother.

Elias did actually sleep in Levi’s bed during the two nights. But not because he missed his brother because he did not miss his brother. He was very clear on this point.

This was the face that greeted me at pickup. He wants to go back next year, please.

I went into the dorm room to pick up his stuff, and he informed me that his toothbrush and toothpaste were definitely in the bag because he just found them that morning! And he is much older than when he left, because now he knows he can stay up late (TILL TEN!!) if he has to. Both his group leader and the nurse gave a great report. Because there were no tablets or TV to occupy him during his vest time, he was allowed to take a friend to keep him company in the nurse’s office. She said the only time he wasn’t completely cooperative for her was during his inhaled treatment when she told him he was not allowed to talk. I said that was surprising really since he isn’t much of a chatter normally.

Bahaha. Just kidding.

Elias had some jealousy to process and can hardly wait to go to his camp day now. He doesn’t get to stay overnight, but at least it’s something.

I did fine, really. Someone asked me on Monday how Levi was doing and I said, “Well, the nurse hasn’t called me, so I assume everything is awesome.” And it was.

As we were tucking them in Tuesday night (significantly before ten, thankyouverymuch), I asked Levi if he was tired. No. Of course not. He was not tired. He was very clear on this point.

He slept for eleven hours straight.