{camp orkila, Orcas Island, WA}

Looking for summer fun for your kids?  Send them to camp.  Not just camp.  Sleep away camp.  I know it may be late for the this summer, but put in the back of your head for next year.   Most camps open enrollment in January, some even earlier.  Or, hey,  jump online and see if there are any openings for camp in August.  Big W went to camp for the first time at age 8.  {Little Man was 7.} Without a doubt, they come home from camp dirty and tired, but also a little more grown up.

Big W and Little Man have grown immeasurably from their time away.  I see the growth in three main ways:

1.  Independence

#1 and always so surprising.  They return from camp more mature and more capable than when they left.  Most importantly, they learn to navigate the world with all their idiosyncrasies without my help.  Don’t like the food, figure it out.  Can’t fall asleep, figure it out.  Not getting along with a friend, figure it out.  Not sure of an activity, figure it out.

2.  Appreciation

Oh, this is a big one.  They appreciate home, their bed, their siblings, your cooking, and your hugs a little bit more.  Distance does make the heart grow fonder and it works for kids too.  They also gain an appreciation for the great outdoors.  The camps’ locations are so beautiful they can’t help but fall in love with nature.

3.  Confidence

Quite simply, they can do it.  And when they return home, they know it.

Camp is good for you too, for all the same reasons!  You get a bit of independence {even if it is just for a week}, you miss them terribly and appreciate the energy they bring to your house, and you gain confidence in knowing you will, eventually, be able to let them go.

If I could afford it {and allow it}, Big W would be gone all summer.  Jumping from camp to camp.  Each one offers new experiences, new challenges, and a new location.  Who know which camps next summer will bring, but rest assured they will both be packed and ready.

It is said that baby rattlesnakes are more dangerous than adult snakes because they haven’t learned to control the amount of venom they inject when they bite.  They just release all their venom in one swift, deadly release.  Now, this little fact is mostly likely not scientifically sound-but for the sake of my argument let’s say it is.

I am raising a baby rattlesnake.

Little Man is a tightly wound ball of emotions.  He can go from a kind, sweet boy to door-slamming, venomous creature in a matter of seconds.  What can set him off?  His iPad not responding, losing or not performing well in a game, a change in schedule, his socks.  It is my job to teach him how to control is venom.  He 100% got it from me.  {I 100% believe it is the Italian blood coursing through our veins. While I was not as volatile or stubborn, I was a master door slammer and screamer.}  Navigating this as a family can be difficult and challenging.  In public, it can be frustrating and embarrassing.

What have I learned {and continue to learn}:

1.  Acknowledge his feelings. 

Often he is verbalizing exactly how most of us feel.  Software glitches, a strike out, traffic, homework, Mondays.  No one likes these things.   I find myself saying, “I understand it is super frustrating.”  I say it over and over.  I am not sure if it super helpful, but I  want him to know that I recognize what he is feeling.

2.  Set him up for success.  Be flexible.

I try to be ready with a preemptive strike.  I know him well enough now to foresee certain situations.  Before a our LEGOLand visit, we talked about lines and how there is likely to be long waits for rides.  We checked out the interactive online map and plotted a course to a coveted ride.  I sat out with him when he didn’t want to ride the BIG roller coaster.  Instead we wandered around {just the two of us} and found an exhibit where he could build a robot.  Sometimes he just needs down time.

3.  Let him be.

He knows what he likes and wants. When he was really young, I used to coax him or force him to do something he didn’t want to do.  Jump in jumpy houses, go on a merry-go-round, pet a dog. The list goes on and on.  Then one day it dawned on me.  If he doesn’t want to, don’t make him.  Let him be.  Well, let him be, unless it involves his education, safety or being polite.

4.  There is a limit!

He needs to know that while we do have control of many things, life is a series of readjustments and compromises.  I serve him no good, if I smooth every path for him.  And honestly, I am just not that patient.  There comes a time where enough is enough.  Time alone in his room often does the trick, for both of us.  I’d like to say I am always the calm, serene role model he needs.  Uh, nope.  I do yell and I do lose it.  {I am saving for his future therapy!}  My challenge is being consistent.

From my own experience, the outbursts decrease with age and maturity.  However, as the parent, I will just need to survive and come out on the other side of this. Thankfully, we have wonderful friends and family that care about Little Man and show great love toward him.  I appreciate their willingness to help him navigate the world and continually support me in return.  He is endearing and has a lovely soul.  I so want the world to see that!

Big W had a Little League baseball game last night.  I could tell he was going to have a great game when he struck out swinging during his first at-bat.  And I was right!  Two more turns at the plate brought swings, foul tips, and a throw out at first.  He gave a top-notch effort and had his best game of the season.  I know you are probably wondering if I am being serious, right?  I am 100% serious and seriously proud!

While I cheered wildly for his strike out, many parents looked over their shoulders-wondering if I had lost my mind.  You see, W has probably been up to bat fifteen times this season and had not swung the bat once.  Not once.  {This is actually a carry over from last season as well.}  Only he knows why.  But last night he stepped up to the plate and swung at the first pitch.

What have I learned?  Be patient with your kids.  They are not on all on the same trajectory.  It is difficult to watch your child struggle.  But, struggle teaches resiliency.  Be a great team parent.  Get to know the kids on your child’s team.  Scream madly when the kid that never gets a hit, suddenly ends up on first.  Tell those babies that you love to watch them play.  Cheer on every success, even if that success is a strike out!  Find the lessons in the game outside of being an all-star.  Encourage them to grow as person and as a teammate.  Tell them to have fun and be great.

I can’t wait to watch him play next.  Who knows, he may even get a hit!

In the last few weeks, I have been missing my Wing Man.  For 5.5 years, Little Man was my partner in crime.  We did everything together.  While big brother was away at school and Daddy was working, it was just the two of us.  I will freely admit that from the moment I became a full-time housewife, I dreamed of the day when both of my boys were in school.  My sanity hung in the balance most of the time.  I longed for adult interaction and interesting outings.  Most activities centered around him.  The park, the aquarium, indoor play, soccer class-you name it.  Carving out time for myself was nearly impossible.

When Little Man was three we found Barre 3.  The studio provided child care during the 1 hour workout.  The workout out was amazing, I didn’t have to find a sitter, and it was a perfect outing.  He loved it too. Usually bringing his own pack with snacks and a few toys.  After class, we would walk to the nearby public library, jumping in puddles on the way.  We would read a few books and spend time playing on the computer.  I would drop him off at our local play center to eat lunch and play with friends- leaving me with a quiet afternoon alone.  Tuesday and Thursdays quickly became our favorite days.   It saved me in many ways.

I hadn’t been to Barre 3 in quite sometime, but returned just recently.  I felt odd not having him with me. My boys are still not BIG in relative terms, but they certainly aren’t little anymore.  I found myself thinking nostalgically of our time together.  With enough distance, I now see how special and precious it really was!  I used to roll my eyes and grimace every time a woman would say to me, “Oh, treasure this time.  It goes by so fast.”  The thought that popped into my head {other than punching the nice woman in the face} was, “How many hours until bedtime?”  BUT now I get it.  For those of you in the middle of the preschool years, I feel your pain. I am not going to be the obnoxious girl who tells you how wonderful your life is.  I know that it is hard, unforgiving, and thankless most days.

But there are moments being written onto your heart that will be there forever.  And a few years from now, you will be driving to workout and tear up.  You will remember that little body in the back, chattering at you about cranes and semi-trucks.  Your heart will be sick that the little hand that reached for yours is now holding onto handle bars riding to school on his own.  Those darling, little rain boots are packed away in the garage as a keepsake.

So for now, I am holding onto him tightly when he will let me and reminding myself to enjoy him.  I have learned that the stress and angst of every phase will fade and what is left is wonderful, sweet memories.

While this shot is lovely, don’t be fooled.  My life does not always look like this.  Yesterday morning our selfie would have been one, very unflattering snapshot.

Little Man decided to take a quick spin down the driveway and around the cul de sac on his scooter-just before I drove him to school.  I was inside grabbing my cup of coffee and keys.  He came in whimpering and moaning.  His left knee had a huge abrasion and was oozing blood.  After a quick patch job with the materials I had on hand, I decided it would be best if we stopped by the nurse’s office before sending him to class.  And this is where the morning took a sharp and embarrassing turn for mom.  {My dear friend jokes with me that my stories would make great sitcom episodes.  Yesterday that was TOTALLY true!}

As I was holding his hand and walking into the school, I took a quick assessment of my appearance.  I had not changed my clothes and was wearing the clothes in which I had slept.  A pair of cropped sweats smeared with blood, a white ribbed tank top, a ratty sweatshirt that should not be allowed out of my house, and NO BRA.  Ok, let me stop for a moment.  I was not wearing a bra.  I am a girl that should never go braless.  Never.  Top that off with a pair of black Crocs, no makeup and morning breath and I was quite a sight!

To make it even more fantastic, Little Man asked if I could please walk with him to his class since he was so late.  I didn’t have the heart to say no.  There was no avoiding how horrible I looked, so I decided to just go with it.  I helped him get settled, greeted his teacher, and chatted with a few friends.

While telling the story last night at dinner, Aaron and I joked about looking my worst in public.  Little Man chimed in with an astute observation that I could look worse.  “Mom, you could have had messy hair, no clothes on, and been sick.”

Well, there’s that.

#motheroftheyear