Scout Camp 2013: drop off and pick up

If you haven't heard, my son is a Boy Scout...

Dropping him off to scout camp was a little bit out of the ordinary this year. The troop planned a 50-mile afloat goal on a river, which entails needing rides to a drop off point and rides back home from the destination. So, I signed up to haul boys and leaders to the drop off. I use the term drop off purposefully in order to call to your mind when Marlin takes Nemo to his first day of school. Marlin is panicked and over thinking things; he's pretty much making a nuisance out of himself. I used this same analogy at the time in my mind to keep me from becoming the helicopter mom I never wanted to be. Ever.

In spite of myself, I kept reminding him to apply more sunscreen, wear his hat, drink water, hydrate! hydrate! hydrate!, you don't want to get heat stroke, do you?, and I would breathe and hold my tongue in between these episodes. Oh yeah, and I'd fill in the periods of non-harping, while watching him get his gear ready for launching into the river, with, "Man, it's getting really hot outside," and "Dude, I can't believe how hot it is already and it's barely 9 a.m.," and "I am so hot."

It wasn't all weird, I promise. I also told him how proud I was of him and that I love him. I made sure to buy him a little treat and some Gatorade at the last civilized stop before handing him over to the river.

To tell you the truth, when I was standing there in sight of this large river, seeing how capable my boy had become, all I could think about is how he won't be a boy for much longer. And it took my breath away. I am not a weepy person, but the feelings were so strong that I had to fill the space with talking or I might cause a scene.

Then, the scoutmaster thanked the drivers for helping them get to their destination and let us know we were free to leave. I walked over to my son and told him to give me a hug goodbye and that I didn't care if it embarrassed him; he was leaving for a week on a river. He surprised me by saying he wasn't embarrassed and gave me a hug back.

I drove away, and within thirty minutes, I missed that boy so much that I cried.

The week went by quickly. We missed him at home, but made sure to fill our days with lots of fun things like going to the drive-in, the youngest running a sidewalk shop, preparing nice dinners together, and other good times. In all the fun, it just wasn't the same without him there though. I always felt like someone was missing--because someone was.

And today, he came home. I got the call that the scouts were hitting town while out shopping with the other children, and so we wrapped things up and hot-tailed it back to the neighborhood to pick up our river warrior.

I got there quickly. People were unloading endless amounts of gear, so much so that I couldn't see where my scout was in the whole mess. As I went to park my vehicle, one of the leaders walked up to the side and he told me how respectful and good my son had behaved while on the camp. This was music to my ears. Then, I got out of my car and my son came walking over to me so grown up. How does a boy grow up so much in six days? It is astonishing. He started putting his gear into trunk area, and then another leader came over and expressed how well my son conducted himself and how capable he handled the rowing and other physical hardships they faced out on the river. I felt so proud of him. We continued to pack the rest of his stuff in a hum drum, everyday sort of way, but then he stopped and turned to me, and grabbed me in an emotional hug. As we stood there for several minutes, I felt his tears falling onto my shoulder and his arms wrapped around me, begging for the comfort of his mother; and in those minutes, I felt all the love my mother ever had for me well up inside of me, strengthening me so I could help him know how much love I have for him; I felt more aware of my role as a mother in those moments than I ever have to this point when I told him that we missed him and love him and how proud I am of him. I did not expect for him to get emotional. Things have been so difficult with the divorce (aka the emotional taffy pull), so I thought he would be so glad to get away. Not to say that he wasn't glad to get away because we all like to mix things up, but I thought that was all there was to it. But I was wrong, so very happily wrong.

I prayed every night and morning that my son would come back stronger, and I know my prayers were answered.

Before we were able to pull out of the parking lot, can you guess what happened? Yep, the scoutmaster came up to the car, poked his head inside, and told me how responsible and capable my son was out on the river and that I should be very proud of him. I replied that I most definitely am proud of him. Talk about a "proud mom moment". It's one for the record books.

Lastly, I want to express my gratitude for all the awesome leaders who have taught my son to be so capable out in nature, on a river, with no help from his parents. My heart is full.


Here is the bit of verse I wrote on Instagram to accompany the above photo, in honor of this year's scout camp:

Camelbaks and knapsacks and trashed-packed backpacks, 

that's what my little boy is made of.

Related links:

Scout Camp 2011: everlasting hopefulness

Scout Camp 2012: boy turns man 

I Dream of Genie: Part Four

We enjoyed many good times from that first late night talk to the first guitar thank you kiss to being introduced to best friends and invited into a new circle of more adult-like individuals to becoming so much in love that I felt afraid of what we shared.

And that was when it started to fall apart for me, which brings me to why I wanted to tell you about my darling Genie in the first place.

I shattered my own romantic fantasy by breaking up with him by getting back together with the love/hate relationship, best friend of his younger brother guy—twice. I was a pathetic mess because I loved my no longer a crush, genie boyfriend, but I felt tied to my long-time, unhealthy relationship boyfriend for reasons we won't go into.

Confusion reigned supreme. I didn't know how to handle it at all; therefore, I pretended like it didn't happen by picking up where I left off with the old boyfriend who felt safe despite our damaging, unhealthy relationship issues.

I know I shouldn't feel guilty over rejecting a boyfriend after so many years have gone by, but I do. I was so immature, self-absorbed, ignorant, and without a compass. My adult self is disgusted by the thought of such grotesque lack of care for someone's feelings as well as the lack of self respect I employed, but the past is the past, and it can't be redone. I guess I just really wanted to make sure the story got told in a more permanent way in order to immortalize the grand kindness I was shown.

On the other hand, I also wanted to make sure everyone knows that while I am a romantic, I have also been capable of destroying love and trust for which I am deeply ashamed. How I treated him is one of my big regrets in life. So, I will end this tale with an apology in the hope that somehow, someday he might find this story and read it:

Dear Bryan,

I could say a million things—I've even written them out then erased them—but I won't waste any more of your time with romanticized nonsense. 

I really want you to know how very sorry I am for how I disregarded you as a person when we were together. I hope you might be able to forgive me. 

Also, thank you for your kind and loving ways you showed me so generously. You taught me about things that still help me in life to this day.

Warm regards,
Laura

Anne of Green Gables and me

"But if you call me Anne,
please call me Anne with an 'e'."  Anne of Green Gables

I saw the Anne of Green Gables movies first and fell in love instantly; I fell in love with Anne's silly romanticism and finicky ways; I fell in love with everything about Gilbert Blythe; but most of all, I fell in love with the idea that somehow everything turns out as it should in the end. The books by L.M. Montgomery didn't find their way into my hands until around ten years ago, but I promise that I relished the entire series' contents in record time to make up for the severe mistake of not reading them sooner. And they are divine. I never had been brought so much into a series that I wished so hard a character were real so I could meet them.

Today, I watched the Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea movies with my children. Halfway through the day, it just seemed like an Anne sort of day, so we stopped everything after borrowing the movies from a neighbor and just enjoyed the show until they were done.

I am super emotional now. It was probably to be expected, but I didn't expect it. The music, humor, and portrayal of so much beauty impressed upon my heart the intended gladness, but I was also left with a melancholy heart. It is difficult to watch happy endings some days. I knew this happy ending would come, yet it had been so long that I forgot some of the beautifully challenging situations that get sorted out by the end of it all. Remembrance of all the loves I've ever known ending pushed me to ponder on the big question: Will I ever find someone who will love me forever and not stop?

"I'm just tired of everything…even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes…echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking." Anne of Avonlea

Please don't misunderstand. I know it's just stories, but I'd forgotten about the realism which abides in Anne's tale. Anne and Gilbert are not "love at first sight" love birds--even quite the opposite for a long while. They become bosom friends eventually, but quarrel to the brink of severing ties on many occasions. Anne entertains a false sense of romanticism, while Gilbert shows what love really looks like, and then she finally connects it all together and realizes love's face in him. Silliness, unrealistic situations, and movie sentimentality are present, yes, but the magic within the story lies in our ability to connect with the realistic parts, or, better yet, the parts which are most like the best versions of our reality. And I keenly felt how much of the reality of it is missing for me. I have an even more complicated past that I wish wasn't there to face when occasion insists.

"I have a dream...I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it...the footsteps of friends -- and YOU!" Anne of the Island

This is all really a fancy looking tantrum or pity party. I'm writing because I can't see how, who, or when I will ever find a bosom friend who will love and accept me for my regular, everyday, imperfect self. I no longer identify with Anne. And that is sad to me. I grew up identifying with her outlook on life, but can no longer imagine myself in her shoes, in any aspect.

"That's the worst…or the best…of real life, Anne. It won't let you be miserable. It keeps on trying to make you comfortable…and succeeding…even when you're determined to be unhappy and romantic." Anne of Avonlea

what you look like to me

What would it be like to have someone who takes time out of their busy day to ask about how I am faring
And really want to know
What kind of world would it be if I had even one person in my life who could see and give what I need
Without out any strings
How would it be to have one who understands, or at least attempts to comprehend, the many layers of complicated me
And loves me for it
How would it feel to know there will always be someone waiting in the wings encouraging me to succeed
Without the slightest lapse

It looks like a friend calling in the middle of the night
because they know I often can't sleep
It looks like a friend sharing and caring with all that they are
because they are assured I give all in return
It looks like every day, every time I turn this way or that
because I am surrounded
It looks like you, my friends, who continually give my dreams flight
because you are so good

the best half birthday of all time

24.

I never realized how adventurous my mom was until the day she took me to get my driver's permit.

It was on my half-birthday, so heading to the DMV made it awesome. My mom didn't even make me wait one day! Something memorable about my mom is how she made my birthdays special, and this year she made my half birthday special, too.

After I passed the written exam, we waited and waited in the line to take my photo for my permit. It felt like an eternity, but I thought it was because I was excited. No. I learned in the ensuing years to dread the brain-deadening waits at the Department of Motor Vehicles.

So anyways. We finally got my picture taken and start walking out to the car where I begin to go around to the passenger side of the car as usual. Mom says to me that it's my turn to drive. I looked at her as if she were nuts. I told her that I had no idea how to drive, and she said that now was the time. So I was pushed into driving with a permit still warm in my hand. I thought I might die, but my mother kept reassuring me that we wouldn't if I'd just pay attention and go slow.

I will never forget how I killed the car when I stopped at the first red light nor how slowly I crawled through that first green light. I think I barely made it through the intersection before the light turned red again because I kept popping the clutch and putting it into the fourth not second or first instead of third gears.  And she never yelled at me the whole way home.

It might seem like a trivial situation, but I needed to know my mom had confidence in me, and there was nothing like having me drive us home during rush hour to prove it to me. Because of her trust in me, I knew I could do it. Later on in life, I'd come to fully realize how much confidence she had in me despite my failures, and she was always there cheering me on, helping me get back on my feet.