3rd ANNUAL WEEK OF WOE

John left for Boy Scout camp yesterday. This is the week that I spend

a) regretting every bad thought I've had about him over the last couple of weeks
and
b) praying that he doesn't get lost or electrocuted

He is a frustration and a delight all rolled up into one package. He is his father. And every time he gets me rolling down the hill I think to myself "Self. He's just like Charlie. Do you remember how obnoxious Charlie was in the seventh grade?" and I think to myself "Why yes, I do. But back in the day, I had the luxury of not speaking to Charlie for weeks at a time when he went on one of his 'I'm right and you're wrong!' tangents. And I quite liked it that way." So I spend the week reviewing and regretting and praying.

Like the last three days before camp when I kept reminding him that he needed to take his list and start getting his things together. And how I finally had to force him to go upstairs and get it done and he couldn't come down till he was through with the job. And then he finally asked me to come upstairs and help him check everything off the list. But every time I would make a suggestion he would tell me that I was wrong, why he didn't need it, etc. I won the battle over how many pair of underwear to take. And we had a very heated discussion over the fact that he didn't want to take his compass "Mom, I'm not taking orienteering!" "I know but you're a Boy Scout and you're supposed to carry one in case you get lost! 'Be Prepared' and all that!" Well, he took the compass, but I know darn well that it's sitting in the bottom of his footlocker where it will remain for the duration of the week.

And how I got onto him for creating soap and lotion containers out of those little egg things that come out of gumball machines with prizes in them. "What are you doing! Those are gonna leak everywhere!" "No they're not, I hot glued them." "But hot glue won't hold when it's hot outside!" "Yes it will!"

Or, "Mom, will you do for me, what Kyle's mom does for him?" "What does she do?" "She sends him a care package with beef jerky and cookies and M & M's and stuff." "But you guys aren't supposed to keep any food in your tents." "I know, we have to eat it all that day and Kyle shares with us." "So if Kyle's mom is sending all that stuff won't it be too much if I send more?"

Or this pleasant little exchange we had last Tuesday, "Mom, you need to give Melee' a week break from video games, he's playing them way too much." "Well, if I did that, I'd have to give you a one week break from the T.V." "I'm getting a one week break next week. He's addicted to playing those games you should really give him a break." And with steam shooting out of my ears I turned to him and said "You know what you just did? You just told me I suck at my job. This isn't the kind of job where people come around and pat you on the back and tell you your doing it right either. You've got a lot of nerve telling me I suck at my job! You can do whatever you want with your kids, but you guys are my kids and I get to decide!"

Quality parenting skills right there.

"Lord, I'm sorry bout that right there, and be with the starving pygmies, Amen."

I've already been to Walmart this morning and bought him some beef jerky, a small tube of
M & M Minis, a card, some York Peppermint Patty mints in a tin, and some Kool Aid singles. I'm still on the fence about sending him some more spending money. That child loves to purchase souvenirs, gee-gaws and crap. Of course as soon as that thought comes out my mouth, he'll be in the camp store purchasing something just for me.