A Grown-up’s Anxiety About Sleepaway Camp

Usually I can calm myself down when I think about my own sleepaway camp experiences; how I made some of the best friends of my life who went on to be my maid of honor, bridesmaids, and companions through many other life adventures.  I was 10 when I went for the first time, and Cooper is a bit younger. We signed him up to go with a buddy of his from school, so he already has a wingman on board when he arrives.

Clearly my laundry list of worries has a tendency to spiral out of control, so I’ve channeled my concerns the only way I know how, into action and preparation for Cooper’s 7-week journey.  I’ve stocked up on the camp clothes, putting his name into every article of clothing to avoid any confusion when it comes to identifying his shirts, shoes, underwear, and socks. As soon as I finish writing this, I am headed to the post office to mail Cooper’s first care package, so it will be waiting for him.  We’re packing up the camp trunks and I’m putting mailing labels with our home address on a stack of envelopes so it will be easier for Cooper to write his letters home (and he will have no excuse not to!) I’ve also made a tiny box of photos of his little sister, Summer, who’s 5, and will stay behind with Darren and I in the city.  Even though they argue and get on each other’s nerves sometimes, I know Cooper will miss her.

Every time I think the waterworks are about to unleash, I remind myself that our kids spend their entire childhood trying to grow up faster and be independent; our job is to give them wings so they can fly.  Cooper is leaving the nest this summer, but he’ll be flying back by the end of August, definitely an inch or two taller, and hopefully with more friends and fun memories.