On The Lessons Learned at Summer Camp

The Boy returned from summer camp yesterday. After 5 days of intense baseball at Clemson, we picked up he and his BFF up and headed home. They were full of stories about what was evidently a rewarding week.

I had missed the drop-off last Sunday. The Husband was of the opinion that it should be a father/son deal...however, he was "ok with me coming". Despite this warm invitation, I had to skip due to a last minute pool-party invitation for Little One's softball team. I waited anxiously for the call from The Boy to let me know how his dorm room was, and how he felt. The Boy is always a bit short on the phone, so when he finally called, I couldn't really decipher his tone. He was physically prepared for the week, having run and worked out and played ball for several weeks. But the whole dorm situation was new. He wasn't too worried, as he had the BFF along, and together, they usually feel pretty invincible.

The Husband left him with 3 instructions: 1)Challenge yourself 2)Work harder than anyone else, and 3) Have fun when appropriate. I agreed with all of these, but I had a few other roll-your-eyes instructions that we won't discuss. Being mom, I am always concerned with character and kindness...but I digress...

The Boy called the first night with a report. Tired, sore, missing home. However, these words came in between laughing and disruptions from all around. I didn't sleep much that night, because as usual, I had been given something to worry about, so I did. During his break the next day, he called to say he was fine. He had a few complaints,but all-in-all, it was good. I asked to speak with BFF, who is like son #2. "Hello second mom" he began. "I really, really need apple juice. And the bathrooms are gross." Ok, all was fine.

The Husband and I decided to take a discreet trip up the next night to watch his game. His team would be playing in the stadium, and the Husband couldn't pass up a chance to watch his son play ball on the field of his alma mater. We got there a few minutes before the game and hid, so that The Boy wouldn't know we were there. This was going fine until BFF walked by on the way to his game. Little One and I injured ourselves diving behind a pole, but we kept our cover. Minutes later, we saw him. My heart skipped a beat. I looked over at The Husband and we smiled. As he ran on to the field and over to first base, it was an exciting moment. One of those "let me remember this" moments....The game flew by. The Boy played well, and finally, we decided to come out of hiding. He was standing on second base when he spotted us. He waved and waved. Even Little One had to laugh...

The next day was his birthday. We decided to make the long drive back up to see him again. We had decided to take the plunge and get him a phone. We weren't going to leave it with him, but we wanted him to see it. The Husband found him on the practice field when we got there and held up the phone....he nodded and smiled, a little distracted by the fact that he would be pitching that night. But on a break, he ran over to say hello and take a look. "I AM SO HAPPY!" he yelled. Of course, I told myself it was because we were there...but in truth...it was the phone.

That night, he called to tell us the schedule for the last day. There would be a full morning of drills, followed by an awards ceremony. "I won't win the pitching or hitting award" he said. "The older guys are better." However, he felt he had a shot at the hustle award. His coach had complimented him on his hard work and he was hopeful. In the end, he didn't get an award, but he was ok with it, knowing that he had given it his best effort.

On the drive home, we were entertained with stories of all-you-can eat cafeterias, gross communal showers,'hot chicks' from volleyball camp, and new friendships. There were the requisite not-so-great moments. As The Boy said, some people just will not play nice in the sandbox. This is our term for guys who are just not so nice. I use to advise The Boy to "leave the sandbox" when this happens. But as he gets older, I kind of agree with The Husband that it is time to throw sand back at someone if they can't be nice...

Thankfully, the good moments much outweighed the bad. Between the experience and the knowledge learned, it was great week. And it was a good learning experience for me, too. After all, this 'letting go' thing has to start sometime. You have to sit back and hope (and pray) that the advice you have given is taken. You have to hope that you have encouraged independence. And you have to hope that you have a little luck...and things go well...