Four days. With people he knows. Including girls.
He was some nervous. I couldn't figure out why. At first I thought it was the showers - something about doors on showers and hearing stories about camps with no doors on showers. We checked the camp website. Curtains they have. Curtains are good enough.
Then I thought maybe it's the fact that he has to shower at all. I don't think he ever showered when camping with the scouts. No girls around, hence no need to shower. Nah, that can't be it.
Maybe it's the whole girl thing. Middle school girls in swimsuits. Hmm. No, I'm thinking that's probably a plus.
Sports? Surely there isn't too much in the way of sports. Goof Ball has a C-N bar tarsal coalition, or bones where joints should be connecting his heels to his ankles. Sports hurt his ankles. But if he stays in the water, he should be fine, right?
I just don't know.
Maybe it's that his birthday is Friday and he'll be getting into town late Thursday night and he doesn't think we'll celebrate. That's probably what it is. I hope that's all it is.
Thing is, we got him something cool, something he's been asking for for six months. And I'm cleaning his room while he's gone - something I've never done for him. That's right. You heard me right. I don't clean my kids' rooms. Hopefully it will be cheerful for him.
Cleaning his room - it's made me sad. We'll be homeschooling this youngest child in the fall. He's been bullied at school the whole four years he was in. He's so ADD, poor thing, and so nostalgic and empathetic. I've been finding things in his room from his earliest childhood. Poppers, his big floppy stuffed tiger, tucked behind his bed. Got that when he was three. Beanie babies. Beginning readers.
Other things, like piles and piles of clothes. Trash. Bits of broken toys he can't or won't part with. I'm throwing away the broken things. Throwing away clothes. Bedding. He has so much bedding. It was a mess in there. I was nearly in tears all day.
|He's under there somewhere ...|
The chaos. The stuff he clings to. The clothes. The mess. The way an ADD adolescent lives. I get it. It breaks my heart. It hurts. I didn't throw away the good stuff. Really. And I don't even know how to teach him how to do it right. I still haven't learned. It hurts.
I'll have him all to myself next week while his siblings are at camp. I'm looking forward to spending time with the boy. Hearing about camp. But right now? Sad. Sad he went away to camp reluctant and nervous. Sad about the state of his room. Sad that I'm so unsure of what to do. Sad to feel it all, experience it so deeply, knowing that there's no easy answer for my sweet boy.
He truly is a sweet boy. See this boy? I'm proud of him. Glad he's mine. I love him.
Until I write again ...