Category Archives: camp

August 4, 2013 · 8:51 pm

Irony

The irony of being a mommy blogger is that being a mommy often gets in the way of blogging.  For a long while, I wrote blog posts solely during naptime.  Then, I gained a few precious morning preschool hours.  Now, I have plenty of time to write when the kids are at school or camp.

On this steamy, drizzly, dark, and thundery Sunday evening (I’m trying to set a mood here), I’m about to embark on 14 days of camp is over, school is two weeks away, there’s still summer homework to be done, and my sanity is somewhere at the end of the rainbow (I hope) parenting.

Folks, I’m leaning in.  Leaning in hard.  Yes, I’m finally reading Sheryl Sandberg’s best-selling book, and I have oodles to say and write about it!  That is, if it weren’t for the job in which I’m currently totally and completely in the weeds and for which my bosses (my kids) are far better at negotiating than me.

Today, we went sneaker shopping for school.  I bumped into a friend at the store, and as we chatted about this and that, the sales woman overheard us talking about the end of camp. [Insert dramatic music].

She said, “Camp is over?”

I said, “Yes.  Well, there are extra weeks that you can sign the kids up for, but I didn’t.”

She asked, “Why not?”

I thought, I have no fucking idea.  The next two weeks are going to be horrific.  I said, “Well, I should be able to handle this parenting thing for a few weeks.”

Should.  Oh yeah, I’m leaning in all right.

My kids are occasionally self-sufficient.  Sometimes.  Like when there’s a bowl of popcorn between them on the couch and a new episode of “Teen Titans” or “Legends of Chima” is about to start.  Then I might have a few minutes to do something besides vacuum crumbs off the couch or turn over a load of laundry.  Amazingly, though, if I even attempt to sit down at my computer – if my butt even grazes my desk chair – I inevitably hear, “Mommmmmy!”

It’s like magic.  My kids are magicians.  (Riley, especially.)

I sit.  “Mommmmmy!”

I sit again.  “Mommmmmy!”

I sit yet again.  “Mommmmmy!”

You get the idea.

No one gives a crap if I’m on my hands and knees scraping Play-Doh off the floor under the kitchen table, but if inspiration strikes and I want to sit down and write, they know.  Currently, the Xbox Kinect is entertaining both of them for 5-4-3-2…

“Mommmmmy!”

Gotta wrap it up here.

Despite my predicament, I’ve been fairly productive today.  I went for a 2.5 mile run.  I stocked up on groceries.  We successfully purchased new sneakers for school.  I baked banana bread.  From scratch.  I made dinner.  From scratch.  And even though my picky eaters remain picky with a capital “P,” we sat down as a family and ate together.  In the dining room.  With placements.  Without television.  And no one cried.  I shit you not.

(The irony of this blog post is that I wrote it to tell you that I might not have much time to write over the next few weeks.)

What are you up to?

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Filed under camp, motherhood, running, school, writing

May 3, 2013 · 12:08 pm

The Peanut Butter Sandwich

There was an incident with a peanut butter sandwich.

I packed it for his lunch.

Normally, I pack cold stuff – a yogurt tube, a cheese stick and a Babybel, a piece of fruit (apple, banana, or grapes), a crunchy snack (of the orange and salty variety), and a juice box.  I pack this same lunch for him every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

But on this day, he went on a field trip and needed a brown bag lunch.  He needed a completely disposable lunch that didn’t require a cold pack.  I thought a peanut butter sandwich would be a refreshing change.

I was wrong.

As soon as he opened his brown bag and discovered a peanut butter sandwich inside, he bolted to the garbage can and threw it out.  He threw out a perfectly good peanut butter sandwich.  I know this because I chaperoned the field trip and witnessed both the disposal of the sandwich and his tear-filled (regretful?) (embarrassed?) (scared?) eyes after he did it.

Sidebar:  I can now add “big yellow school bus filled with screaming Kindergarten children” to the list of things I’m afraid of.

Here’s the thing.  My sensory kid doesn’t like food much and he doesn’t like much food.  But he does like peanut butter.  I know this because he occasionally has a peanut butter sandwich for dinner when he’s bored of eating macaroni and cheese, bagels and cream cheese, and plain spaghetti.  I thought the peanut butter sandwich for lunch was a clever idea.  It wasn’t.  Here’s why.

There’s a reason he eats the same lunch every single day.  He thrives on the structure.  He depends on it.   My intentions were good but unwise.  Good because I want nothing more than for him to love food and enjoy eating it.  Unwise because I should’ve known that springing an unexpected food on him at school was going to turn his familiar order of things upside down.  (And what was the upside of that?)

A few months ago, I had a tearful conversation with his OT about camp this summer.  For the first time, he’s going to “big kid” day camp (vs. pre-school summer camp).  It’s going to be a big and adventurous experience, and he’s going to meet new people, try new activities, and visit new places.  It’s going to be an amazing summer, and I know in my heart that he’s ready for it.

But, here’s the thing.  I can’t pack his lunch.  I’m not allowed.  How’s he going to get through the summer if I can’t feed him?  If I can’t save him from spinning in an abyss of fear and anxiety in a lunchroom filled with unpleasant smells and food he won’t eat?

Hence, the tearful conversation with the OT.

You’ll be relieved to know that she talked me from the ledge.  She reminded me that he needs this push.  That he has to move forward.  That he can and will find his way.  That he will eat.  I also found out from the camp administrator that regardless of what’s on the lunch menu each day, the kids can always choose from an alternative menu that includes – you guessed it – a peanut butter sandwich.

So, I (selfishly) sent a peanut butter sandwich to school in a brown bag lunch as a test.

It failed.  The sandwich ended up in the garbage can before it ever came out of the plastic bag in which it was packed.

He failed.   Instead of eating it or staying calm and saying, “No thank you,” he panicked.

I failed.  I failed the most.  I should never have done it.  My attempt to get him to eat a peanut butter sandwich for lunch by surprising him with a peanut butter sandwich for lunch was the equivalent of yelling at a crying baby to get him or her to stop crying.  It wasn’t going to work.  I set him up for failure and then had the audacity to be angry with him for his inappropriate response.  (Yes, “inappropriate” is the word I used when I quietly confronted him by the garbage can.  I regretted it instantly.)

Sometimes my actions aren’t meant for the child I do have, but for the child I think I have.  (Or wish I had?)  If that sounds harsh, it’s because it is.  But, it’s the truth.  In my children’s beautiful flaws, I have the opportunity to see and face my own.

I know now (but should have known before the incident with the peanut butter sandwich) that introducing him to the lunch menu at camp must be a slow moving, delicately handled, and unsurprising process.

Isn’t it funny what chokes and humbles us as parents?  Of all the real and imagined things that have kept me up at night – and there have been many – I never thought in a million years the thing that would render me so completely unsure of myself as a mother would be a peanut butter sandwich.

What’s your peanut butter sandwich?

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Filed under camp, food, food issues, motherhood, parenting, school, sensory processing disorder