I’m tired and not just because it’s midnight

This is our first week of “no school” but it’s been full of activity.  My teenagers leave for camp on Saturday (at 7:00 a.m.!) and I have the responsibility for gathering and packing the odd assortment of items on the packing list.  (Cowboy outfit?  Mask and masquerade outfit?  Outfit which can get so dirty it can be thrown away?  Formal outfit?)

It’s almost like sending them away to a pageant or something!

Also, the camp is in Canada, so because of the laws regarding border crossing, they each had to get a photo identification card at the Department of Motor Vehicles–which is swamped because of the border crossing rules–adults in our state can get an “enhanced” driver’s license, but only at certain DMVs . . . which are the same ones which issue photo identification cards.  When I entered the building with my four children, our number was 74 . . . and they were on 34.  To my utter shock, the kids were well-behaved (and incredibly friendly to an older lady who passed them hard candies–“Nips”) and the boys got their cards within ninety minutes.

I’m vaguely worried about them going to camp for a whole week.  They’ve never been away from home for that long.  I worry that everyone at the camp will be “cool” and they will be excruciatingly uncool and mocked and tormented.  I went to camp only once in my life and found it a socially unpleasant experience.  Plus it was boring.  The camp my boys are going to is gorgeous and luxurious (!) and their youth pastor and friends will be there, too.  But I worry anyway.  It’s in my job description.

Meanwhile, my younger kids are out of school and endlessly bickering.  My daughter has perfected her ability to burst into convincing tears at the slightest provocation.  Today, I said, “What is wrong?” and she lamented through her tears, “Zachary said I was disrespectful and disobedient.”  Earlier in the day they were fighting (she crying, him looking nonchalant) about whether or not she stepped on an ant or a rock.  “Zachary says I stepped on a rock, but it was an ant!”

I might not survive the summer. (Did I mention that last week my son kicked a basketball into the kitchen window?  And that replacement window panes cost $145?)

I have washed so much laundry this week but most of it is unfolded.

Tomorrow, I have to:
Pick up my 11-year old’s yearbook from school (they were delivered a week after school was out);

2)  Exchange some shorts for correct sizes at Old Navy;

3)  Meet husband at Escrow office to sign paperwork;

4)  Wash clothes, pack everything and get boys completely prepared for camp;

5)  Work eight hours;

Summer vacation . . . so relaxing.