I am more than grateful for the genius who came up with the idea for summer camp. Cause if my kids didn't have somewhere to go each and every day? They would surely have killed each other by now. However, as much as I like the idea of shipping 'em off in the morning, it is truly one giant pain in the ass to actually get them out the door.
First and foremost, it's next to impossible to wake up these Rip Van Winkles after they continuously stay up WAY past their bedtime. The summer mindset has turned them into total night owls who think it's Mardi Gras when the sun goes down. I dread having to drag them out of bed the next day because it's like poking a couple of hibernating bears.
Then there's the whole sunscreen application process. Trust me, it's no easy task to generously apply SPF to a wriggling, jiggling nine year old. And yet, they somehow have the balls to complain when I accidentally get it in their eyes. As if I am purposely trying to blind them or something.
Aaaaaaaaand there's the lunch bags and the water bottles and the beach towels and the tennis rackets and the golf clubs -- holy crap, there's so much stuff to pack! And all that stuff has to miraculously make its way from the house all the way out to the car. I'll give you one tiny little guess who ends up juggling the majority of it like a damn circus performer. Yep, you guessed it, yours truly. Cause heaven forbid the precious little campers lift their precious little fingers.
But let me just tell you, once I've finally transported everyone and everything to that glorious little drop off spot? Well, the clouds part, the sun starts to shine, and the angels sing, "HALLE-FREAKING-LUJAH!!!" And I realize that I'll gladly do it all again the next day and the next day and the next day. Cause Mama sure does love her freedom!