I did it. I made it through. Yes, she was the one who actually went on the trip but I assure you it was me who suffered through it.
I first heard about Outdoor School years ago, before I had kids. I heard that all Oregon school kids go on a week-long trip into the woods somewhere to learn about nature. They leave town with their classmates and teachers and it's supposed to be a rite of passage to be away from your parents and into the "wild." I remember thinking, Thank god we won't still be in Oregon when we have kids because I would never let them do that.
Ahem.
It's true, there are "camp kids" and "non-camp kids" (have you heard this episode of This American Life?) and I happen to be a non-camp kid. I never went to summer camp and we never had anything like Outdoor School growing up. Needless to say I was not keen on the idea, even before I had children. I didn't have a problem with the nature part. I liked that part, actually. I just didn't like the "no parents when they are still in grade school" part. (Again, not a camp person.) So I put Outdoor School out of my mind for years and didn't think I'd have to deal with it since I was sure I'd be raising my children back home in the Midwest. (Uh-oh, here she goes again.) But as the years went by and it became clear that we weren't going anywhere, Outdoor School was looking like a very real possibility.
The conversations started in earnest at the end of last year. I tried to get used to the idea of letting her go. She was excited about it and I pretended to be. I was still unsure of what I was going to do. But, eventually, after all of my conditions were met and after I had asked her teacher every question I could think of and she thoughtfully and reasonably responded to every one, I knew I couldn't back out. I knew there weren't any more deal breakers. I knew there was no other reason to say no other than I just didn't want her to go. So she went (of course).
She said it was amazing. Amazing. She said she absolutely loved it. She told me stories about night hikes and campfires and funny jokes and games and songs and skits and friends and cabin-mates and yummy food. I smiled and laughed and watched and listened and felt such relief hearing it all. I had been holding my breath and hoping so dearly that she'd come home to tell me those very things.
It was tremendously hard for me to let her go. I didn't want to. I worried about her every second she was gone, and I wouldn't be interested in having her go again anytime soon. Because I am not a camp mom. I am not woodsy, or an adventurous mom. I will never be the kind of mom who does this stuff willingly. But I am the kind of mom who will love you like crazy and welcome you home from your woodsy adventure with balloons and fancy cupcakes.
