I got home from attending my sons school camp yesterday afternoon.
3 days and 2 nights of having 75 children and 10 adults in my space.
I need my space.
I love my space.
I am at my happiest when I am alone. With a book. And a coffee. With the strong chance of a nap imminent.
I am tired. I’m tired from being “on”. Tired from being alert and moderately alarmed at the things that children in large groups say and do.
Yesterday I was so tired that when the cat started meowing at me I thought that maybe she had magical powers and that the was trying to tell me that I had a life threatening disease that her super cat senses could detect.
I thought the cat was warning me to go to the doctors because I was about to die but it turns out that I’m the only one in the house who feeds the cat so she was actually just hungry.
I should probably make a doctors appointment about my cat delusions though.
The cat has been fed. The washing has been cleaned, dried and put away.
Including the matching shirts that the parents and teachers wore because we thought it would make us look cool.
Yes. Because we thought it would make us look cool.
To a group of 10 year olds.
Camp had many highlights.
I did not cook.
I did not clean.
I had a cool shirt.
I met lots of wonderful children who are funny and kind.
While taking a group of kids at the camp cooking around a bonfire I asked the kids to go and wash their hands.
One boy came back and said “did you know if you use soap that your hands get clean really quickly”?
I did know that.
I am glad that he does too.
A gorgeous girl asked if she could sit next to me on the bus ride home.
She asked if I wanted to play eye spy.
I told her that I never wanted to speak to anyone ever again.
She thought I was joking.
I had rationed my patience threshold to last until I got on the bus.
I was not joking.
We spoke a little bit though and she sang along to the radio and was incredibly sweet.
I am writing this blog post like a diary entry to remind me how much fun I had.
Because next year it’s a whole week camp and there’s no way that I’m going.