The Magic of Camp Mommy

When I was in my twenties, with just two or three small kids at home, I’d take on that yawning abyss between camp and school with energy and vigor. I’d research, plan, grab a tote bag with some drinks and snacks, and off we’d go. It was fun!

And exhausting, probably.

But the Camp Mommy of my mind was coated with that magical powder that gives old memories an idyllic sheen.

So when midsummer I was faced with a week in which I had only my three younger kids, all under age eight, at home, Camp Mommy winked at me from the recesses of my mind in all its glistening nostalgia.

I can do this again, I thought. Why not give these younger kids a chance at Camp Camp Mommy, too? Didn’t they deserve it also? We’d have so much fun.