Tag Archives: summer

Dear Camp Robindel

Dear Camp Robindel,

Sleep-away camp season is upon us, so I’m filling out an application for my daughter. She’s still in my womb. No, I’m not crazy.

It’s for NEXT summer.

She’ll be almost 1 and, much like all the Lermans starting camp far younger than the suggested age, she’ll be fine. But also like all the Lermans starting camp far younger than the suggested age, it won’t REALLY matter if she’s fine or not, the point is more that her mom needs a break. So she’s getting on that plane, goddamnit.

If my kid is anything like her mom, she’ll be a bit confused, under-showered, and questionably lice-infested for the first few weeks, wondering if Ann and Nat are her new parents and if this bunk is just where she lives now.  Or, if she’s like her Uncle Zack over at brother camp Winaukee, she’ll wear one Teva all summer, be covered in weeks-old temporary tattoos, smell like the dubious roped-off section of the lake, and spend all her free time, voluntarily, with the camp nurse.

The adjustment will be slightly jarring, but then the first time she receives a “free” foot-long Charleston Chew at canteen without having to write the required letter home (because is this dirty, gap-toothed, bowl-haircut kid even old enough to write? No one is certain), she’ll smile and be like, “Oh, ok. I got this. I’m going to run this place now.”

She won’t even bother to wipe the chocolate drool from her chin. It will remain there, crusted over, for two months.

So reserve a spot in Hemlock for Summer of ’19, please. Top bunk. Don’t even waste your time with a guard rail. Kid’s gotta learn.

Love,
Emily, aka “Lerman”
(9-year camper, 3-year counselor. Owner of 3 CR necklaces— 2 actually earned, and 1 because you forgot you already gave me a gold at 9 years, so you gave me another at 10. I did not correct your mistake. I just quietly pumped my fists and gleefully snatched my third necklace, which would be excusable behavior had I not been 19 years old and in charge of roughly 40 middle schoolers at the time.)

robindel

I’m Ready

Me: “I see all these parents getting weepy about sending their 4th or 5th grade kids to camp for the first time, but I don’t even have kids yet and I’m already SO excited to send them. They’ll be going to 2-month sleep away camp when they’re 7.”

Friend: “7 years old?! That’s kind of young.”

Me: “7 months old.”

img_1260-3

Celebrating Independence with Dependence

Eric surprised me with a 4th of July themed breakfast in bed (dairy-free acai bowl with grain-free granola, chia seeds, almonds and strawberries. #paleolife), while I slept for 13 hours straight and woke up feeling too lazy and unmotivated to pour myself a coffee. Thank you for this freedom, forefathers!

IMG_0066.JPG

Me: “But…where’s the blue?”

Eric: “Blueberries were six bucks. You don’t get any. Eat your breakfast.”

Happy 4th, everyone!

IMG_3883.png

 

 

June– It’s Not Good

Everyone I know, to me: “It’s June! You’re, like, DONE! You must be so happy!”

No.

Fucking, just, no. No, no, no.

I’m sure this is very difficult for non-teachers to understand, but June is actually one of the worst months of the year in our profession. June carries with it a very specific, very potent, very excruciating kind of misery that is like the 3rd cousin of, but not directly related to, the general misery that permeates months September through May.

The kids are OUT. OF. CONTROL. The end-of-year housekeeping tasks are never ending and mind-numbingly dull. Administration is in a state of perpetual pissed-off. The building is 972 degrees, whether it’s a cool or hot day outside. Makes no difference. Heat and humidity of any kind gets trapped, it rises, the air conditioner breaks (if it even worked in the first place), and suddenly you feel as though you are trapped on the E-train platform in the dead of August. Surrounded by other people’s sweaty, prepubescent children. For 8 hours straight.

It’s not good.

So please. I know you all mean well, but save the “You’re done! You must be so happy!” for June 28th, 3:01pm, and not a moment before (or 3:10pm if you want a particularly animated response, as I’ll be 7 shots deep by then).

Because here’s what’s happening now:

june1

june_2

 

(15 minutes later….)

 

June 3

 

 

Moody

I’ve been accused of being moody, but I really don’t think it’s too much to ask that everyone stay out of my damn way when I’m PMSing, when it’s Sunday night, when it’s all day Monday, or when it’s winter. The second half of autumn and any high-allergy spring is a risky time as well. Best to stay out of my damn way then, too.

I am absolutely delightful on June 29th.

f97d775350fabdf215cf234e32965866.png

 

 

Don’t challenge me

Eric thought he’d challenge me to a “Who is going to have a more stressful day at work tomorrow” contest, the night before school starts. 

Me: “I’m sorry, but you could work triple the hours I work and my day tomorrow would still be infinitely more stressful than yours.”

Eric: “I have to hit my target for the quarter or I get fired!”

Me: “I have to not hit a kid all year or I get fired!”

I won.