Roughing It (With Shampoo and Chocolate)

Our church has a Young Women Camp for girls from age twelvish to eighteenish.  Growing up, I loved it.  It was loaded emotionally.  I mean there were (huge) quarrels.  But there was also flag raising, and tuck shop, and campfire songs, and generally goofiness, and swimming in Lake Mush-a-mush, and bonding.

This is Mary's first year attending.  It starts tomorrow.  We rushed around, today, getting all the things she'll need (treats and toiletries).  I hope camp is a special memory for her.  I'm going too, as a leader for the third year girls.  Which means that I'll be able to look out for her, but from a non-smothering-Mama-what-Mama distance.  She's a little too grown up to want her mother with her all the time.  It's funny how perspective changes.  For your fifth and sixth years of camp, you're considered a junior leader.  I remember being a junior leader and feeling so old and thinking that the little first years were so cute.  Now I see junior leaders and think they're so young and I wouldn't call any of the campers cute.  They deserve words with more dignity.  Try smart, bright, zany, strong, mischievous, wonderful.

If I get a chance, I'll write.  I don't know whether there'll be good cell phone coverage at camp.  Some other things I don't know are how to be a Young Women Camp leader, how to get to the campsite, how I went from being that little sixteen-year-old junior leader to married in three short years.