And I got the morning off.
'Twas a glorious thing.
And just in case you are envisioning pine cones, log cabins, and camp fires, this "camp" is just a little program run by a local school. He's inside most of the time (it's almost 100 out there now), but he'll get to hang with his peers, sculpt Play-doh, and make sticker pictures for me. It's a two week, three-day-a-week, half-day deal, and I couldn't be happier about it.
It wasn't hard leaving, but it was hard coming back to find him crying hysterically. Apparently, some moms had come early to have lunch with their kids (they offer lunch?) and Scotty didn't see me in the mob of mothers. He just lost it. Jumped right to 'she abandoned me' and the wails commenced. It took him a solid 30 seconds for his little brain to register my presence, even after I sat in the classroom, as he stared blankly at me, trying to digest the fact that I did, in fact, come back.
And then he threw himself at me and sobbed on my shoulder for what seemed like hours, in big, wet, heaving cries. He told me he looked around and couldn't find Momma and that made him "skerred." Ah, poor kid. To be almost 3. Toddlers are totally like drunk people. That's the only way I can rationalize this behavior in my head.
The best part was after he finally calmed down and accepted me back into his life, he dragged me over to the lunch table where he demanded (huh? Where does he get off talking to the classroom helper like this?) food. I perched on a little chair, fearful my butt was going to break it, and watched as my tiny man inhaled pancakes, potatoes, an orange slice, and half of a hard boiled egg. Since when does he eat hard boiled eggs? Not only that, he used his fork the entire time and looked like a tiny lumberjack in a Cubs hat, snarfing up his breakfast. He didn't say a word. Just fork-to-mouth the entire time. (Apparently, in addition to refusing the potty all morning, he also turned his nose up at the fresh fruit snack offered earlier. The kid must have been starving). He sipped his white milk like an old man nursing a good scotch, both hands on the cup, elbows on the table.
The whole thing had me cracking up. He is seriously two going on 62.
And while he was at camp, what did I accomplish? So much. It's amazing what you can do in the span of four hours when you don't have a pokey toddler to drag.
-- went to coffee with a friend. Well, technically I had tea (and an egg white frittata) and she had coffee (and this amazing-looking, giant blackberry scone). We both took a moment to stretch our arms and admire life (and restaurants) without the constant screaming of our children.
-- bought a mattress and did some browsing at a local furniture store. Just lovely.
-- cleaned out my car. This took a matter of minutes. I've been meaning to do this for months, but never got around to it. Today, it was like the heavens parted and I finally had those five minutes to chuck all the empty water bottles into the recycling bin.
-- shaved my legs. Slowly.
-- applied makeup. Slowly.
-- talked to my mother for 30 uninterrupted minutes.
Needless to say, I love camp. We go back on Wednesday. I'll be counting the hours. But I'll be sure to arrive before those other mothers in the event my little lumberjack gets skerred.