Thursday, July 30, 2009
I think too much
I think too much.
That's what my husband says. That's what my rather direct German friend Monica says. My waffling extends beyond leaving comments on blog posts and threatens to paralyze my entire decision making ability. In a Spring issue of Today's Parent I read an editor's column about overthinking activities when it comes to our kids. At the same time I had been mulling over whether or not to sign my boys up for summer camp. The editor had decided to quit trying to cajole her kids into cross country skiing. She just signed the whole family up and said that was that. So I filled in the registration form and got my kids in for one whole week of summer camp.
I was so worried. It runs from 8:20am to 5:15pm. The kids travel by bus to the location in a village outside of Geneva. I still don't know where exactly this location is! The program is in French. Michael still refuses to speak French and if his swimming lessons (in french) earlier this month are any indication, I have serious doubts about how much he comprehends. Lucas hates new things unless he is experiencing them from the safety of being firmly attached to the side of my leg.
On the other hand, this is CAMP. The location, wherever it may be, has a nice pool for the kids. It is in a forested area. There would be plenty of crafts, games, leisure time. It would be outside with no admonitions to stop yelling, running, jumping. It would be a low pressure environment to get Michael used to hearing French all day every day before he starts school full time this fall.
You can see how successful I was at reining in my need to overanalyze things! There was nothing to do but cross my fingers and hope for the best. Telling the boys about the camp Michael was instinctively excited, Lucas was instinctively against any such notion. I conquered Lucas by telling tales of the swimming pool and the availability of water wings (he has been obsessed with water wings). Michael skipped on our way to the drop off point. Lucas clung tightly to my arm. The time to board the bus came and amazingly there were no tears. In fact by the time the two had found a seat and were waving out the window they were both beaming.
Still, I was a nervous wreck the whole day. Are they having fun? Does Michael know what is going on? Will they eat anything (a hot!! lunch is provided)? At 5:15 we went to pick them up. "Mommy I LOVED camp" says Lucas on the way home. Phew. Michael concurs. Double phew.
Now I just wish I'd signed them up for 2 weeks...