My 16-year old son Lewis is going to be an assistant counselor at a sleep away camp in New Hampshire. It’s a paid position, one that I feel like we’re owed. After all, Lewis has spent two weeks every summer for the past eight years at this camp and I have spent thousands of dollars to finance it. I’m not even going to factor in the cost of the lost beach towels, the $50 sweatshirts that they sell in the camp shop that come in two weeks too moldy to salvage, the forgotten sleeping bag and the gone-missing digital camera that he begged to take with him last summer.
So, for the camp, the $1,000 bucks that they will shell out for Lewis to sleep in a cabin with 12 nine-year old boys, peel carrots in the mess hall kitchen and teach sailing is a bargain. Counting the overnight duty, I think that for the eight weeks of camp it works out to something like 75¢ an hour. If you subtract the cost of the stuff we had to buy to outfit him for camp – t-shirts, shorts, bathing suit, sneakers, sunscreen, bug spray as well as the new beach towels, sleeping bag and a replacement camera, it maybe that he’s working for free. But he’s not complaining. Neither am I.
Have a great summer!
I dislocated my right elbow last week (casseroles are still being accepted) and have a new appreciation for life with two working arms and ten functioning digits. As a writer, I was worried that my livelihood would be compromised and that typing with one hand would be impossible, but I adjusted fairly quickly (deadlines help – so do painkillers) and now only the shift key remains a tad tricky.
On the home front, my husband is a saint and has picked up the considerable household slack – which includes carrying laundry baskets, emptying garbage cans and slicing bagels for breakfast. But on more personal level, there are things that you just can’t ask someone else (especially a guy) to do for you.
Things like: Putting on mascara. This morning, I practically blinded myself with the mascara wand. Vanity thy name is Carol. Thank goodness Mabelline tests their products on rabbits.
Also challenging to insurmountable: Cutting my fingernails, combing my hair, putting my hair in a ponytail, buttoning my jeans, zipping my fly, hooking my bra and shaving my underarms. So if you see a wild-haired, unzipped, braless, furry-pitted, one-armed woman looking for sympathy and a tuna noodle casserole, it’s me.
At least I am wearing eye make-up.