Growing Pains

This morning I did something that I shouldn’t probably have done.  I called my daughter at camp.

As I explained in my post yesterday, my daughter’s summer camp is about building independence, self-reliance AND team-building/leadership skills in teenagers through non-academic learning, like cooking breakfast for 60 people, let’s say.  When we dropped Jinny off at the camp on Sunday afternoon, she looked…well, frankly, uncertain. So, even though the camp directors were pretty specific about giving kids – especially those who have never attended the camp – time to adjust before calling, I couldn’t help myself.
 

One of the camp’s directors answered the phone.  I introduced myself and asked for my daughter.

 “Hi there, nice to hear from you, Jan – but you have called on the emergency line.  Which we need to keep open for…emergencies,” he said.

I stammered and stuttered. “I’m sooo sorry.”

“No problem.” 

He gave me another number, asked me to wait a minute before calling it, then hung up.  I did as instructed.  The phone rang and was answered.  I paused and said, “Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Hi, this is Jinny’s mom.”  Pause, uncertainly, “Can I speak with her?”

“Yes, of course…I answered the phone a moment ago,” the director acknowledged as if I was a child who needed patience and repetition in order to “get it.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I muttered. 

Suddenly, I heard my daughter’s sweet, melodic voice in the background as he explained that I was on the line.

“Hello.  Mom?” asked my daughter, sounding uncertain and a little concerned.

“Hi, sweetheart, how are you?”

“O-kaaaaay.”  Now she sounded impatient and a tad annoyed, like I was checking up on her (which, of course, I was).

“I won’t stay on the line because I know breakfast is almost over and you have stuff to do.  Is everything ok?  Are you sleeping ok?” I said, breathless after the rush of words.

“Yes, Mom.  Everything’s fine.  And yes, last night I slept ok.  Not so much the night before.”

“Oh….”

“But I’m fine, Mom.” She sounded like she wanted to get off the phone fast.

“Are you making new friends?” I asked, oblivious to her desire to hang up.

“Yes….”

“Great.”

“Yup.”

“Dad and I miss you and love you.”

“Yup.”

“I guess I better let you go?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll call again soon.”

“Ok.”

I didn’t have the heart to remind her about reading one of her summer school assignment books while she was there.  Or that I had written her a note for every day this week (at my friend’s suggestion) and wondered if she’d read one. (My daughter hates to read.  Anything.) 

“Ok, then,” I said, a little crestfallen.  “I guess it’s time to say bye, sweetheart.”

She clearly hadn’t read my Monday or my Tuesday notes. 

“Ok, bye.  Love you, mom.”

Click.

I immediately called my husband to give him a status report on our daughter, and he quickly suggested that I stay off the phone until this weekend.

So, on Thursday, I’ll FedEx a care package for Saturday delivery, filled with candy, seaweed snack, a digital camera and some more notes that likely won’t get read.  On Sunday, I’ll call again. 

The growing pains are mine.