I recently got back from a two-night overnight glamping and nature education field trip with my daughter’s school. The trip had been rescheduled from before as there was a severe bus driver shortage, so we lost our transportation. It was a wonderfully experience where the students got to stay up too late, hike in the rain, eat gross camp food, bond with their fellow students, sing camp songs, overindulge in s’mores, and grow as learners (and as humans). My daughter mostly ignored my presence the whole time. She said hello as I passed her to the bathroom the last morning we were there. One camp counselor said she didn’t even know we were related. She congratulated me, actually, on what grand parenting I had done to raise such an independent kid. As much as it hurts that she doesn’t need me, I am proud of the human she is becoming, especially that she can manage well without me. That’s our job as parents right – to make sure these kids can function and be successful on their own.
Anyway, the trip was not without its challenges. I think due to the rescheduling issues, the camp miscommunicated some needs and our head teacher misunderstood some needs. I was working with a friend and fellow parent (who I have actually known for 11 years) to make sure the trip actually happened: the details of having everyone re-sign permission slips, make sure medical forms were up to date, document food allergies, double check on transportation, etc. This friend is an extremely intense human who inserts herself into situations because she knows what’s best to get it done. At least, that’s her own opinion of herself. She tends to bulldoze situations, burning through positive connections she has with people, just to make sure the problem is resolved. Then she loudly laughs and says, “well, someone had to do it!!”
That sets the stage for when we arrive at camp with the sandwich materials that we had to stop for at a Costco because it turns out camp is NOT providing lunch that day. I texted ahead and we had a line of adults waiting to grab food from the car and handing it off to gloved adults already waiting to make sandwiches for some truly starving campers. It should have been over there – we didn’t need to rehash the events leading up to that almost-catastrophe. I made a note in my notebook that there needs to be a point person who is a parent volunteer who can communicate with the camp director for next year. DONE. But no, this type-A woman ranted and raved, swearing like a solider in front of the students about how it's not ok that things are so disorganized.
While it might not be ok that things are so disorganized, no one needs to air dirty laundry in front of the kids, who were happily eating and thankful for food, ready to take on the next event. This friend asked me before bed the first night how I remain so calm in the face of chaos. I shrugged, claiming I wasn’t really calm inside, but that it was kind of a waste of energy to freak out about it, as we had quickly solved the problem. She said, “it must’ve been because you had cancer.”
<blink, blink>
I was kind of stunned but replied with “maybe” and walked away to check on some girls who were being too loud in their room. I really did not know how to reply to that comment.
After another day of schedule changes and chaperones pivoting due to more miscommunication between teachers and camp directors, we were beyond frustrated, but the parent chaperones kept their cool among the kids (who really had no clue anything was going wrong). It was skit night and the kids had been working on their skits with their one prop. Chaperones and teachers had practiced as well. We were all nervously unprepared to embarrass ourselves in front of everyone.
Unfortunately, my friend's phone died about an hour before dinner. Brick. Nothing anyone could do. Wouldn’t charge, wouldn’t do anything. Several reset attempts later by several tech savvy people on the trip, and we told her it was futile. She didn’t agree and spent three hours using my phone to call her husband and customer service on a three-way-call. (Now I absolutely do not mind that she used my phone because I didn’t need it. We were at camp, in nature, and I took it out maybe three times to take photos and then forgot it in my backpack somewhere). They also agreed it was futile, but she was undeterred, even though she admittedly did not understand anything about phones or technology.
She was on this three-hour phone call while everyone was performing their skits. She was the only human at that camp who didn’t participate in a skit. She missed her daughter’s performance.
Because she needed her phone to be fixed. That was more important.
It's very easy for me to say that this is reprehensible. It’s a phone, not your kid. It’s a phone. A phone. Now, I was perturbed because I wanted to video tape my daughter’s skit to show her dad and brother. But because I had developed good friendships already with some parents, I asked, and they videotaped it and sent it to me. They, of course, rolled their eyes at the fact that this woman was using my phone to try to solve her unsolvable phone issue. It just wasn’t the appropriate time or place.
Anyway, the skits were clever, funny, and a hot mess that descended into chaos. All of them and it was so wonderful! The kids clapped and laughed and encouraged each other. It was so heartwarming to see them bond as an entire school.
Later that night while the kids were unwinding from campfire and their sugar rush, this friend admitted that she was “really sad” she missed her daughter’s skit. So sad, she said, that she cried while she was on my phone.
I looked her straight in the eye and said, “you CHOSE to miss her skit. You made the decision that your phone was more of a priority than your daughter.”
She looked at me, a bit startled.
“You’ve changed,” she said. I was a bit taken aback by that because I strongly believe that at NO TIME in my life would I put a damn phone ahead of my kids in any of situation. But I waited to see if she would say anything else. She did.
“It was the cancer, huh?”
It took me a minute to reply. “I don’t think that cancer changed the importance of putting my family and friends first. Maybe I’ve learned to live in the moment more. But I also don’t believe it takes an outside event for someone to change.”
There was no reply.
So, there it is. Cancer again. Getting credit for something? Getting blamed for something? At this point, I am not sure. I am not one to have my cancer experience define me, though it never leaves me. It's certainly food for thought, but for another day.
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