I delivered my two boys, ages 10 and 13 to their overnight summer camp on Georgian Bay yesterday, after a week of painstaking packing. They are going to camp for 25 days and there is a comprehensive clothing and equipment list that I followed. Everything is clean, neatly folded and labeled. I have sent pre-addressed envelopes, anticipating that I may receive a letter or two. I send extra toothbrushes, bottles of sunscreen and hairbrushes, in the hope that they might be used. Despite the list, I pondered and agonized over what to pack. As for Jack and Ross- they couldn’t care less about what I have packed in their bags. They just want to get to camp and have fun.

My 15-year-old daughter Lexi is away at her camp for 5 weeks. She left a week before the boys and her departure is all a blur. Our flight home from our family vacation was delayed by a day and Lexi’s bag was lost. She had a 36-hour turnaround and less time than that once her luggage was finally delivered. Yet somehow she managed to pack for herself and hopefully has everything she needs. As long as the camp trunk can close, she can take as many clothes as she would like. It is her job to label all of her clothes, many items purchased with her babysitting money. She does a pretty good job of packing and rarely loses anything at camp.

The boys are different because until recently, neither has really cared what he was wearing and they are both notorious for losing things. The boys never take anything new to camp and do not take any clothes that I am not prepared to see lost or destroyed. Jack’s camp wardrobe is made up mostly of hand-me-downs from his cousins. I show Jack what I have put into his bag, in case he opens the bag at camp and thinks it is not his, because he doesn’t recognize a thing. Ross takes Jack’s hand-me-downs and whatever has survived of the cousin’s hand-me-downs. In the cabin group photo that arrives each Christmas, I never know what to expect the boys might be wearing. It will likely be inside out, dirty and mismatched, yet they always are grinning from ear to ear!

Jack, the 13 year old, started going to camp at age 8. When my husband and I arrived on his first Visitors’ Day, we had no idea what to expect. Was he homesick, had he made friends, was he eating enough? These questions raced through our minds as we waited for Jack to be rounded up by a camp staff member. I think Jack forgot that we were coming and he was with his cabin group on the farthest reaches of the camp island. We nervously consulted the camp director, “How is Jack?” The director replied, with a smile and a twinkle, “We are having a tough time keeping Jack clean.” We understood what she meant, as soon as Jack popped out of the woods. There he was, in the same outfit he wore when he left for camp two weeks ago, only now the shirt was inside out and he was filthy from head to toe. Jack’s face had remnants of “war paint” from the previous day’s all-camp game. The first words out of his mouth were, “May I come for the whole summer next year?” I almost cried with relief- he loved camp!

My husband wanted to start taking pictures, yet I insisted that he wait until Jack got cleaned-up. We headed to Jack’s cabin, slid his duffle bag from under his bed and when I unzipped it, I was shocked. Jack’s bag was exactly how I had lovingly packed it two weeks ago, with one exception- a wet, grimy towel was draped on top. I whirled into helicopter-mom mode and quickly unpacked his neatly folded stack of t-shirts and shorts and placed them on a shelf above his cot. I selected a new outfit for the day so that Jack would look good in all of the pictures we planned to take on our visit. Then I informed the gang that we were going for a family swim, bar of biodegradable soap in hand. The camp does not have showers; instead the boys are supposed to clean themselves in the lake using biodegradable products. Jack’s products were still in his kit bag, untouched! Soon Jack was dirt-free and into his fresh and clean clothes. I demonstrated to him how to place his dirty clothes in his dirty clothes bag, yet I do not think he heard… he was too busy catching up on the wrestling he had missed with his younger brother Ross.

The first time we visited Ross at camp on Visitors’ Day, it was his third year at camp, having stayed for 5, then 12 days when he was 6 and 7. Now he was 8 and staying for 25 days. I braced myself for his appearance and the status of his belongings. Ross’ counsellor was a seasoned veteran and knew what to expect on Visitors’ Day, so had the boys wash and put on clean clothes on the morning of our arrival. The cabin was tidy, sleeping bags straightened, lifejackets hung-up, wet towels on the line outside the cabin and bags nearly stowed beneath each cot. Ross confidently brought us to his cabin and was especially excited to tell us that his cabin had a pet- a mouse named George. I did my best to disguise my disgust- a mouse?! Ross had placed some of his clothes on his shelf, yet the majority still sat in the old hockey bag under his bed. While we listened to Ross’ camp stories, I quietly pulled out his bag, just to check on the status of the rest of Ross’ camp wardrobe. Suddenly, I felt a sticky warmth on my hands and when I looked down, my screams could be heard throughout the camp. I had uncovered a nest of baby mice, living at the top of Ross’ bag and while I was not looking at what I was doing, I had squashed or decapitated most of them! Ross’ counsellor came running and cleaned up the mess, while I rushed to the lake, soap in hand to remove the carnage. George, the mouse, was a female and I had killed her family! Ross and his cabin mates were horrified!

Lexi has gone to camp for five weeks for each of the past three summers. It is an all-girls camp, so you would think that fashion would be on the back burner. Still, Lexi manages to empty her closet at home and take most of her clothes to camp. At the three-week changeover, we go for a visit, take her and her friends out for lunch and head to the local laundry-mat to wash their clothes. I am always amazed at what Lexi has brought to camp- who knew so much could fit in a camp trunk and duffel bag! Lexi always takes a “nice outfit” for the last night of camp and the grand finale dinner. She needs blue clothes and accessories for the colour team days and she needs some crazy clothes for theme days. There can be cold nights at camp, so warm clothes are essential and according to Lexi, one can never get by without at least three bikinis. Remarkably, everything usually returns home from camp, looking much the same as when it left. I guess when you take that much stuff some things are hardly worn. One year Lexi brought home more than what she had taken. One of her good friends had been sent to camp with her oldest clothes and her mom had told her that she didn’t need to bring the old stuff home. Lexi was thrilled with the newest additions to her wardrobe and my response was, “Are you kidding me?!”

I always bring a camera to the bus pick-up point in Toronto when I pick-up the kids at the end of camp. One year, Ross arrived home wearing many layers of dirty track pants and shirts along with a bandana wrapped around his head, I thought, “Perfect! Your Halloween costume is set- you can go as a hobo!” Jack came home one year with his baseball cap glues to his head, proudly announcing that he had only washed his hair once in the month. Lexi always arrives home looking as put together as when she left, having saved a clean outfit for the trip back to the city. The kids are always covered in scrapes and bug bites, sometimes with lice or impetigo, yet overflowing with joy and confidence.

When we arrive home, the bags are dragged directly to the deck, where they are carefully unloaded- George and his family are always at the back of my mind. Mismatched shoes, clothing belonging to their friends, letters on the verge of being written and mostly wet, smelly old clothing spill onto the deck. I holler to Jack, “Where is the new camp sweatshirt that I ordered?” His reply, “Oh, I lost that on my canoe trip!” The kids immediately go to the shower and soon they are squeaky clean and ready to tell us tales about camp until they crash into bed that night. I try not to sweat the small stuff as I begin my laundry marathon; thrilled to have my children safely back home after another fabulous summer at camp.