I've been busy. There are times I feel I am in wading through a bog, every step takes great effort and I end up going nowhere. I am tired but cannot rest because time is ticking faster than I can comprehend. So many things are going on at once. My daughter is growing up so fast, learning new words and doing so many new things that I barely even notice because I'm not around. My belly has suddenly become swollen with another growing child. I felt it's limbs poking at my insides all night last night. Even as I type it is running laps in my womb. Fall semester with all it's many demands are beginning to loom closer... making me dread the piles of papers that will somehow be written by me and the long hours of lecture and attempts to read books filled with knowledge that I want to learn well but will only absorb a small fraction because every class I take will demand so much more time than the other. And then there is camp.
Somehow I managed to be cooking at summer camp. Not only cooking but planning the weekly menus, ordering, and managing an assistant and whatever volunteer that walks through the door in the morning. I love camp, so much nostalgia is hidden in it's framework for all of the older generations to come and reminisce about, and so much fun is to be had for all the little bundles of energy who pile in every week. But camp is tiring. It asks for so much from every individual, and even though you know at all times that it is worth every minute you pour into it, it still drains every molecule of energy you started out with in the Spring.
Still, the combination of kids, the great outdoors, and food fascinates me daily. Particularly the food.
At home, I watch my toddler smear food into every pore on her face and into every hair follicle on her head on a daily basis. Already she is picky about what she'll eat and the result of a food not appreciated is usually violent spitting and then little fingers daintily throwing said food off of her tray. Later when she is cleaned up and roaming the kitchen floor she finds the rejected food and her dainty little fingers carry it over to the trash bin to be thrown away for good.
Observing my finicky toddler has instilled a deep fear of the combination of 50+ kids and whatever food I have on my menu. I have nightmares about tables full of kids spitting out food that I cooked and throwing it all in the trash. Everytime a long line has assembled and I lift the cover off of the main course and see inquisitive eyes drilling into their future meal I feel as small as an ant and find myself wanting a volunteer to dish it out instead because I don't want to hear questions like, "what IS that?" and "That looks funny, I don't want it." or even "I don't eat that at home, why would I eat it here!" Thankfully my fears are not really worth the time I spent on them as there are rarely leftovers and many kids end up complaining about there not being thirds. Kids that do complain or break down into hysterical sobs are usually more than happy to have a dry, mundane pb&j sandwich.
My favorite moments are when a camper comes running up to the line after a meal and shouts out that "that was THE best meal I've had and I LOVE camp because of it!" That one line can melt my heart, make me want to cry, and make the whole summer of exhaustion worthwhile... everytime.
