I love diabetes camp because Mark goes off for a week like any other kid, and I don't worry about him at all (and coming just a few days after the scariest low he's ever had, that's saying a LOT). It's the one place I don't ever worry about him, because the staff includes doctors and nurses, and all the counselors have diabetes, too. I know he's well-cared for, and I am thankful he's in good hands.
So Mark was thrilled when a brochure for winter camp arrived in the mail. He was even more excited when a storm the weekend before dumped a ton of new snow on the ground.
I was less thrilled, because my sprouting son just outgrew both his snow boots and pants. (And I left them at my brother's cabin in Big Bear--otherwise, I would've crammed him into them, and told him to suck it up.) So off we went to buy him new pants and boots.
I would've settled for just snow boots...except there were none! Outside the window of the sporting goods stores, I could see snow-capped mountains. Inside, I was surrounded by flip-flops and bikinis. I really hate how stores sell clothing a full season ahead of time.
I finally found a store that not only had snow gear, but had it at a killer clearance price. I bought Mark snow boots and pants approximately two sizes too big, because if he outgrows it again before next fall, I'm going to be ticked!
Adding to the thrill of winter camp was that Mark also got to miss a day of school (this trip kept getting better!).
We met up at the bottom of the mountain with all his cabin mates, including their new mascot Rufus.
Rufus, a 7-month-old bulldog, was so ugly, he was adorable. He became a little less cute when he lifted his leg and tried to wet my shoes. His owner yanked him away just in time.
I was looking forward to a child-free weekend, and a wine-tasting trip with my friends. But the universe had other plans for us, though--all three of us got sick. Instead of traipsing the hills of Malibu with glasses of viognier, we all spent it locked in our homes, nursing colds and watching T.V. Sometimes life is just cruel.
Mark's weekend was much better. He arrived home a little miffed, because the counselors made all the kids shower before leaving. He was also a little mad about a couple camp activities--in one, they built a tower of marshmallows, and in another, they decorated cupcakes. And then they didn't get to eat either!
"What'd they do with the cupcakes?" I asked, confused.
"I dunno!" Mark shouted (he's very passionate about his sweets). "Probably threw 'em away!"
"That's just mean," I said. Kids with diabetes already have food issues--you can't give them sweets and not let them eat it. That's the whole reason for having insulin pumps! Bolus them for the food, or don't hand it out at all.
But Mark outsmarted them.
"I licked all the frosting off my cupcake, then frosted it again," he told me proudly.
"Did you bolus for the carbs?" I asked.
"I didn't have to," he said, still proud. "It was whipped cream frosting--there weren't even any carbs in it!"
I smiled. He's obviously been paying attention all these years, even when he pretends not to.
But Mark's anger was short-lived. He loved the snow, staying up late, and the sodas. He liked playing with Rufus, and staging snowball fights. He loved being independent, and eventually, after much prodding, he even admitted to missing his mom a little bit.
"I REALLY missed my cat, too!" the little stinker said. It's nice to rank right up there with the cat.
He even managed to bring all his clothes home (which doesn't always happen), including his new snow pants.
"Oh, but they're all wet," he warned me.
"How come?" I asked. I thought the point of snow pants was that they don't get wet and uncomfortable.
"They're a little big," he reminded me. "The snow went down my pants!"
And I decided that was just enough information for me. I hung the pants out to dry, and ended the conversation right there.
So even if he didn't get to eat the marshmallows or cupcakes, he still had a blast.
Wet pants and all...
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