Apparently each section of Beverly has free morning camp for elementary school aged kids.  You can imagine my excitement when I found out.  The perfect scenaro for both Mr. Social and myself!  We talked about it last Sunday night, woke up excited about it on Monday morning, packed a backpack, and walked right through the woods to the camp.  To be fair, “camp” is a strong word.  More like a bunch of ten year olds who need very little supervision or direction playing dodge-ball, some younger kids (Rex knew a few) trading pokemon cards (we didn’t bring ours), and a couple gum-chewing high school dudes sitting at a picnic table flossing their teeth with gimp.  Still, for my social bigfoot, this is a dream.  And because it’s basically in my backyard, I can check on him as soon as my CBD wears off.  Perfection.

Well, when it was time for me to leave Rex was not feelin’ it.  “Uhhhh, Mom I don’t think I am going to stay here.”  DAMN IT! I have very vivid memories of anxiety associated with organized childhood activities—or any activities without my mom really. Six foot Sammy had to swim in the six year old lane at eleven year old swim practice because it was closest to where my mom was sitting.  I had to have a special teacher chaperone check on me multiple times a day and night during the sixth grade overnight field trip, and I sat sobbing on the curb at the University of New Hampshire the morning after I was dropped off, calling my mom and begging her to come and get me.  Guys, I was eighteen. Separation anxiety is my jam.  So, when I saw Rex feeling unsure and nervous, I was not pushing. I told him it was no problem, and we could go home.

Before we turned to leave, he goes, “It’s good that we are leaving Mom, because without my family here with me, what if something bad happens??”  A little girl from his Kindergarten class heard him.  “Something bad?! Like, if you got TAKEN?!”  He thinks for a second and laughs.  “Taken?!! No, Sydney.  That would never happen.  What do you think people just drive around with an extra booster seat??”  He continued to laugh at the very thought as we walked home. So, even though he got a case of the weird-camp jitters, it seems I did not pass down the crazy, worst-case-scenario. total nutjob anxiety gene that I carry so proudly. Big, big win.

So here we are, spending lots of summer quality time together and driving each other nuts. I spend so much of the day saying things I didn’t think I would ever have to say. “Don’t put your mouth on that leaf, you just peed on it!”, “That pool noodle is not going to fit in your butthole.”, “Those worms will suffocate in that beer can and no I don’t think they eat shredded cheese.”  Sometimes I feel like I am living in a weird cartoon (Bevis and Butthead, probably) and I find my self pulling my hair out half of the time and laughing hysterically the other half.  It’s just me policing very weird envelope-pushing behavior all day long.

And ya know what’s not helping the cause? I have the sense of humor of a fourteen-year-old boy.  Gimme all the butt-slaps and fart jokes. I’m honestly counting down the days until it is appropriate to hit then with a jerk-off joke or a classic Triple H SUCK IT when they are little older.  Who’s the #COOLMOM now?!


And quickly—how cool is Sophie Turner? She’s the coolest of life, right?  Followed currently by Megan Rapinoe and always Miley.  And if you aren’t here for The Hills: New Beginnings, I am breaking up with you.