Misty-Eyed Moment

Daughter-Only was off to her milestone, rite-of-passage, fourth grade overnight field trip yesterday. Camp So-and-So is pseudo-camp, but they make you pack like it's real camp. The whole thing brought tears to my eyes. Not sentimental, my-how-the-time-flies-my-little-girl's-all-grown-up tears. No--tears of frustration and righteous indignation. Despite the fact that she's had the list of what to pack for three weeks and had repeatedly assured me that things were "under control," we were shopping the night before she left for the exact right kind of bug repellent (cream is preferred, you know--so what if every store in a fifty-mile radius is sold out?), we were calling around to borrow a fishing pole (yeah, okay, imagine a busload of fourth graders with long pointy poles that as an added bonus have rusty hooks on the ends of them), and she was doing laundry to have the right combination of clean underwear. Better yet, yesterday morning, we were labeling her clothes at 8:47, a good three minutes past when we can leave and both be on time for school/work. Best of all, we had to stop at the drugstore on the way to school to buy a mini shampoo--it was on the list even though they specifically said no one would be showering unless there was an "emergency." (By emergency they must mean something too horrifying--and amusing--to consider. Skunk spray, food fights, I don't know.)

Why put off until tomorrow what you can put off until the very last minute thereby making your mother insane and fifteen minutes late for work into the bargain?

The bus is bringing them back at 1:00 today. I'll remember to pick her up. I really will. It's under control...