I spent a few hours poring over my guidebooks but the thing is I am just not psyched. My heart isn’t in it. I guess it is because of Nat, mostly; not knowing how he will feel about our leaving him in camp. If he is sad about it, I can’t bear it. I could write the mother of all Nat books, which Ned said to me as I drifted off to sleep last night. But what if it doesn’t help? What about the unforeseen outburst over not knowing where his dirty socks should go, or if he’s afraid at night but doesn’t know how to say it so he just yells. ARGH. You sign on for motherhood, thinking only of plump rosy babies and dirty diapers, and you never realize how much more it is. It’s language-impaired teenagers who are lonely but don’t realize it. It’s not knowing how much more your boy wants out of life, but just kind of resigns himself to a vaguely painful existence. I am not complaining, I am observing. Well, maybe I’m bemoaning.<\/p>\n
And then there’s the rest of it. I began to get excited because I found a place called Comanche National Grasslands, a park in Southeastern Colorado where there are huge dinosaur footprints, and you can’t even get to them unless you are on foot or on horseback. So I figured we’d ride! But Max and Ben don’t want to. <\/p>\n
They do want to go to Mesa Verde, but I’ve been there two or three times. I guess the thing is I am not that excited about mountainous vistas, rivers, lakes, tall pines, etc. I’m a beach girl. I love the ocean.<\/p>\n
Nat loves the ocean, too. <\/p>\n
So why am I sending him to a camp way the heck out there away from everything he’s ever known and loved?<\/p>\n
Maybe I won’t do it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I spent a few hours poring over my guidebooks but the thing is I am just not psyched. My heart isn’t in it. I guess it is because of Nat, mostly; not knowing how he will feel about our leaving him in camp. If he is sad about it, I can’t bear it. I could […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-925","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pSTth-eV","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/925","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=925"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/925\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=925"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=925"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susansenator.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=925"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}