All four children go to sleep-away camp in 48 hours. I feel like Ralphie Parker on Christmas morning getting my official Red Ryder, carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle, with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time. I can hardly contain myself.

Did any of the children want to go to sleep-away camp? Absolutely not.

Did I let that influence me in the least? Not a chance.

In my family, I’ve observed two personality types. Those who can’t handle when someone they love is uncomfortable and those who manage others’ discomfort more easily. I’m the latter. Like a farmer, I do what’s best for the farm, not one animal. The children need a break from each other. And while they don’t think they do, the children also need a break from me. Certainly, everyone would love to stay put and drive me bat-crap crazy for the rest of the summer, but in order to grow as individuals and as a family, experiencing time apart is what’s best for our farm.

Actually G-Man almost got himself sent off to camp too earlier this week, when he was sending me lists of all the things he thought we should do while the kids are away, I let him know quickly what my intentions are for the time apart.

My list looks more like:

-finish a sentence

-read an entire chapter of a book

-sit on the couch and watch the house stay clean for hours and hours and hours

I adore my little piggies and am having a lovely summer with them thanks to Gratitude and CTFD. But, I have no problem completely ignoring all the ‘oinking’ going on about summer camp. This farmer needs to reconnect with herself and her husband, and is going to enjoy every second of these magical Twelve Days of August.