I never went to an overnight summer camp when I was younger, the kind that lasted a week or two, but I always loved reading books and watching movies about them.  There were so many! Think Nancy Drew, the Berenstain Bears, or Disney’s “the Parent Trap.” Even “Dirty Dancing” was set in an idyllic camp setting, and though it was a family camp, not a kids camp, didn’t the lake and the activities look fun? (And of course, there was Patrick Swayze. Enough said.)

It always seemed like the whole experience was an endless stream of carefully curated, delightful activities. I picture a camp counselor, clipboard in hand, whistle around her neck, waking up her campers and guiding them through  their days, shepherding them from one jolly experience to the next. Even when chore time arrived, nobody minded, because good work was part of camp, too.

I want to go to camp, friends.

But my son started school this week, and although it is still ridiculously hot out, school means the end of summer for us.

So after dropping him off one day, I drove home, plopped on the couch, and felt strangely aimless, like I knew there were things I wanted to do, that I should do, but without any motivation to actually do any of them.

I think this is a Carpenter Bee. One of my Instagram contacts helped identify it. Identifying insects is an integral part of “Camp Back to School.”

Enter the idea for “Camp Back to School.”

What if I could think about my daily schedule, my never ending “to do” list, in a new way? What if I could set up a nurturing routine and treat myself with the care that a fictitious camp counsellor might show me? Continue Reading…