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Our older son, Eric, left for camp on Saturday.  He is 11 and this is the first time he has been away at an actual camp.  Sure it's only for a week and I do know that we have been apart for longer periods of time in the past.  But this is not the same.  This is way, way different.  He isn't at a friends house or it's not us who are the ones that are gone (as it is when his father and I go on a lil' vacation trip).  He is the one who is away from home.  He is the one who is at a place where we can't call him whenever we want and we cant go and visit whenever we want.  He is the one who is on an island that is only reachable by a ferry that stops running at 8pm.  I admit, it was me who's idea this was and I am the one who signed him up.  He was sorta reluctant to go at first.  I understood that.  I mean, he wouldn't know anyone at first.  Him going showed that he was starting to grow up and be more independent (something that all parents hope for their kids but can also be a heartache in a way).  Our lil' boy was not so lil' anymore.  We made the drive down to Long Beach so he could catch the boat that was going to take him to the Catalina Junior Sea Camp.  Oh, we knew he would have a blast and he did too.  Waiting an hour or so for them to start boarding seemed to last forever.  At first I was so glad that he was getting out of the house, away from the computer and his silly World of Warcraft game.   But after a bit I started to ask  myself what I was doing.  I was sending him to a place where he didn't know anyone.  I know if it was me I would be so scared and probably would have refused to go period.  I wondered if he really didn't want to go.  If he would have looked me in the eye and said he didn't want to go and beg me to take him home then I would have wrapped my arms around him and told him to run to the car.  He never did that.  Instead he acted like he was too old to hang with mom and dad, too old to let us give him too many hugs, and too old to allow us to show him how much we were going to worry about him.  I know he is safe and I know he has made friends and I know that this was a good choice by us as his parents.  He knows that we care about him and that we are so very proud of him and that we will miss him until he returns.   He also knows that his lil' brother, James, will be right here waiting for him when he gets home (as he always is). 

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Living in a place that has really warm summers I thought it was very important to make sure that my 2 year old son, James, knew how to swim.  I do know that 2 years old is really young so I wasn't expecting him to be ready to compete in the Summer Olympics this year but I did want him to get somewhat comfortable in water.  I got him registered in a program that would teach him some survival techniques in case he fell into water.  He would work 1-on1 with the instructor for 10 minutes each day, 5 days a week.  I had never heard of this approach before so I wanted to give it a try.  On the first day of lessons I got him all packed and ready and we made our way over to the private home that the lessons were being held at.  I knew my son would be reluctant to go to this stranger, especially because she was in the water.  He cried (as he did for that entire first week) but was holding his breath under water and floating on his back by the second day.  We were so proud of him.  We cheered like all the other parents did while their kids were in the water.  That was our job.  He is now in his 4th week of lessons (his last week).  He has learned the technique that was taught to him.  He swims under water, turns over on his back to breath and float, then turns over again to swim until he gets to the edge/stairs/etc.  Every time we witness him doing this we get goosebumps, it is so amazing.  We couldn't be more proud of our lil' boy.  We know now that this was money well spent.  The ability for a young child to be able to swim is priceless.  I encourage all parents of young children to get their kids in the water.  Get them comfortable around it.  It could save their lives someday.