Last week the kids went to camp. Real, sleep-away camp. They came back with the usual array of sunburn and flybites, tears and laughter, great memories and broken hearts — all the highs and lows that make summer camp unforgettable for those of us who spent our childhood going to camp. Meanwhile, I enjoyed my own getaway from everyday life.
I decided to call it “Camp Adult” and it consisted of lazy days spent in coffee shops revising manuscripts, having lunch with friends, going out to dinner with my husband, and taking in various evening entertainments like a Shakespeare by the Sea play and a downtown outdoor movie.
Midway through the week someone more savvy and sophisticated than I informed me that “Camp Adult” had some rather unsavoury connotations I had not adequately thought through. I decided to change the name to “Camp Grownup” and kept right on enjoying my break. Much as I love being a mom, we all need a few days away sometimes.