My Camping Village

I grew up camping with my family when a kid myself. To be honest, i don’t remember a lot of memories, but i do recall the campgrounds, my beach hair, the white lotion that covered my mosquito bites, and everything covered in sand. I do remember that i loved it, and i want to share this experience with my own family now. So this week, we went camping for our annual vacation. It was our longest time camping. As usual, it was a full trip filled with some highs and lows. The weather was mainly on our side, minus the epic storm that we woke up to at 2AM one night. Our sturdy tent lived through it and so did we.

One thing that i noticed was how i struggled with finding the right balance with how to be with my family, and have time to myself. I have learned over the years that going away with kids is not truly a vacation but rather a trip away from home. It’s work nonetheless. Doing it camping style is that much more so. Given that, i know i need to steal moments of time to myself in order to gather my thoughts, stretch, eat the last marshmallow (shhh, don’t tell them), and also to regroup in general.

So, this week i noticed a new shift that may re-define how we travel. My kids are getting older and for the most part, they can play by themselves. This self-sufficiency comes in handy when us adults are needing to set up the tent, build a fire, put away wet swim gear – you get it. This week, their play was amplified by the sheer presence of other kids. So many other kids their age. We have learned that it’s beneficial to us all to have a camp site by the playground, and it looks like other families have caught on to this as well. We shared our week at the camp and beach with at least 4 other families that we saw every day. The kids played with them at the playground, at our sites, and for the hours we spent at the beach. We joined forces in the water and shared water toys like a massive, awesome inflatable swan, and my beloved donut donut. We shared stories of parenthood. We commiserated about the work of being a parent. We took turns watching the whole gaggle of kids.

This is the epiphany i experienced: I at first felt guilty for being ‘that mom’ who lets her kids wander and bother other families: i worried that i would be judged and scrutinized for my lack of good parenting skills. I even worried that my daughter is too peer-attached and that it’s a sign that she is not securely attached to me. I felt bad for other parents who had my kids to tend with. And then i took my turn being the resident adult while they played. And you know what? I wasn’t needed at all. I was active in their play and not as a parent, but as a person. I got to float on my donut donut (it’s a donut painted like a chocolate donut) and still have an eye on the kids. Win win.

I realized that it only hurts me if i am afraid of the judgment of others. My kids were happy, and i was able to read a whole novel while camping and that was glorious. I got to work through my own version of feeling worried that i was not as good as another mom. Looking back, the parents all had a role to play and we did it our own way. I know i won’t see these families again and so i remained the best parent i could be for my kids. That’s what matters. It felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders when i realized this.

On the last day, we were all a bit sad to leave. Even though a storm was brewing, we lingered. I didn’t even learn the other moms’ names. I knew all 10 kids names though. One parent, when saying goodbye, reassured me that that boundaries don’t exist at campgrounds. I had thanked them for watching my kids and they reminded me that we literally are airing out our laundry for all to see, so why not also keep on eye out on our children too?

So, i left feeling like i was able to see both the benefit to attachment-based parenting as well as knowing that the village i cherish can also be rebuilt while away from home. It’s okay that my kids want to play with other kids. They also want to cuddle with me during a storm, play in the water together, and build our own memories.

We can be our worst critic sometimes, and fall prey to the comparison game. When we do that, it takes away from the joy of what counts most – our time with our family and being in the moment.

It Takes a Village

I’ve been thinking a lot about the support we need to be on top of this whole parenting gig. I think we have swung a bit too far away from being there for each other and instead merely being there on the periphery. I think our need to feel independent, successful, competent, and strong baits us away from asking for help, being vulnerable, and reaching out to give support too.

Recently, a friend of mine told me that she had been in my daughter’s class when a fire drill happened. My friend shared with me that she was present and noticed that my daughter was reacting to the shrill sounds. I love that they found each other, and my friend (a seasoned mom of 3 herself, among other amazing skills and accomplishments) was able to provide my wee girl with the reassurance and safety net she needed.

This is the village i speak of: One where my daughter can look to another adult in the room and seek comfort. She knows this woman as a friend of mine, as an ally to her, and as another mom herself. I love that my daughter can go to someone for cuddles when she needs it.

I also need this support sometimes too. I’ve shared already about the nurturing acts of self-care i so rely on, and the activities that provide me comfort (like going outdoors, music, creative art expressions) but i also just need a break sometime so i can come back refreshed. I realized recently that the village i need is one that provides me with a break when i ask (and also when it’s intuitively offered), acknowledges the hard work it is to raise children, and allows me to be raw – honest, messy, vulnerable, authentic, and imperfect.

So, for me the village is not one that is trying to also parent my children. It is not one that is telling my kids to eat their dinner or to discipline them for me. It is not one where i feel even more judged and ostracized. It is not one where the villagers have such different family values and parenting styles. I would love a break from the anger i am starting to feel rise up, from the frustration of yet another argument. I’d love an offer of taking my kids out to play, or to have someone else take the lead when my energy is tapped out. I need a village with others who share similar values and styles. Or at least have empathy and a loving ear to listen to me complain.

I really appreciate the great groups that have formed that find solace in our struggles, and offer a chance to commiserate as well as empower. I really appreciate when someone can pick up on another person’s struggle and offer a cup of tea, an active ear, a playdate, wine in the front yard. Groups can be on-line, in-person, formal, drop-in, or just merely a chance meeting.

If you don’t yet have a village, start small. A village needs to start somewhere – Be it a deserted island, a party of one for dinner. Find ways to build your village, create a circle of support where you know where to turn to for what support. I love this tool and use it a lot in my work, when i’m learning more about the support someone else has, or doesn’t. Having never lived in a village, i admit i have a warped sense of it. I assume there’s a vulnerability in having your dirty laundry aired out (like when you yell and your neighbours hear, or when you dump your kids’ toys in the trash for all to see). But it is also a way to show solidarity, and to feel united, and to also feel human. It can be a village that you create, grow and nurture rather than one that you are stuck in and cannot leave. You can set the tone and create your own village with a clear intention of what you need.

Do you have a village? Want to join mine? New members are always welcome.