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.
My eldest child was born 8 years ago this week. Looking back on the birth, i credit the experience i had personally with what motivated me to do the work i do. It wasn’t the birth i wanted, and while i have moments of it that i treasure to this day, parts of it were really scary and it’s taking me time to heal from them. I know i’m one of the lucky ones and my birth trauma is my own story. I also know that i have more tools on hand to heal and delve into the trauma than most of us have. Please read on only if you want to. 
Between 5AM and 11AM my care had to be transferred over to an OB doc. This was devastation #1. I so admired my team of midwives and felt so connected to them, having to be transferred felt like a betrayal even though my Wise Mind knew it was necessary. The doc did not have the same bedside manner or a trauma-informed framework. Ironically, it was the anesthesiologist that helped me get through the discussion that i ‘needed’ to have an emergency C-section. I remember being told that my son’s head was stuck and i was too swollen to give birth vaginally. I remember thinking that in his excitement to meet me, my baby turned a bit too much and got stuck. I remember the pain before the epidural and thinking ‘there is no way that those of us that birth can do this.’ The pain was surreal. 
My baby was born that Sunday afternoon, just as the Pride parade was starting. We saw a rainbow out of our minuscule window. It overlooked the lake and i worked hard to rid the delivery/surgery room from my mind. My baby and i worked hard on our latch, our breastfeeding, our bonding. We worked on our rest and healing. We stayed at the hospital for 3 days. We stayed together in our small shared room. We saw other families come in and out. I worked on getting to the bathroom. Devastation #7 is learning the incredible feat of getting out of bed to walk across the room to pee. Devastation #8 is being told i had to work on a poo before leaving the hospital. Yikes, how was that supposed to happen. Devastation #9 is being told that my baby wasn’t latching so wasn’t getting what he needed – i have had my period and big boobs since the age of 9, if nothing else my body was born to breastfeed! He had one dose of formula to get us through that night shift with that 1 nurse. And then i worked my butt off to get him to latch.