You want to make sure you get your money’s worth when you send a kid to camp, so once Drew returned we had all sorts of questions for him.He’s not the talkative type. We took all three boys out for pizza and waited until Finn and Porter were off playing pinball before we began the interrogation.How was the food?Who were his friends?Did he get homesick?What were his favorite activities?
We got the most shocking response when Bill asked, “What was the most exciting thing that happened while you were there?”
“Well, camp has this goat, and I don’t really know why, but it hangs out with the horses, so I saw the goat a lot since I ride horses a lot.One day they had to take the goat to get his balls chopped off.”Drew dissolved into naughty giggles.
Finn wandered back and slid into the booth next to me.
“You didn’t watch them do it, did you?” I asked, wondering if the camp was more rustic than I’d previously thought.
“No, they took him to a goat doctor and he cut off the goat’s balls.”
Finn clapped his hands and laughed.“Nothing like that ever happened when I was at camp.Maybe I should have gone instead of playing baseball.”
“What’s even funnier is the reason they had to chop off his balls,” Drew said.
“It’s more polite to say that the goat was neutered, honey,” I said.
“Why did they have to chop off the goat’s balls?I mean, neuter him?” Finn asked, although I was pinching his thigh in a way that clearly meant “Do not pursue this topic because I have not explained the facts of life to your brothers and I’m sure not going to get into it here at La Dama before our pizza arrives.”
“They said you have to do that so the goat won’t pee himself,” Drew said matter of factly.
“You mean the goat will pee on himself if they don’t chop—neuter him?” Bill asked.“That’s what they said?”
“Sure.”Drew was still giggling and Finn was covering his eyes with his hands while he shook.“Why?”
“I just wanted to make sure they were giving you good information,” Bill said.
I’m thrilled to have escaped chez Glamore, as it’s been a hectic week. Porter evidently felt that with Drew at camp he had to do twice as much talking, although Drew is the quietest boy I have and it took about a week before I really noticed his absence and started missing him.
Each morning Porter and Finn have been at Bible School, and though Porter told all the teachers he was Drew the first day, the next two days he filled out his nametag “Mr. Glamore” and refused to answer to anything else.
This morning I packed my bags and hit the road to pick Drew up from camp. All the evidence I’ve seen so far in the form of pictures and letters lead me to conclude he’s not going to be glad to see me. He seems to be equally enamored of the horses and a counselor named Justin, and won’t want to live without them. We’re zoned for extra males, so Justin is welcome, but we’re not zoned for horses. Plus, I force Drew to change into clean clothes and brush his teeth every day, so he’ll have a big adjustment to make.
I’m currently in Traveler’s Rest, S.C. I listened to my entire repetoire of Better Than Ezra songs on my way up here, and relived the two times I’ve seen them live, once with the girls in New Orleans at the House of Blues, and once with Drew at the Crawfish Boil. I keep wondering when I’m going to be too old for concerts, but I just purchased Maroon 5/Counting Crows tickets for the whole family so apparently I have a few months left in me yet.
Speaking of music, I mentioned to Finn that John Mellencamp had a music career under the name “John Cougar” and he didn’t believe me. I’d always heard that his record label made him use the “catchier” (?) Cougar, but given the names bands and singers have today, Finn wasn’t having any of it.
He had some monry for iTunes, and surprised me on the way to church by playing “Jack and Diane” which he deemed “pretty cool.” I surprised him, in turn, by singing every word of the song, even the part where Jack and Diane climb in the backseat of the car and start disrobing, and he blushed.
I’d love to stay and chat, but I located a Jazzercise class in nearby Taylors, S.C. and no kidding, I’m going.
I’ve about had enough of the bad jokes. Yesterday I told my friend in South Carolina that I was stopping in Greenville on my way to pick up Drew from camp, and that I thought I’d find a Jazzercise class there so I could work out after the butt-numbing ride. She wrote:
Jazzercise? Are you serious? That is SO 80’s. I thought you were so much cooler than that, but I guess I was wrong. If you can’t find a class I might have an old VHS tape of a class hanging around here, but you’ll have to bring your own leg warmers.
Ha ha. I’d put my arms up against hers any day. I’ve been Jazzercising for eight years now, and my only complaints are that our current teacher has a fondness for playing “Freeze Frame” and that every teacher feels compelled to bring out “It’s Raining Men” every single time it rains. Other than that, though, we kickbox, dance, run, and generally sweat to cool music– they even added an Amy Winehouse arm routine.
But you don’t have to take my word for it. The Jazzerladies were on the CBS Early show a few days ago, and I dare you to watch the video of these pulsating legs and locate a single legwarmer.
We’ve been worshiping at the altar of baseball so frequently that my fanny has permanent ridges from the aluminum bleachers. We head to Cooperstown for a week of baseball on July 4 and the team is working hard to get ready for facing other 12-year-olds from across the nation.
It was only fitting then, that in atonement, and also to get them out of my hair, I sent Finn and Porter to Vacation Bible School this morning. Finn is an official helper and Porter is a participant. Drew is still at camp, wearing a pink shirt and his wallabys as he rides horses and jumps over posts.
During my three hours of freedom, I was the quintessential suburban mom. I Jazzercised. A new lady there told me I was a “great dancer” and you’d have thought the Rockettes had contacted me, I was so buzzed about the compliment.
On to the carwash, where I made out a grocery list for the week: tiny burgers and lamb pilaf from Cooking Light, Chicken Adobo and tacos with some of the mounds of venison in the freezer are on the menu. If anything stands out I’ll report back. I made some phone calls in preparation for our upcoming trip to Cooperstown, then ran by the grocery and the library to pick up a copy of Darkness Visible, William Styron’s book about his experience with crippling depression. It’s been on my list of books to read for a while, and I’m hoping that the beautiful writing will make up for the melancholy subject matter.
Porter watched “The Parent Trap” this weekend, and I should have guessed that he’d try to masquerade as his brother at Bible School, but I didn’t. It was only when his teacher told me that “Drew had a great day and was very well-behaved” that I realized he’d pulled the twin switcheroo. Finn thought it was dumb, but I think it’s one of the few tricks you’re entitled to as a twin, especially since it works even when the twins look nothing alike.
As we drove home, Finn was devastated to learn that I’d been unable to locate the tortillas at the store. His current lunch consists of pizzas he makes himself with tortillas, pizza sauce, pepperoni, cheese, oregano and Tabasco. Nothing would satisfy him but a quick swing by our neighborhood Piggly Wiggly for tortillas, and that’s what we were doing when he saw two of his friends walking down the street and yelled for the car to STOP.
The boys greeted me, but I couldn’t help noticing that one was making odd twitching movements with his neck which Finn seemed able to interpret.
“I don’t need any tortillas– we can get them tomorrow– I’m gonna go hang out,” he said and bailed out of the van.
“I bet he left so he wouldn’t have to help put up the grocery bags,” Porter said.
“You’re probably right.”
I refrained from saying that as I drove away, I looked in the direction the boys were heading and caught a glimpse of two females of approximately the same age in the distance. Dude picked ladies over tortillas. Things are changing fast around here.
The letters we get from Drew at camp are often a mixture of alarming and reassuring.
Dear Mom,
Your not aloud to have candy at camp. I miss Skittles. Also i need some cortusone really bad.
love, Drew
or
Dad,
I’ve started jumping on horses. You trot over ground poles in 2 point then jump over a pole then canter. Last nite I got sick and had 105. The nurse gave me some medisin.
I'm Anne Glamore, wife, mother, lawyer and blogger. I have three boys, and I'm desperately trying to train them to become Southern gentlemen, but that may be an unrealistic goal. At this point I'd be ecstatic if they'd quit farting at the dinner table.
If you're new here, check out the Readers' Favorite Posts below or browse through the Categories. I write about my attempts to teach the boys about peckers and sex (which we call "making googly eyes"), my struggles with hepatitis C and spine surgery, the boys' adventures with fire and pets, my mom's death from ovarian cancer, my love of cooking (with plenty of recipes) and anything else that crosses my mind. Join me on Twitter or StumbleUpon or Email me.
To Use the Pickle Player: Click the show you want to hear, press play, sit back and enjoy. To read the show notes click HERE.
In "It's Natural" I will tell your kids about the birds and the bees, but YOU must stay in the room and perform the coital finger movements.
, William Styron’s book about his experience with crippling depression. It’s been on my list of books to read for a while, and I’m hoping that the beautiful writing will make up for the melancholy subject matter.
