Packing

I sat on the futon with piles of boys clothes around me and my Sharpie in hand. Even though JD usually packs for himself, I guess because every item needs to be labeled, I was packing his gear for overnight camp. Five days equals 5 pairs of shorts/pants, 5 t-shirts, one sweatshirt, 5 pairs of socks, 8 pairs of underwear, 2 swimsuits and two towels, one bar of soap. And it was at either at the fifth pair of socks, the eight pair of underwear, or most likely the bar of soap that I started to chuckle to myself. Why was I packing all this stuff? I mean, really, no one is going to make him change his clothes the entire week if he doesn't want to. I could probably get by with two of everything, and then only in case of rain. And the soap? Never gonna happen.

None the less, I packed all the above items, plus sunscreen, shampoo and conditioner, and as I packed them I faced the cold, hard truth of why I was going to so much trouble. I was packing them because no self-respecting mother would send her kid off to camp with just a change of clothes. Even though all these clothes will be returned to me unworn, but still reeking, I was packing them up anyhow. Who did I think was going to judge me? My son? Not in a million, he'd think it was hilarious. His counselor, an under 25 year old male? As if. Some other parent? How would that even be possible? No really, there was no one to judge me but the ever vague, They.

As I packed and thought about being judged by Them I realized I've made more then a few parenting decisions based on, "What would people say?!" Mostly that works out to my kids' benefit. I hold my tongue and don't yell at them in public for instance, but still, whenever it happens, it feels a little dishonest. I really want to be the same person inside and out, at home and away. But I'm not always, so maybe, it's a tiny defiant act of honesty that has me refusing to pack a comb.