Sports Camp Drop Out

It should have been perfect.

We signed Roan up for Sports Camp with three other boys he knows from preschool.  He'd go swimming three mornings a week, which he loves.  They would also play soccer, basketball, and baseball, and we prepared by buying Roan his very own left handed baseball mitt, kicking around the soccer ball more than usual, and hanging the basketball hoop back up on the back of the door.  We bought him an extra large water bottle, which the parent pamphlet recommended, because Sports Camp takes hydration very seriously.  The pamphlet also informed us not be worried if our child lost weight over the course of Sports Camp, or experienced an increased appetite.  I half expected Roan to end the summer totally ripped, with super defined calf muscles, or maybe even muscled pecs and broader shoulders.

What I didn't expect was for Roan to tell me repeatedly that he hates sports.

"Mommy, I just hate sworts," he would tell me at the breakfast table, when I'd ask him why he didn't want to go to Sports Camp.

Or, "Mommy, it's too long," which was his most consistent complaint about Sports Camp.  And he had a point.  Sports Camp was long.  It lasted from 9am until 4pm.  And, it must be said, that Sports Camp was incredibly cheap.  It was such a great deal, especially for the son of such athletic parents.  Jay and I really wanted to make it work.

"Why Roan?" I would moan, "why do you hate sports camp so much?"  Because the very idea that he wouldn't like a camp that I so carefully chose for him and put so much effort into preparing him for was pretty irritating.  But for Roan, what happened at Sports Camp stayed at Sports Camp - he's never been a kid who reports much about his day.  He kept quiet, and left me repeating, "why, Roan, why?" as if I were the 4-year-old.

He whined and moaned every morning at drop off, but at pick up, we would see him smiling and laughing with his friends, walking around like they owned the place.  Reports from the counselors were mixed - sometimes he had great days, and sometimes he spent the day sitting in the corner, refusing to participate.  I don't think Sports Camp was as bad as Roan made it out to be,  but once my son declares a position on something, he rarely changes his mind.  And the word on Sports Camp was that it was no fun and he hated it.

Admittedly, I could have handled the whole situation better.  I was so frustrated with Roan's refusal to answer any of my questions, or say anything at all about Sports Camp that I finally said, "if you tell me a story about Sports Camp, I won't make you go to Sports Camp."  I made this "offer" for nearly two weeks before he finally started telling me brief stories, many of which I suspect were not true.

One day I really abused the power of Sports Camp.  I had kept Roan home because I just couldn't stomach the power struggle that morning, and he had been bratty all day - starting fights with Ilan, tearing apart his train tracks, flinging toys around.  That afternoon we were gardening in this abandoned lot, and Roan kept trying to get Ilan to climb this rusty fire escape despite me telling him repeatedly that it was off limits.  I said, "Roan Michael if you touch that fire escape one more time I'm taking you straight to Sports Camp!"  He spent the rest of our time there sitting obediently in the corner, scowling at me.

Three weeks in I threw in the towel.  Every morning had gotten worse, to the point where I nearly had to drag him up the hill to catch the bus.  It was official.  Roan was a Sports Camp drop out.

I try not to be too discouraged by this.  Just because he hated Sports Camp doesn't mean he won't like sports.  We will keep trying.  I signed him for soccer this fall on a team with one of his friends.  His friend's dad is coaching, and I'm the assistant coach.  The uniforms are black, his favorite color, and I let him pick his jersey number. He has new shin guards and new shoes.  We'll ride our bikes to his first game on Saturday.

Hopefully, our son will find a "swort" that he likes.

Grandma Mac at the Beach

Grandma Mac doesn't like the beach. She doesn't like the sand, or being dirty.  She doesn't like the water.  She must really love her grandsons, because she went to the beach every day with them, sometimes twice a day.  One day I noticed her sitting on the sand.  Just directly on the sand - no towel, no beach blanket.  She got up and there was sand stuck to the butt of her bathing suit and the back of her legs.  I'm not sure I've ever seen my mother like that.

Later, I mentioned this to Jay, who is also not a big fan of the beach.  I described how my mom just sat on the sand and he cringed and made a sour face.  "I would never do that," he said.  My husband will not come to the beach without a chair.

This is the deepest I have ever seen my mother wade into the ocean.  The water is half way to her knees!  You can see she looks kind of worried about it.

Grandma Mac seemed to worry more than most about the sand bars quickly disappearing when the tide was rising.  She would fret and call us all back, saying how the tide was coming in fast and we didn't want to get stranded.  (My tidal app came in handy during these times).

Ilan at the Beach

At the beach in Plum Island, Ilan liked to...

Drag Grandma Mac and Popi into the water

Destroy sand castles

Explore the tidal pools

Fly kites

Drag the boogie board around (just like Roan)

Jump in holes

Put sand in the big orange bucket (which I fill full of sea water so we can wash our hands)

Walk the path to the beach

Roan at the Beach

This year in Plum Island Roan invented something called The Crawly Race, which, when he said it sounded like, The Trolley Race.  It started when we were swimming in really shallow water, and Roan and I would army crawl through the water and race each other.  

Then we tried catching waves in our crawly positions. And then it just became a really silly version of body surfing.

The other thing Roan liked to do was drag his boogie board around.  He caught some waves on it, which was hugely exciting, but dragging it around seemed to be the more popular activity.

Roan also spent a lot of time building sand castles, digging holes, and making roads for his trucks to go on.  We also dug a lot of holes at the water's edge, when the tide was coming up.  (This year I bought a tidal app on my phone and was obsessed with knowing where the tide was - it fluctuated over 10 feet, since we were there during a full moon!)  We would dig a hole and then half an hour later the water would start rushing in.

These were all of Roan's favorite things to do at the beach in Plum Island.

First Day of Vacation

The first day of vacation is the best.  You're antsy from being in the car for so long, eager to explore.  It's like how they say that people are much happier on Fridays than they are on Sundays, with the expectation of the weekend ahead, rather than the memory of it having passed.  We are conditioned to always look forward.

We arrived in Plum Island in the afternoon, and after dinner we walked to the beach.  The beach was deserted and the water felt warm on our feet.  The evening - and the week ahead - was full of promise.  First day of vacation hope is so sweet that I'm not sure that any vacation can actually live up to it.  Though I think ours came close.  I mean, we still had to wash the dishes and clean up after ourselves.

Gone to the Beach

Gardening Class

During the heatwave that lasted for most of July, Roan was enrolled in a gardening class.  It was every Wednesday and Friday from 9 - 12, at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens.  The plan was to drop Ro off, and spend 3 hours wandering the grounds with Lani Lou, exploring, reading plaques, identifying plants that might work in my own garden, playing with my camera.  I was really looking forward to spending time with only one child, as I rarely get any alone time with Ilan.  It was going to be so bucolic and relaxing!  There is an excellent outdoor cafe at the gardens, with very good food.  Everything you need for a lovely morning.

But the heat.  It really put a crimp in our plans.  Some days we sweated it out, but most other days I ended up running errands during that 3 hour stretch.  Anything to get into some air conditioning.

Here's Roan and Ilan, walking to gardening class along Flatbush Avenue:

Some garden shots:

Ilan and I discovered most everything in the gardens.  I learned that he likes to sniff plants and herbs, and he does not like to hold worms.  He likes to run through the sprinklers, and splash in the stream.  He loves lemonade. (We always tried to save some for Roan, but we never could).  He is not very interested in composting.  But what he loves most of all is the jumping tree, a tree with a low crotch that he can climb and jump out of while we're waiting for Roan to get out of class.