Rebecca Eckler is one of Canada's most talked about newspaper columnists, the author of Knocked Up: Confessions of a Hip Mother to Be, which has been translated into nine languages. Also the author of the bestsellers, Wiped!, Toddlers Gone Wild, and Rotten Apple, the first in a YA series. Random thoughts on life in the competitive world of modern mommyhood. Blog will be loved by trendy mothers who still feel, or often feel, that the most important word in "mommee" is ME!

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The downfalls of having a boy's name...

So I had a mini-freak out this morning.

The Dictator will be starting camp next week. Full days, bus pick up and drop off, swimming lessons twice a day - the whole nine yards 0 and it hit me! It hit me that THIS is the biggest thing my little girl has ever done.

I freaked out. I called the camp, feeling the need to ask them a ton of questions.

I called the camp, saying my name and my daughter's name. I was put on hold for a l-o-n-g time as they tried to find what group she was in.

Finally, the person came back on the phone saying my daughter, Rowan, was put in a boy's group. I mean, thank god I called. Right?

The good news is that because there was a screw up, she now is in her best friends group, which is good, because now my daughter won't be scared to get on that bus, even though I'm freaking out about her going on a school bus each day.

Then I asked about swimming and if they put life jackets. They said they don't, that they prefer not to, so that these kids can learn to swim.

"But if you're really concerned we will put her in a life jacket," the person told me. "But it's a little pool and extremely well supervised."

I told them I was fine with that, because my daughter loves water. But I also told them that my daughter LIES and tells people she knows how to swim when she definitely does not know how to swim.

Then I was told that a lot of the little "monkeys" - as her group is called - do that. They lie about swimming.

Anyway, I am freaking out about this whole camp experience. I keep looking at the newsletter the camp sent out with all the counsellors names and experience and thinking, "OK, this is their fourth year at this camp," "OK, this is their seventh year being a counselor at this camp," just to reassure myself that these people are going to make sure my child is alive at the end of the day.

I'm going to be like a dog, waiting at home for her everyday at 4:30, by the window. Yes, that's how freaked out I am.

But, hey, at least they know she's a girl now.