When you decide to have six kids, you have no idea what lies ahead. I was so consumed with diapers and car seats and fancy strollers that I couldn’t think of braces, sports, tutors, summer camp and man-sized feet (at 10 years old, no less).
And the food–so.many.groceries.
When the option of summer camp came up, there was no savings account for such activities. To be honest, the cost was pretty steep, even if it meant a week on a lake in Sequoia National Forest with all of their best friends from church. Multiply that cost times two and we just couldn’t swing it.
But they had their hearts set on going, so they worked all year long, saving their money along the way. They mowed lawns, hauled trash, washed cars and recycled cans for family members and neighbors.
Two days every week, they would faithfully wake up at 6 am, get dressed and walk two blocks to their “job”. They’d tiptoe into my bedroom (yes, I would still be in bed) and give me a kiss goodbye. They would work a good four to five hours. On their way home, they’d stop at the local taqueria and buy themselves lunch with some of their hard-earned money.
Together with contributions from their grandparents, my boys earned enough to go to summer camp.
The night before, I helped them pack, making sure they had everything they needed. Diego’s asthma meds. Enough socks and underwear (even though I know Diego wouldn’t even bother showering all week). I even made sure my long-haired boy had enough conditioner and a spray bottle with water, to “freshen up” his crazy curls.
Mom, stop mothering me so much! Noah said, when I suggested he pack another pair of warm pajama bottoms.
It hurt me to the core. After I packed that fool a big bottle of Pantene, that’s how he acts? Let him freeze his skinny little nalgas off then! I powered through and continued packing, knowing he would see the error of his ways eventually. He always does.
We dropped them off early in the morning and I swear I wasn’t sad at all.
|Noah and Diego, clean-shaved and packed, ready to go!|
|My boy had to take his guitar, of course.|
I wasn’t sad until all of the kids loaded onto the charter buses and I didn’t know which one my boys were riding in. Then my daughter saw Noah’s big head of curls, waving at us.
|It was a long, six hour drive.|
Throughout the week, I stalked the campground’s photo albums, for a glimpse of my babies. It was like they were nine years old again and off on their first ever camping trip. The week they were gone passed by uneventfully, until someone messaged me on Facebook.
A little birdy told me one of your boys got his eyebrows shaved off.
My first response was, noooooooooooooo. Please God, don’t let it be Noah.
You have to understand, Noah has some serious eyebrows–he would look like a freak without them. Besides, I knew Noah wouldn’t have allowed that mess to happen. He’d go down swinging, in order to maintain his dignity and his eyebrows.
Diego? Um, no.
I knew it had to be Diego. I also knew he had to do something in typical rascal fashion for it to happen as well. I spotted a photo of Diego on the camp site again, and it confirmed my suspicions. His eyebrows were gone and he looked slightly alienish.
At least I was mentally prepared when he returned home. His father? Not so much.
|My boys with half of their eyebrows intact.|
Even without his eyebrows, Diego is still a handsome kid. What did he do to deserve this, you may wonder.
He put dead fish in someone’s bed–and he was proud of it. I told you he was a rascal.
They came home blessed and full of funny stories. I’m proud of these two, working hard and being able to enjoy the fruit of their labor. I’m not too happy about the eyebrows, but as long as it was done in good humor and he was “okay” with it–meaning, he knew something like this would happen if he pranked someone with a dead fish in their bed–I would have to be okay with it.
I’m just wondering how long it takes to grow eyebrows back in.