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Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah 

Today, I delivered Schuyler to Newark Airport, to the bus that would take her to camp. I'M FREE!!!!! I know she felt the same way. I'M FREE OF MOM!!!! Yes, we are taking a well needed break from the stresses of mother-daughterhood. For nine weeks, I am relieved of the responsibility of worrying about her whereabouts, who she is with, what she is doing, why she isn't answering her cellphone, what time she'll be coming home, etc. We cleaned her room after she left, filling two garbage bags with candy wrappers, old food, soda cans, etc. The amazing thing was that you couldn't see any of it just looking at the room. All the crap was masterfully hidden under the bed, behind the chair, inside the lampshade, beneath the computer, and in the other cracks and crevices of the bedroom. Schuyler has a talent for that. It's too bad you can't make a living at it. There seems to be some sort of alien fuzzy moldy stuff growing inside her lava lamp. How is that even possible? And don't get me started on the inside of her closet.

Much to her embarassment, I forced her to carry a small, insulated, glow-in-the-dark green lunch bag lined with ice packs, inside of which was 3 doses of her $1,000 per dose medication. I had markered all over it "Schuyler Quinn's meds. If found take to nurse's office immediately. Contents MUST be refrigerated." Why a thirteen-year-old would find it humiliating to carry such an item in front her fellow-campers I cannot say. The bag contained very important medicine for her sight-threatening eye condition. Before we left the apartment, I said to her, "whatever you do, don't lose that lunchbag." She rolled her eyes and accused me of treating her like a child. In the car, I repeated, "whatever you do, don't lose that lunchbag." She told me to stop nagging her, to cease treating her like she was stupid, all the usual teenage lines. After hugging her "goodbye," my departing words were, "do not, whatever you do, lose that lunchbag." Of course, as soon as I got home, there was an urgent message on my machine that the lunchbag had somehow been misplaced. She had no idea how that could possibly happen. She was really, really, really, really sorry about losing it. They were sending out a search party to scour the bus and hopefully find the missing meds. Oy, what a stressful day! And I haven't even mentioned the emergency 8:30 a.m. blow-dry appointment before leaving for Newark. Between the makeup, the outfit selection process, the beauty salon, you would have thought she was going to the prom and not summer camp. Oh, to be thirteen again. NOT. Actually, watching her operate, I am struck by how much harder it is to be thirteen in these days than it was when I was young. You gotta give these kids credit for navigating twenty-first century adolescence. I wouldn't want to do it. Anyway, the point is, what I'm trying to say is, my mini-me is gone and I miss her to death, the little lug.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

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