Campgrown.

"She's here!!!  We can see her!!!  She's coming inside now."

They ran back and forth between the 3rd floor window and the chair I was sitting in.

Sugar was home.

Tink and Tiara hadn't planned on joining me to pick up their sister from her weekend at Camp Soaring Eagle with our local JDRF chapter.  They were actually planning to go to a birthday party with their daddy, followed by a church service while he served with the high school ministry's security team.

But then...I had a flat tire...

And, rather than make them sit on the side of the road in the heat, the three of us hopped in Mr. Rose's car...leaving HIM to take care of the flat in the heat.  (Sigh.  <insert googly eyes>  Love that man, and the way he takes such good care of us!)

So...there we were -- rushed after our little delay -- but just in time to meet the campers!

This is her THIRD camp experience in the past 10 months.  But this time something was distinctly different from last year.  This time...she just seemed so...so...grown up...

"Guess what.  I held a tarantula named Sweet Pea, and it was SO CUTE!!!"  (<---- End statement in squealing high pitched voice.)

"My horse's name was Reeba.  Did you know that mother horses can't kiss their babies on the mouth, so they kiss their withers?  The withers are like their shoulders."

"Mom, what station is this?  Can we put on Radio Disney?  Anyway, the horses were SO CUTE!"

"Everyone in my group had either celiac or an allergy.  One of the kids cried every time we sat down to eat.  He just loved his parents SO MUCH, and couldn't stand to be away from them.  I love you too, but I didn't miss you like that.  That's okay, right?  It's okay that I didn't want to come home.  I mean....

"OH MY GOSH!!!!! MOM!!!!!  This is the new Olivia Holt song!!!!  I can't believe it's on RIGHT.  NOW!!!!"

"But, yeah, this one kid -- Cade -- he caught a HUGE FISH!!!!  I didn't catch any fish.  They kept eating my worms, but never got stuck on the hook.  And I shot a yellow balloon at archery."

"I had my face painted kind of silly.  Like my eyes....WAIT!!! TURN THIS UP!!!!!  I LOVE THIS SONG!!!!"

{Random Elaine-like moving and shaking with lip syncing}

"Yeah, my eyes were, like, closed, but they looked open and we had sugar-free cotton candy, and I got low.  Like 50-something.  And the doctor wasn't there so they gave me 4 tablets and then he came back and gave me two more.  I LOVED THEIR TABS, Mom!!!  There were all coconut and strawberry.  The white ones are my FA  VOR  ITE!!!!"

"And I got low at midnight too.  Come to think of it..."

"ONE DIRECTION!!!!!  I love them, Mom!!!  I really want to go see them in Europe."

"Camp is so cool, because everyone is just like you.  Everyone had to take care of their diabetes, so diabetes wasn't a big deal.  But I've been high and low.  It's like this weekend put my numbers on the CRAZY TRAIN!!!  But I did get to have a dark chocolate milkshake, because I was 60 at midnight last night.  It was SOOOO good.  But everyone had to deal with their numbers too, so it wasn't that big of a deal."

"I didn't want to come home.  When we had the closing ceremony, I couldn't help it.  I started crying.  It was just so hard to say good-bye.  Not everyone cried, though.  The boys didn't cry.  But all the girls cried."

....................

And that's how it went.  The. entire. ride. home.  Her sisters and I sat quietly, oscillating between  the thrill of her stories, and turning up the radio to bust a move.

Her thoughts were random, wandering, and out of order...but they were excited, and happy, and full of energy at the same time.

A year ago, she was still so little.  Naive.  Nervous about being away from home.

Now she's a veteran, I guess.

Looks like she's gone from being Homegrown...to being Campgrown :)

And This One Time, at D Camp...

I walked back to the car feeling a bit lonely.

I glanced at the empty seat behind me, and chuckled at the image in my mind of a little girl bouncing side to side, a little offbeat.

I drove home in silence, but kept hearing the sound of her voice telling me the same silly joke over and over again.

I wasn't exactly sure what to think about.  I wasn't looking at the clock, and thinking back to the time of her last bolus.  I wasn't anticipating the next number.  I wasn't thinking about how many carbs would be found on her dinner plate.

I was just driving home.

Driving home after dropping her off for a weekend of diabetes camp.

I kept wondering how the staff would know that her BG at midnight the night before was randomly 77.  I wanted to remind someone that she has celiac.  I wanted to tell someone that cereal for breakfast is a bugger, and to be on the lookout, because she's bound to have a low 2 hours later -- just because.  Because I know, that's why.

Instead, I signed her in, watched her disappear behind the dark tinted bus windows, and off she went.  There wasn't an orientation...an opportunity to meet and greet the camp staff or ask questions.  It was an assembly line of paperwork, and then...farewell.

At first, I was really uncomfortable with this process.  I wanted to grab someone -- anyone -- to give them a quick rundown of every last detail regarding her management as I know it.  I wanted to download my brain, and hand them a "Manual of Sugar".

But then I realized that this camp weekend wouldn't ever happen if every parent handed the camp staff their child's manual.  A Q&A session had the potential to turn into a debate. Dragging it out could lead to an emotional breakdown -- for both the parents and the kids. This weekend needed to be more about CAMP -- having fun, making new friendships, and trying new things -- and less about diabetes -- carb counts, fingersticks, and insulin.

I needed to be the grown up.  I needed to put on my brave face, and trust that the past 6.5 years had prepared her for this moment.  I needed to exude complete confidence in her ability to do this, and the camp's ability to come alongside her to fill in any gaps that may exist.  I knew she was watching me.  I didn't want her to feel the slightest twinge of guilt or worry.  If the emotions swirling inside my heart broke through to the outside, it had the potential to set a negative tone for the rest of her weekend.

So I hugged her and blew kisses through the window, even though I couldn't see her.  I smiled, and waved, and stood in the parking lot until I couldn't see any sign of the bus any longer.

I spent the next 2 days with the camp itinerary close, constantly to checking see what she was doing at that very moment:  fishing, horseback riding, arts and crafts, archery, BG checks, meals and snacks, a magic show and carnival fun, bunking with friends...

I sat down to blog a million times, but couldn't concentrate.

I stalked Facebook and Twitter for any sign of camp pictures.

I knew she was probably having the time of her life.  

And she did.

She came home with stories about shooting a bow and arrow and popping a yellow balloon, playing cards with her friend after "lights out", having her face painted like a dalmatian, star gazing, riding a horse named "Little Man", decorating a birdhouse, sugar free cotton candy (I had no idea that was possible!)...and on, and on, and on...

I didn't ask her anything about diabetes.  Honestly, I didn't really care.  I wanted to hear her stories, see the sparkle in her eyes, and allow her childhood excitement to wrap itself around all of us.  She was energized, motivated, and deliriously happy.  She came home ALIVE in body, spirit, and mind.   Blood sugar specifics really didn't matter...all that mattered was that she had the time of her life, and couldn't wait to do it again.

This entire camp experience was available FREE OF CHARGE (!!!) to the first 20 applicants in her age group (8-11) who completed the zillion-page registration packet in its entirety, returned it (including several forms requiring physician signatures), and provided copies of a few necessary items (such as immunization records and insurance cards).  The packets had to be IN THE OFFICE...not postmarked by a certain date...literally IN THEIR HANDS to be counted. I hustled like a mad mama.  I think we were #19....two weeks after the initial email was sent back in August.

Meters, strips, insulin, sources of rapid glucose...it was all provided.  In addition, a complete gluten-free menu was offered for all meals and snacks.  No one was left out (or expected to eat lettuce instead) when it came to cookies and milk before bedtime.  We literally packed clothes for the weekend, sent along 3 sets of site change supplies, and that was it.  Everything else was taken care of.

This weekend would not have have been possible without the selfless volunteers who chose to spend their Veteran's Day weekend making sure the kids were safe, and camp was running smoothly.  Doctors, CDE's, JDRF Staff, and young adults living with T1 from the community pulled together to create a most memorable experience.  In the end, there was a ratio of 1 adult for every 2 children.  That's downright amazing, if you ask me.

I'd like to express heartfelt gratitude to Camp Soaring Eagle and our JDRF Desert Southwest Chapter.  Together, these organizations coordinated an incredible camp experience that incorporated diabetes management, gluten-free needs (I think there were 4-5 campers with celiac), and a unique opportunity for children to surround themselves with other kids who face the same challenges.  How special it must have been for my daughter to feel "normal", instead of "different" for the entire weekend!

Thank you, as well, to the companies who donated supplies for the weekend:  Eli Lilly, Sanofi Diabetes, LifeScan, and NovoNordisk.  Your generosity speaks volumes about the kind of people behind your company.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

She's already asking to attend the week long diabetes camp next summer!  This experience was the perfect foundation for many camp memories that are yet to come.  I can't think of a better way to have kicked off World Diabetes Day!