Ahhh, camping. I love waking up to sun rays warming my tent, the smell of damp earth, the sizzle of bacon cooking, and raging hormones. Wait, what? I neglected to add "with 20+ teenagers" to my camping statement. I spent the last three days as a chaperone for a youth group camping trip. That explains my exhaustion, aches, pains, and tilted smile. Yes, middle- and high-schoolers demand a lot of energy. In fact, they demand a lot. More than once did one pipe up, "how come [fill-in-the-blank] isn't done?" and it took all within me to refrain from responding, "because your mom isn't here and you haven't done it, yet. Get busy, kiddo." But I didn't. Usually.
I am glad to do it. In fact, the trip proved fruitful for a number of reasons. I connected more with some of the kids and with other leaders. The near-freezing temperatures reminded me of why I need to get down on my knees every night and thank God for every blessing in my life (especially my warm, soft bed). I separated myself from my crazy-busy life for a few days. I always enjoy a quality campfire (and eating s'mores!). I also stumbled upon a revelation that had not fully sunk in before: I am my mother's daughter.
Now that I have stumbled upon this revelation, I am not sure how to respond. Mom, I know you are reading this and I don't think it is a bad thing that I share many mannerisms and personality traits with you. It just isn't the easiest thing to swallow. This morning I heard words coming out of my mouth that sounded (in tone, pace, and word choice) just like my mom. Ahh! All weekend I had been the center a variety of mom-jokes. One friend said that, "You are such a mom." After I gave him a stern look, he added, "in a good way!"
Now, as I sit amongst my smoke-flavored laundry and push myself to finish cleaning my room, I continue to ponder my other mom-like qualities. Now I just have to figure out how to use these newfound powers for good.
On a side note, I miss my mom (and dad) a heckofalot. I would rather see any mom-traits coming from my mom in person. C'est la vie.