Penultimate camp week

It’s the boys’ second to last week of camp, and already I’m feeling a strange nostalgia for it. All of the kids at the camp are so little - they follow giant Bobby around like little ducklings - and my kids are so big. I don’t know if they’ll both want to try to be CITs there next year; it’s impossible to know what they’ll be like by next spring. I do think they enjoy having somewhere to go and getting to play with other kids, even little ones. But the day is coming when these sweet little no-frills summer camps are in the rear window, and I’m sad about that.

This also means school is coming up fast. I ordered Bobby a new backpack, Theo gets a haircut tomorrow, and I need to go through his pants to get rid of the ones that are too small that he insists on still wearing. Gone are the days of big expensive school supply lists, thank god, but I do still need to make sure I at least send them to school with some basics like pens and pencils and notebooks. Theo has an orientation two weeks from today and then they start Wednesday the 12th. I still have zero plan for how to pick them up, now that they get out together; I want them to walk somewhere away from the school so I’m not stuck in crazy school pickup traffic with nowhere to pull over, but I don’t know where that is yet. We’ll figure it out in those first weeks I’m sure. I also still want to explore them taking the bus home, but that can wait. 

This is an important and stressful week for my event. My price increase is Friday night, which means I should be getting a decent bump of people; also the refund cut off is the same day which means I’ll be getting lots of refund requests, too. I’ve already had three today and it’s not even noon. I’m simultaneously trying to re-sell canceled hotel rooms so I’m not on the hook to pay for them, and I have no idea how that’s going to go. 

Although it’s impossible to predict what’s going to happen in the next month, I do know that it’s too late to try to change what is going to happen. My numbers are dismal - I’m thinking I’m going to lose more than another 100 people, maybe even up to 200 this year, which puts me into “barely break even/lose a little money” territory, which is horrifying. It’s always possible it won’t be that dire, but if I do get a big bump of people at the end, that would be really surprising since that hasn’t happened in many years, not since before the pandemic. I’ll be ok this year only because I had a small surplus going into this year and a big tax return (although all of that will be taken up by this garage wall repair, which is currently inexplicably stalled), but by this time next year I’ll really be feeling it, especially if this trend continues. This is why I have to get a HELOC and use it for living expenses just to survive whatever this is, until or unless I can scale the event down to save money (which contractually I can’t do next year). 

The thought that always haunts me, though, is what if this whole idea is just played out? What if people are just not interested in what I have to offer, this particular brand? I can think of a million reasons why my attendance is plummeting, and I still think it’s almost entirely financial, but I also worry that it’s something else, something I can’t fix, which is that people just don’t care about this anymore and they’ve moved on, either to other newer events or away from dancing entirely. I went through a similar valley back in the early 2000s, when my numbers hovered around 550-600 for a couple of years and I was close to quitting and went into a massive depression over it. But then for no apparent reason my numbers started ticking up by 2005, 2006, and things started to look up. Will that happen again? Is this really all just Trump, and once he’s gone (or lame ducked) people will feel like spending money again? Who knows. I just know I’m in a pit right now and there’s nothing I can do to save myself and it’s really, really scary. 

Despite all this, though, I’ve mostly been able to maintain a positive attitude - I still have to put on the best damned show I can for those lovely people who are showing up, and I intend to do that, and just hope for a better future. My friends assure me that my brand is solid and this is just a blip we’re all experiencing - and they could be right, although they’re biased and just trying to cheer me up. Over the weekend I told myself to just try to be in denial - there’s nothing I can do to fix it, so why not just pretend I’m independently wealthy and running this for fun, so any dips in attendance don’t affect me personally but are just something to be observed? Sometimes this works. Denial can be powerful at times. 

Happy birthday to meee

Despite my self-proclaimed ambiguity regarding my birthday, I ended up really leaning into it this year and thoroughly enjoying it. Sometimes joy is just a choice, you know? 

I promised myself I wouldn’t do any real work just for the day - I would answer customer service emails, but no big spreadsheet marathons or lengthy tasks. Then I took a new Pilates class to make up for the one I have to miss on my summer schedule, ran home unexpectedly to move all the boxes of trophies left on the stairs into the house so they wouldn’t melt or get stolen, then headed to the local bar that does food deliveries for another run at supplying groceries for neighborhood folks afraid of deportation. I will probably just do this every Friday that I can from now on, because why not? 

The H really pulled it out this year, I have to give him credit. He sent me a beautiful bouquet, we all went to dinner at my favorite place, and he even had the kids get me cards and presents (this isn’t something we typically do - I realize I need to up my game in this area). I asked for a good knife set, and he got me that. It was a great day. Spontaneously after dinner I made everyone watch one of my favorite movies, Blood Simple. Theo wandered off after a few minutes and the H kept yawning and falling asleep - not stimulating enough for him, I think - but I think Bobby liked it.

I feel like I had more texts/messages/FB posts than usual. Considering how rarely I text people on their birthday, it was really sweet. It made me feel loved and appreciated. I guess I needed that, and I guess I put myself in the mindset to receive it, too. Earlier in the week, my bandleader asked if I wanted it noted on tonight’s gig advertisement that we’d be celebrating both our birthdays (his is the 14th) and I said I didn’t want to be a bother (making the venue re-do their artwork to include me) and he said “don’t minimize yourself. You deserve to be celebrated.” Makes me tear up a little, thinking of that. It’s weird to think that even people like me who (I think) don’t really have an issue with self-esteem still have these little moments of not being ok asking to be put forward. It might also be a woman thing, and/or a middle aged woman thing. Everything about society teaches us, even now, that young women are to be elevated and celebrated and older women just need to step aside and let other people have their moment. In some ways I agree with this - older people not stepping aside in government is a huge part of our problem in this country - but maybe on a personal level, I might need to rethink this strategy.

Midsummer

It’s my “birthday week”, but I’m ambivalent about it. I’m looking forward to celebrating on Friday (like last year, dinner at El Coyote followed by cake at home), but otherwise, I don’t feel the need to make a big deal about it. I guess these mid-life birthdays just sort of lose their magic. Honestly if the day went by with no acknowledgement - and that was normal somehow and not something I should take personally - I really wouldn’t care. 

So, at (almost) 54, here are the stats:

Still bleeding regularly. WHY.

The heaviest I’ve ever been, outside of pregnancy 

Other than my sometimes debilitating arthritic toe pain on my left foot, still able to do anything physically - lift weights, long hikes, etc. 

Not on any medications 

No real menopause stuff other than bad sleep and brittle nails (slightly)

I’m the mother of a twelve-year-old and a fourteen-year-old. I remember years ago doing the math and wondering what it would be like to be going through menopause with two boys going through puberty…but a) I’m not in menopause, and b) Theo is not going though puberty, yet. Honestly, it’s been fine. I often wonder if my life with girls would be different; you hear so much about the drama of girls at these ages. I suppose there were some ugly moments when I was at that age, but, of course, all of that was cut short when I moved in with my sister at fourteen. So I don’t really have a road map for life in an intact family as a teenager.

We had an idyllic family day yesterday, the type that I used to dream about but only got to have during the pandemic because of the H’s (until now) 24/7 work schedule. We all had a free day so I posited that we make a pool day of it, and I got out all the cushions and scrubbed the bird poop off the table and chairs while the H scrubbed the rat pee and poop off of the grill and burnt it off, as well, before cooking anything. We splashed around and hung out in the hot tub and watched the World Cup on a phone, while making steaks (for them), cherry tomato/basil/mozzarella bites, grilled corn, chips and dip and watermelon. It was such a nice time that I’m encouraged to try to do this every free Saturday - and there are a few - until summer is done. 

As Bobby’s about to start high school, college is being pushed to the forefront of my mind. There’s a lot I still have to investigate and learn about, of course, but I feel like we’re in a decent position - I’m able to save about $10,000 a year for him (I currently have $25,000 saved, and we have four, technically eight, years of savings to go); and so far he’s been a straight A student. We’re not going to be able to afford some fancy private school with room and board of course, but surely we can come up with something suitable in California’s system, even if it’s two years of cheap community college and then transfer out somewhere impressive, and living at home. I also have the fantasy of him going to a Santa Barbara-area school and living in one of the spare apartments belonging to a dance friend of mine for cheap. So many possibilities, it’s exciting. I love to think about how (hopefully) much easier these kids’ young adult lives will be than mine - working a minimum wage job and living in slums and just trying to stay afloat, wanting a future but not having the slightest idea how to get there, all my friends off at college leaving me completely isolated. You know what happens when you’re a young girl looking for guidance and comfort at that age, lost and struggling and with no support? Some predatory man steps in and takes over, which is exactly what happened to me in the form of my New School film teacher, eleven years older and incredibly toxic and controlling. 

This is the thing I couldn’t see when I was a young adult but I see now, which is that young people still need a ton of support and guidance; I think us Gen Xers were sold the line that the minute you turn eighteen you’re automatically autonomous, whereas we now know this is far from the truth. So it’s easy for us to harrumph about kids today still living at home in their twenties and not living an independent adult life while we had to suffer and struggle…but I don’t want my kids to struggle, not unnecessarily anyway. And I’m pretty sure if I’d gone to college and had friends and was studying something I was passionate about, my life would have been dramatically better. Those post-high school years were some of the worst of my life. I don’t want that for them. 

Thankfully, these kids have loving and engaged parents, and although I’m struggling financially at the moment, it’s not so bad that I can’t put money away for them. Their lives are going to be very different. And just imagine what the world could be like by 2030 - our Trump nightmare over, things looking up…? Maybe? Lindsey Graham died suddenly last night, so anything is possible.

First day of camp

It was a weekend. I’m soooo glad it’s behind us and I don’t have to think about it anymore. This 4th of July was like childbirth - the only way out is through. And once it’s over it’s best just to put it out of your mind. 

Friday I drove down to ICSA, the International Cultic Studies Association. I don’t know why driving to San Diego always says it will take 2 1/2 hours and yet always takes 4 hours and why I never remember this, but the delay caused me to miss about half of what I was going to participate in, and that was a huge bummer. I arrived frazzled and frustrated, but thankfully the first person I saw was my friend I was going to see, and she was equally frazzled for her own reasons, so I didn’t feel out of place. As I had suspected, the conference itself was really for clinicians - the talks I went to were very technical and over my head, and all the questions asked were “what do I do when a client says they…” or “how can I help a client who…”. Still, everyone was friendly and welcoming, and I sat in on a group talk with the organizers and felt very at home there, as it was obvious that even though most people there were therapists they were also survivors. I had a moment where I felt like these are the only people who really understand me. And that felt good.

I had a nice dinner with my friend and three other people, and the conversation was fun and interesting, and then I headed home. I can’t say I would go to this again, but the opportunity will probably never arise again, anyway, since my friend said as much as it moves every year it had never been on the west coast before. I’m glad I went, but the driving just about killed me (about seven hours in one day). Then the next day we all piled in the car for another three hour drive to Lompoc to our friends’ for the 4th. It was a long, exhausting day. I’m glad somebody took it upon themselves to have a party with like-minded people so we wouldn’t have to be surrounded by MAGAs in a high school parking lot, but the day itself was full of sadness and anxiety for me. Anxiety because of the fireworks (as always) being torture for someone like me with auditory sensitivity, and sadness for the state of things. I just wanted it to be over. And over it was.

Today was the first day in a month of getting us all out of bed and out of the house early in the morning; I am completely discombobulated and out of it, but I have to say it’s glorious to have the house to myself for the first time since mid-June. Being on a schedule is just better - I hate being off my routines, I haven’t been able to do my exercise classes, everything’s a wreck. I hope the kids like - or at least tolerate - this camp for one more summer. I worry that Bobby is going to be glued to his phone and the camp counselors will complain about it; I worry that one or both of them will come home and say they don’t want to go anymore when they have five weeks paid for. But at the same time I think they crave the structure, too - they want to be with other kids and actively play, not just sit on devices. So my guess is they’ll be ok with camp. Not sure about next summer, but thankfully I don’t have to worry about that yet. It’s weird to think of the day when summer camps will no longer be in our lives, after all these years - but that day is right around the corner.