Empty Nester, Temporarily

and the trappings of summer camp

Getting my six-year-old daughter ready for sleepaway camp has felt like preparing a tiny astronaut for a solo mission to the moon. As an anxious homebody, I have been emotionally preparing for this moment since birth (hers, not mine) and strategically laying the groundwork and priming her to be psyched for summer camp. I have exhibited blatant favoritism toward American Girl Molly and provided repeated and possibly medically inadvisable viewings of The Parent Trap (both versions, in the name of education). In short, my daughter thinks camp is a magical place where you prank strangers into becoming family.

(Kids’ brains are like little conspiracy theorist factories: they connect one dot and suddenly they have a whole yarn board of wild logic. I once told my daughter about visiting Alcatraz, and, on a completely separate night, about how my brother got arrested when he was a teenager. Without clarification that prison and island can be mutually exclusive, she assumed her uncle had once been exiled to a shark-surrounded jail.)

I myself went to this very same camp, exactly once, and spent most of it writing dramatic letters home. My daughter, in contrast, has already memorized the handbook and is fully prepared to thrive. Camp prep has been a logistical operation six months in the making, monopolizing both my time and credit card statement. I’ve packed enough clothing and supplies to survive a four-season trek through the Applachains and still managed to fit it all into one trunk and one duffle, which frankly deserves an award.

I let my daughter pick a color theme for all her gear so she could easily spot it among the sea of camp trappings. Naturally, she chose my least favorite color: turquoise. It’s fine (I guess) because in three weeks it’ll all be shut back into the trunk and banished to the attic as a teal time capsule until next summer. Here lies a meticulously researched smattering of camp necessities. Nothing says “fun and independence” like a 14-page packing spreadsheet from an overbearing parent.

And this is just the aesthetically non-offensive stuff

Luggage and Accessories

Picking out a trunk for camp is a rite of passage, and nowadays one can customize it to one’s heart’s content with monogrammed decals and interior organizers. With boundless options and zero oversight, my daughter’s turquoise trunk with its yellow decal doesn’t not look like the Bahamian flag. She doubled down and picked out a matching turquoise duffle with yellow embroidery. The duffle fits all of the bed and bath linens, and the trunk manages to hold absolutely everything else with the help of these packing cubes.

Cabin and Bunk

Whereas my college roommate survey sought to match students with similar schedules and tidiness preferences, I frequently wonder if Generation Alpha will have to disclose their white noise habits. White noise is like oxygen to my daughter, ergo I tracked down a pocket-sized sound machine just so she doesn’t go full feral. Other creature comforts include earplugs, small clock, campy ticking stripe eye mask, clip-on fan, and an [objectively ugly] upright pillow for reading. For idle time: a word search book, a new-to-her set of Junie B. Jones books, rainbow loom kit, and stationery both personalized and not. Clearly, I'm not the first psycho to demand bunk specs, because not only did the camp already have the dimensions online, but I found baskets that fit those shelves and can house the aforementioned.

Linens

I want such a hard line between my daughter’s camp linens and our home linens that if a single camp towel shows up in our laundry, I’ll respond in a hazmat suit. As such, I resisted the temptation of fun monogrammed linens and went with low investment and highly-rated sheets and towels. This mattress topper and blanket should hopefully convert the rock-hard bunk mattress into a cloud, and a laundry bag and quick-dry towels (for swimming) are necessities.

Clothing

My daughter wears a uniform to school, so I don't buy her much clothing outside of occasion dresses during the school year. Come summer, she has no play clothes and is in need of an entire summer wardrobe. Shopping for girls’ clothes is a thankless job that requires sifting through endless gratuitous ruffles and cut-outs to find not-heinous age-appropriate pieces. These unisex Oso & Me shorts and tees are my go-tos in real life, but working under the assumption that camp clothes may not return home, I ordered Primary shorts (more colors here and here) and tees. I bought an entire summer wardrobe for the price of one Pepa dress, so now she has the closet of a child attending camp instead of a guest to a royal wedding. What I wouldn’t give for a camp uniform complete with matching bandana, though.

Other

I’ll spare you the saga of flashlight and bath caddy comparisons, but other standouts from my deep dive include clothing labels and water bottle labels, this label maker, and a child-friendly screen-free digital camera.

I have meticulously prepared a letter for everyday of camp, each one stuffed with tiny treasures like photos, comics, stickers, and coloring sheets (moreso for my separation anxiety than hers), and I plan to sneak this little bracelet in her trunk to remind her how much we love her.

As for me? I am equal parts devastated and giddy at the idea of uninterrupted time. I’ve booked a short getaway to Newport, Rhode Island to overlap with camp, because if I’m going to nervously refresh the camp app 12 times a day, I may as well do it seaside with oysters in hand.

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If it’s adult summer camp vibes you’re after, my friend Lulu has a fun post on dressing the part. I’m taking notes.

Talk soon!