I started at the beginning of the school year. The girls, my little Brownie troop of seven, were going to work hard at their nut and cookie sales and earn enough for an overnight, their first one as a troop.
As it turned out, they earned enough to also allow their moms to come along. This was great, I’d have constant supervision, and it was a nice ease into things after Covid shut us all in. Some of these girls had been holed up in their homes, and some that had limited playdates were used to wearing masks, social distancing . . .but with new loosened guidelines, finally the troop would get to let off some steam and actually enjoy each other’s company.
Emails kept the troop up to speed with planning as it developed. Emails that continued for months. Detailed emails. With responses, Oh, we are so excited! Oh, we can’t wait!
Then I get this text:
“Hi, Abby. Could you please fill me in? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Of course not.
We were set to have two teepees, one for the parents and one for the girls. That way, girls could have their fun and we could get our sleep. The teepees were about ten steps away from each other, and each teepee had 12 beds, with an upper and lower row. We ended up with 5 girls and 4 adults, so that gave us plenty of stretch room.
The girls would be kept busy with camp-planned activities all day Saturday, pizza Saturday night (no cafeteria services were available due to Covid) and then we were going to go to breakfast in the morning and have our bridging ceremony since the girls were graduating to Juniors.
Oh, we are so excited! Oh, we can’t wait!
I called the Broken Yolk to reserve space for our troop for breakfast. Nope, no reservations taken. Since we had a large group, this was kind of a necessity. But I live right down the way from the Indian Hills campsite, so I figured that instead, I’d order coffee and hot chocolate carafes and provide fruit and breakfast goodies and do the whole thing at my house.
Ray: “So . . .they’re all coming here.”
Me: “Yup. I have a bridge. I don’t want to haul it and all the food stuff down to the camp.”
Ray: “After camping. No showers. Ewwww. No one’s going to want to stop.”
Me: “It’s on their way home, it’s no big deal.”
Ray: “On my Sunday? Even God rested on Sunday.”
Me: “I’ll get here early to set up, I’ll handle it.”
Saturday started out okay. Kids all put their stuff in their teepee, we put our mom stuff in ours, and settled in for lunch (which I had everyone bring themselves). A few omens tried to warn me about what was coming . . .
Omen #1
One mom (we’ll call her “Celeste”) busted out a whole cooler full of sushi, cold dumplings, salads. . .
Celeste: “Well, it’s Whole Foods. I had to.”
Me: (biting into my PBJ) “Well, of course.”
There was a large Girl Scout troop housed in the teepees above us. They had their own PBJs and were munching on them while eyeballing the sushi/dumpling/salad spread and cold-pressed coffee with something like superiority and disdain.
Omen #2
Celeste: “There are no showers?! . . .It’s so hot . . .Can’t we move down to the Village area? I think those cabins are air conditioned. . .wait, I saw showers down here, I’m going to shower if that’s okay . . .”
Omen #3
Another mom (we’ll call her “Barbara”) taught the girls how to tiedye their shirts. Her kid decided halfway through the process that she wanted her mom to finish it for her. Barbara said, no.
Then she did it, anyways.
Omen #4
While by the pool (yes, there was a pool), the mom that was tasked with bringing snacks (we’ll call her “Diane”) brought enough variety that it could have constituted an entire aisle at the supermarket. Because someone might not like what was offered.
The day’s activities went really well. No one got hit with an arrow, only one child got stranded on the zipline (and had to hang there until rescued by the staff), and everyone kept their paintballs aimed towards the correct side of the range.
Then I let everyone know I was ordering the pizza. I had told everyone in previous emails that we would order from the place down the road, and that one of us could drive down and pick it up.
Oh, we are so excited! Oh, we can’t wait! That’s perfect!
Me: “Okay, going to call in the pizza!”
Mom #4 (we’ll call her “Sarah”): “Um, do you think they have plain pasta?”
Barbara: “Yeah, and can we order Domino’s? My kid only eats Domino’s.”
Celeste: “I could really go for a salad . . .(looking on her phone) Oh! If we order from Domino’s, there’s a Thai place next door . . !”
Moms collectively: “Ooohhhh . . . .”
So, a couple hours later, as the Girl Scout troop above us prepared to roast their weinies on wooden sticks over the campfire that they lit themselves, my girls dined on Domino’s, salads, plain pasta and #4 Drunken Noodle plates.
Then there was a shriek.
One of the girls had found a stinkbug in the bathroom, and now wouldn’t go anywhere near the building. She was weeping. Her mother had to carry her into and then back out of the bathroom stall.
Sarah: “Okay, well my kid won’t calm down, and she wants me to sleep in the troop teepee tonight. Did I mention that this is her first sleepover? We’ve tried before, but I always end up going to get her in the middle of the night.”
Celeste: “Yeah, Abby. You know what? I’m not sleeping in our teepee tonight, either. (Whispering) I saw mold on the outside of the teepee.”
Me: “Mold?! That’s dirt.“
Celeste: “I wonder if we should just crash in the Village . . .”
Barbara: “I’m sorry, Abby. My daughter’s asking me to stay with her tonight, too. She usually crawls into our bed at night, but I don’t think you want her waking the whole tent up. . .”
What “whole tent?” I am the only one left.
As I am settling in to bed, alone, there is a soft knock on the teepee door.
It’s my daughter, Alexa.
Alexa: “Mommy, do you want to come in our tent?”
Me: (sighing) “Why, honey? Are you scared, too?”
Alexa: “No, not at all, I just feel bad with you over here all by yourself.”
Me: “Baby, I’m ten steps away from you, I promise I’ll be fine. Want to sleep in here with me?”
Alexa: “No! I want to sleep in there with my friends, if that’s okay with you, and you won’t be lonely . . .”
Me: “I’m good.”
And I actually was. I woke up a few times at night because that’s what you do in an uncomfortable bed, but got some actual sleep, which I am sure was lacking next door.
It was. I got to hear all about it the next morning.
” . . .kicking me all night . . .”
” . . .did you hear those dogs? And the chickens? Ugh, those roosters . . .”
“. . .kids just wouldn’t sleep . . .”
While everyone packed up their belongings, I got ready to leave the campsite and head to my house to get things set up for the gathering. Alexa said she wanted to stay and hang out with her friends, so I asked Sarah if Alexa could ride with her.
“No problem! You don’t mind if I take her for a Starbucks run?”
“Starbucks run?!” I couldn’t help myself. “What? Why? You’ll be at my house in less than an hour . . .!”
“I need my tea.”
And I needed to leave before something rude came out of my mouth.
Ray was awesome. He was already up and moving, and had positioned the balloons on the bridge for our ceremony. My oldest Lucy and her friend who spent the night helped cut up all the fruit and bagels and set out all the trays. I cleaned up the house and myself, and greeted the troop as they came in. Everything ran smoothly except that my own daughter showed up late. . .apparently, she didn’t know her way back to our house from Starbucks.
The ceremony was sweet, the parents were tired but grateful, and Ray even took the girls out to a movie to give me extra time to decompress.
And think.
And pat myself on the back for surviving.
And to get ready to plan for next year . . .
My Crazy Chicken Coop 
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