Tommy Is Over the Moon About Nature Camp. I’m Over the Moon with Worry.
Tommy is so excited about his school’s nature camp.
It’s a two-day, one-night trip to the mountains. The kids cook curry together and gather around a campfire. They eat together, take baths together, and sleep in the same room.
For Tommy, it’s all fun. Nothing but fun.
So I went to the parent info session.
Tommy has wheat and egg allergies, so food is my first worry. He also has neurodevelopmental traits and an intellectual disability, so I’m worried about the daily-life stuff, too.
Before I even walked in, my head was already filling up with “what ifs.”
“What on earth are we going to do about meals?”
Right after the school year started, his teacher told me at our parent-teacher meeting: “For the second day, we may need you to bring his meals to the camp.”
It’s a three-hour drive each way. Six hours round trip, up into the mountains.
…You’ve got to be kidding me.
Honestly, that was my first reaction. But maybe this is just what it means to send a kid with allergies on a school overnight trip. It felt like hitting a wall.
Of course, I know it’s not realistic to expect the people running the trip to accommodate everything. But “Mom drives the lunch up the mountain” can’t be the only option, can it?! What about sending a frozen meal and having them store it? Or shelf-stable pouch meals? Or buying something locally, if that’s possible?
These days, we live in a global world. Plenty of kids can’t eat certain foods for religious or cultural reasons. A little more flexibility would go a long way.
In situations like this, I always feel like parents are expected to make some kind of desperate sacrifice. There’s an unspoken rule: “This is your family’s situation, so it’s on you to make it work for everyone else.”
But then, at the info session, I heard some wonderful news.
“If you’re worried about allergies, you can send a frozen meal. We’ll keep it frozen on site and warm it up at mealtime.”
“Packaged rice or pouch meals are fine, too.”
That is amazing. Truly. The school and the staff at the camp were doing so much more than I’d imagined.
I’m sorry for cursing at all of you in my head.
“Something He Can Eat” Isn’t the Point
There was one more thing that made me happy.
At camp, the kids split into groups to cook and eat curry together. Since Tommy is allergic to wheat, I’d been wondering what they would do. It turns out they’re making a dedicated rice-flour curry group for kids with allergies.
Again, I’m so grateful. In the worst case, I was ready to send a pouch of rice-flour curry with him.
But Tommy is looking forward to making curry with everyone. It was never about getting curry into his stomach. It’s about chopping, sautéing, stirring, and dishing it up together. That’s the fun part. He’s a budding chef, after all.
By the way, the lunch boxes handed out to everyone on day one have nothing Tommy can eat. That’s true of most store-bought bento boxes. It’s harder to find one without egg or fried food. There’s nothing to be done about that, so I’ll pack his lunch for day one myself.
Food Is Sorted, but the Worries Don’t Stop There
I was relieved to learn how much thought had gone into the allergy accommodations.
But my worries aren’t only about food. If anything, this is where they really begin.
Can He Bathe on His Own?
We’ve been training Tommy to bathe independently for three years. He’s still not there.
He hates getting water on his face, so he can’t wash his own hair. He’s so busy protecting his face that shampooing is out of the question. And when he’s on his own, he doesn’t scrub his body with the towel properly. He cuts corners right away and announces, “I’m done!”
But it’s just one night. It’s fine.
…So I’m choosing to let that one go.
Brushing His Teeth Takes More Than a Toothbrush
Because of his underlying condition, Tommy’s teeth are very fragile.
He has big holes in several teeth, and food gets stuck in them after every meal. So at home, a quick brush and a parent’s finishing touch aren’t enough. We need a three-piece kit: toothbrush, floss, and tweezers, to pick out the food. If it stays in there, it usually hurts. And it leads to even more cavities.
But again. It’s just one night. It’s fine.
What If He Has an Accident and Gets Teased?
Wetting accidents happen fairly often. Not soaking-the-bedding levels, just enough to dirty his underwear.
On family trips, we bring a waterproof sheet and waterproof shorts. But this is a school event, and there will be other kids watching. What worries me most is that Tommy himself doesn’t care at all. He’ll change out of wet underwear right in front of everyone, without a second thought.
Honestly, that’s very Tommy, and I love that about him. But I can’t help worrying that someone will tease him about it later, or that it might turn into bullying.
At home, I always take him to the bathroom before bed. That’s not going to happen on a school trip.
Hmm… I’m worried.
“Meet at 3:00” Is Hard for Tommy
He’s getting better at reading a clock and answering “What time is it?” But “meet at 3:00”? That’s a whole different level.
How far away is that from now? How many minutes?
If someone says, “Get out of the bath in 15 minutes,” he has no sense of what 15 minutes feels like. He can’t work out what time it will be 15 minutes from now. And he’s not good at looking around and following what everyone else is doing.
I’m pretty sure he’ll get scolded for being late.
Is it really a parent’s job to walk the teacher through everything, one item at a time: “He can’t do this, please accommodate him”? Once I start asking, there’s no end. I’m honestly not sure how much to say anymore.
“He Just Doesn’t Like Tea”
It’s not that he can’t drink tea. He just doesn’t like it.
Tommy drinks water, and only water. (Juice is fine, though.)
With his Neurodevelopmental Traits, and especially his Rigid Preferences & Routines, once he decides he won’t drink something, he really won’t. Even if tea is the only option. Even if he’s about to collapse from dehydration.
On day two, the lodge will fill everyone’s water bottles with tea. I’d love to ask, “Could you fill his with water instead?”
They have a refill station with kettles of tea. I just wish there were water there, too.
…Is that unreasonable of me?
Taking Medication on His Own Is Also a Big Deal
Tommy takes daily medication, too.
He can’t swallow pills whole, so I put three pills in a small cup with a little water, dissolve them, and have him drink it. He also has an inhaler.
If someone says, “Do it yourself,” that’s a tall order. Fine motor tasks are hard for Tommy. He can’t use scissors well. When he uses a pencil sharpener, he can’t turn it in one direction. He twists it right, left, right, left, and the pencil never gets sharpened. He can’t handle small LEGO bricks either, so he sticks with the big Duplo ones.
Now picture him putting three pills into a tiny cup, adding a little water, stirring, and drinking it.
There’s no way that goes well. I can only picture spills at every single step: dropping the pills in, pouring the water, stirring, drinking.
I Could Go On and On
If I thought through every single item, there’s no way I could send him on an overnight trip.
Oh well, it’ll work out. It’s just one night. Nothing life-threatening is going to happen.
That’s where I’ve landed.
Wow. I went from sweating every tiny detail to “eh, whatever” pretty fast.
The Hardest Part: He Looks Like He Can Do It
For Tommy, maybe the hardest things are the ones that look like he can handle them on his own.
Every time he moves up a grade, I explain everything all over again to his new homeroom teacher. What he finds hard. What he doesn’t understand. But it rarely sinks in.
Tommy is also very good at pretending to understand. I think he hates the idea of people thinking he doesn’t. So when a teacher says something, he says, “Yes.” But he doesn’t actually understand. And he can’t ask for help.
The result? He gets scolded. Or he ends up in a truly tough spot and silently endures it all alone.
As a parent, that’s incredibly frustrating. I wish he could say, “I can’t,” “Help me,” or “I don’t get it.”
With all that swirling in my head, I walked home from the info session.
So. One night away.
It’ll be fine. Have fun, Tommy!