As a child, I was captivated by Hayley Mills’ portrayal in The Parent Trap—a classic that I still believe eclipses the Lindsay Lohan remake (maybe I’m just a little biased). The notion of having a twin sister, particularly one who owned a ranch in California, was utterly enchanting. And the idea of spending an entire summer at camp was both thrilling and a bit terrifying. However, aside from a disastrous week at a Girl Scout horseback riding camp in Florida that featured a cabin overrun by ants, I never experienced sleepaway camp, nor did I find a surprise twin sister.
So when my children reached elementary school, I was determined to send them to camp, even if just for a week or two, ideally in a picturesque setting filled with mountains, waterfalls, campfire songs, and no hidden siblings. Though the thought of sending my kids off without me was intimidating, my fiercely independent firstborn made the decision for me by arguing his way into camp before I could overthink it. Suddenly, I was packing for him—shower shoes, extra towels, and labeling a mountain of socks with our last name. Off he went.
This summer will mark the fifth year I’ve sent my boys to a camp nestled in the mountains of western North Carolina, and I know they’ll have a fantastic time. But I also brace myself for what’s about to unfold: Parents’ Refresh Button Syndrome, subtype Sleepaway Summer Camp.
Understanding Refresh Button Syndrome
If you’ve sent a child to sleepaway camp, you know exactly what Refresh Button Syndrome feels like. We put on brave faces, even feeling a thrill as we settle our kids into their cabins with wide-eyed camp counselors. We try not to think about how fast we can leave the parking lot, our minds filled with dreams of solo Target runs, long pedicures, and date nights sans babysitters. The world is our child-free oyster for a week or two. What will we do with all this free time?
Here’s the reality: we’ll be glued to our laptops and phones, silently urging the camp to update their photo galleries so we can catch a glimpse of our little ones. We’ll refresh incessantly, convinced that the moment we glance up to enjoy Jimmy Fallon’s monologue is precisely when the camp photographer will upload the long-awaited images.
Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. REFRESH.
And when those new photos finally appear, heaven help us if our children are missing. Is that a hint of his sleeve in the corner of yet another photo? I’m pretty sure that’s the tie-dye shirt I ordered during a recent sale because it just screamed summer camp attire. Surely, that must be him! Oh, wait—nope! Looks like other moms had the same idea, because that’s a different kid. Where on earth is my child?
I’m not proud to admit it, but I may have sent an email or two to the camp, asking if my child was still present since he hadn’t made an appearance in any photos for days. My finger was sore from constant refreshing. I envisioned him careening off a cliff, vanishing in a waterfall plunge, or wandering off during campfire activities. Where is he?
Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
He was indeed there. He was joyfully engaged in games like Predator/Prey and Capture the Flag, learning to juggle, starting fires, and picking veggies from the camp garden for dinner. He was leaping under the waterfall, exclaiming, “Polar Bear, Polar Bear!” to join the Polar Bear Club. In short, he was living his best life, getting everything I had hoped for him during those two weeks of being unplugged outdoors. He just had a knack for evading the camp photographer. Did he not realize his mother was waiting eagerly for a glimpse of his beaming face? This was all about me, after all. Did I forget to mention that?!
In the next few weeks, I will prepare camp duffels for my three boys. I’ll label all their belongings and choose which clothes I’m willing to sacrifice to the mud and smells of camp life. I’ll take them for physicals and drive them along the rugged dirt road to their camp’s lush green fields and wooden cabins. I’ll kiss their heads, remind them to wear sunscreen, change clothes frequently, and plead with them to consider deodorant, for the love of all that’s good. I’ll confirm they’re in good hands.
And then, I will unabashedly bribe them with treasures untold if they would just do me a solid and jump in front of the camera at least once every day. Just once, please.
My finger is already twitching, ready to go.
For the record, I still want to experience summer camp, just like Hayley Mills.
Summary
As the summer approaches, the author reflects on the emotional rollercoaster of sending her children to sleepaway camp, battling the urge to check for updates and photos of their adventures. The excitement and anxiety of being separated from their kids leads to a compulsive need to refresh photo galleries in hopes of catching a glimpse of their smiling faces.
Keyphrase: Refresh Button Syndrome at Summer Camp
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