We actually went to bed at about 9:30 last night. Zeke was wiped and I was wiped and sleep sounded really, really good. I was up at 5:30 because Zeke flipped over in his sleep and whacked my shoulder, but I settled back in and slept until 7:30. With dreams of registration check-in dancing in my head.
The morning has started off really well- staff prayer, cup of coffee, the usual. To the office I go, and answer seven e-mails (my life is thrilling, I know.) Then get a call from a youth pastor saying that she's registering five campers online right now... for the retreat... that begins at 8 pm today. <Sigh>.
Coffee is gone. The guy on the radio says that the lake is now hard enough to walk on, which means that it's really really cold out there.
I spend some time looking at screens like this...
And it's lunch time. I get to sit next to Zeke at the long table, and we talk with the others about the day and the radio and which lake is frozen over and if we're going to send Christmas ornaments this year. More coffee and it's back to the office.
I answer some phone calls, check the e-mail, and remove a cancellation from the system. I make name tags for the adults coming for the retreat, print them out.
My desk starts looking more like this...
|To be fair, three of these were here from yesterday.|
We have some high school volunteers for the weekend, and they arrive in all their Axe-smelling, unwashed glory. I have them cut the name tags and put them into sleeves, then alphabetize by last name. I prep the counselor t-shirt bin, answer more e-mail, run a few more reports and print them.
I assign adult housing and make door signs.
I get a phone call that we had two cancellations, and an e-mail that we are adding three more campers. I run the reports again and print off new ones.
My little nephew (age 3) and his mama call me to tell me that he pooped on the potty today and where's "Un-el" Zeke? He at work? Why he work? Can he take me for da ride when I come to your house? I congratulate him on the bowel movement, tell him I love him and bye, and reluctantly hang up the phone.
I run upstairs to the main printer and pick up all the stuff I printed. I shred the first set of reports, cut door signs, grab a thing of tape, and head over to the adult housing building.
And see these guys in the parking lot. They barely glance at me.
I hang up door signs, then build a fire so I can light it quickly around 7:30, just before everyone arrives.
I find the name tags the kids finished, and re-cut about half of them that look like they were cut with a chainsaw. Apparently we need to work on fine motor skills in our high schools...
It's five o'clock, so I take a break to write all of this down, surf the web, and confer with the staff member doing housing assignments for the kids (because changes. I do not envy her that job).
I say "hi" to my mom over Facebook chat- she responds with a string of emojis. I say goodbye and sign out.
It's suddenly almost 6, and I have mucho to do yet. I run upstairs and grab the medic bin, replace the forms, and clean it out because how many Skittles can get into one Rubbermaid container carted around by the camp nurse? (Answer, 14.)
Supper time. Counselors are arriving (and reuniting- some haven't seen each other since summer), and the screeching and running and hugging is a little overwhelming but I have to get over that because dude. 130 middle schoolers in t-minus 2 hours. I sit next to Zeke, and we hold hands under the table. It's like a date!
Then it's back to the office. I do a little tidy up, file some paperwork, and suddenly it's 7. Almost show time.
A pastor shows up. He's very early. He brought five campers, and can they move in yet? I tell them nope, direct them to the board games. I get the medic check in ready- set up the table, lay out highlighters and sharpies and post-its, lists and medical forms- and set up the chairs. I stick the check-in report on my Welcome Center desk, and light the fire in the adult building.
7:20. Last cup of coffee, and I figure I'd better go pee before they all arrive and I can't get away. That finished, I get the medic for the weekend all settled in and ready to go- answer her questions, show her the binder and explain how we record everything.
30 kids show up at 7:50.
We had a youth leader expressly ask that she be the counselor for her bunch of kids, and they show up without her. She's not coming. I run back and tell the housing person that we'll need to divvy up 12 little girls into other cabins. I check my e-mail quick- the youth leader didn't e-mail me or call me to tell me she wasn't coming.
We get a rush of three "big churches" all at once, bringing 70 of the campers all at one time. And they are loud, and all want to know what cabin they're in and can they be in the same cabin as Suzy/Hallie, Jill???
Three extra adults show up- one who I should have known was coming but didn't register, one who I had no idea about, and a bus driver (surprise!)... none of them registered, but all expect a bed. I whip up a couple name tags and open up an extra room. Glad I saved that room.
A child gets his t-shirt and exclaims, "Oh my gosh! These shirts are so swag!!!"
There's a lull, followed by a group of 30, followed by a lull. A camper says to his counselor, "You're the best counselor ever!!" as he walks by with his group. So, bonding is going well, from the looks of it.
Check in is over, but we're waiting for 10 campers- I call them. Their group got lost, and I direct the bus to the entrance. They're all checked in.
I take a minute to take stock- added 5 "surprise" campers, had 4 more cancellations (1 sick and 3 just didn't come). I check on my medic, she's doing fine and getting organized, but has a deer-in-the-headlights look. I don't blame her.
The kids head to chapel, and after clearing it with my medic, I follow for about 10 minutes or so. Then it's off to bed for me, at 11:00 pm.
Just another day in paradise. Or ministry. Or at Camp. Whatever.