One of my men-children is off to school Cadet camp this week for two nights roughing it in the cold winter of Melbourne. If he comes home with frostbite it’s not my fault! All my best nagging and attempts to organize him failed dismally – clearly he doesn’t take after me – the most organized person my friends know!
The camp is a Bivouac – so called because it refers to a military encampment made with tents or improvised shelters. That means Man-Child II is sleeping in a Hutchie (see pic) – which is very, very basic accommodation and clearly doesn’t lend itself to warmth, and also cooking his own meals from specially prepared cadet ration packs (yum?).
Naturally the Cadets (who are officially a part of the Australian Army) are a well oiled machine – we’ve had instructions sitting at home for at least a month outlining all the details of the camp and what was required of the attending boys. Naturally Man-Child II, aka Mr Last Minute, did absolutely nothing about the camp until the day before. I must admit I didn’t come across the notes until the end of the weekend, and then went into a state of mild panic since he only had three days to get organized.
And so Mr Last Minute went to the “cadet store” at school the day before camp to pick up what he needed (apparently). That of course was exactly one week after the deadline for them to pick up their equipment – he assures me the place was full of boys on the day he went – I shouldn’t be surprised.
That night, after much hyperventilation by Mother of a Man-Child, we finally went through the list and the questions started……”What’s a C-H-U-X, I need one of them” (yep, a dish-cloth, clearly far too foreign to Man-Child). “And what about a S-C-O-U-R-E-R?” See first point! I felt panic coming on when he asked me if we had a Hexamine Stove! What??!! Oh yes, of course, let me just pull that out of the cupboard that contains all the camping equipment this non-camping family have! He was supposed to get it from the cadet store – whoops. Guess he’ll be enjoying uncooked two-minute noodles for lunch and cold beef & vegie stew for dinner. Unless he can borrow someone else’s stove. Really I could have clocked him one.
They sleep in a Hutchie on the Bivouac – yep, under a canvas tent sheet basically. At camp they are given the hutchie, sleeping mat and cords. It was only through us cross-checking the list we discovered he hadn’t collected the tent pegs – a vital component if the picture is accurate. Luckily I found some tent pegs in the kids play tents that will probably do the trick. Either that or he’ll be sleeping cloaked in a canvas sheet.
And then we came to the clothing to pack. For good reason they don’t take much as they have to carry everything in their pack. But they were given a list of essential clothing to take with them, including beanies and gloves because it’s going to be sub four degrees overnight – especially with these beautiful blue-sky days. So we tried to explain the need for a beanied head to retain heat, a track suit to provide extra layers, and thick Explorer socks for your feet, even in the worlds warmest sleeping bag, because it will be DAMN cold. But no, our very own Solo man wouldn’t take a jumper to sleep in – a t-shirt will be fine. I guess if he’s desperate he’ll just have to sleep in his army uniform!!
I am sure Man-Child II will thoroughly enjoy the camp. Who wouldn’t relish some time in the great outdoors, hiking, training, bonding, whilst soaking up the cool, crisp, warmish winter days. If per chance he does freeze his arse off, I’m sure he’ll never admit it to me. Maybe Father of a Man-Child will have to do the scouting on this one. And let’s just hope it doesn’t end the same way as the last school camp he attended (see the post below for more about that).
https://motherofamanchild.com/2011/03/25/mother-of-a-man-child-trouble-on-school-camp/
If it was possible to measure the output of testosterone in males, I swear my boys would be world record holders and probably blow up any machine that attempted to gauge it. Such is the surge of testosterone in our house I can almost feel the electric-like current running through the place sometimes.
I love Facebook. Those of my friends on Facebook know I’m pretty active and I like to share various things with my connections, whether that’s a strongly held point of view, a cute something my daughter said or did, or even my blog posts (clearly since I write this blog I am probably what some would call an “over-sharer”.)
A funny thing happened the other day. I discovered a heap of unknown contacts in my iPhone. What the? Where did these come from? And who are these people anyway? And then it dawned on me – they were my son’s contacts! GOLD!!!
“She Knows Everything” declared Man-Child II to Man-Child I recently. Yes, they were referring to me, Mother of a Man-Child, who stood calmly in their midst, delighted that her men-children had finally conceded nothing escapes me!
Mother’s Day has been and gone for another year. Unfortunately both my hubby and me are without our mothers now, something you can’t help but recall with sadness on this day. Fortunately however, being a mother means I also get to be the centre of the day’s events at home (well almost).
It’s been a while since I’ve updated you all on the nuances of teenage language, so I thought it was time for a refresher on the latest lingo on the street.
Okay, so here’s the thing. I seem to have an in-built bullshit radar that is on high alert these days. Which means my poor men-children get away with very little. I have taken the suspicious parent to new levels, with good reason it would seem, as the history of this blog shows. But assuming my radar isn’t fool proof, they must be getting away with something, sometimes (just like their mother did in her day).
Mother of a Man-Child 
Recent Comments