The Cancer Support Community in Bozeman is great, and has a lot of useful resources. Through them, our family was invited to attend a long weekend retreat at Camp Māk-a-Dream in Gold Creek, Montana.
It’s kind of shocking to me still that we were able to do this for free. Everything was free! All the food, accommodations, activities.
I’m still half waiting for a bill to come in the mail.
I feel like a fraud, like I took advantage of someone, somehow.
We drove the 2+ hours from Bozeman to Gold Creek on Thursday afternoon, arriving for check-in at about 3PM. We were shown to our private bunk room in a shared cabin. In addition to the choice of four bunk beds and two singles, we also had our own ensuite bathroom with two toilet stalls and two shower stalls.
Violet of course opted for a top bunk, and we brought a pack-and-play for Sylvie. We draped an extra sleeping bag between two of the top bunks to create a sort of wall around her crib so that she wouldn’t be able to see us in the night.
Sleep proved to be an ongoing challenge throughout the weekend despite our best efforts. Turns out there is a reason we don’t all share a room at home.
The staff and the facilities were great. I intend no criticism whatsoever. We were totally responsible for our own experience which was, in the end…fine.
I forgot my pillow and sleep mask, and had I better understood the accommodations I would have brought my own blanket and towel, too. Something about using someone else’s sleeping bag gives me the ick. I felt itchy and uncomfortable while struggling with insomnia each night, trying not to move on the crinkly mattress for fear of waking my children.
I lie on the bottom bunk with my phone flashlight propped against my chin, the light pointing at my book.
Two unisom pills and an ativan do nothing to help me sleep.
The food in this kind of context will never be ideal for me as a vegetarian. At meals, I’m typically hoping for one or two substantive sides and praying for a salad or sandwich bar.
There was a cereal bar, and between that, bananas, apples, and toast the girls and I managed. The mains were generally fine—pasta one night was a gift, and there was pizza one afternoon which, while not nearly up to the impossible standard of my own superlative sourdough crust, was palatable and filling.
There were a few other kids of similar ages to mine, but most of the kids were tweens and teens and overall I felt that my girls were a little too young for the experience.
All of us were pretty grumpy on the first morning due to a lack of sleep.
Most of all me.
I do not function well in the best of times, but without sleep? Fuck you.
Violet woke up weepy and overtired. Suddenly the jorts that have been a recent favorite “don’t fit” (they do) and everything else is also terrible. There was lots of crying and wailing before breakfast.
The first activity of the first day was archery, which Sylvie had no chance at. Violet’s initial excitement quickly fell to disappointment when she realize the bow was far too big and heavy for her to operate. We tried doing it together, me on my knees holding the bow while she notched and drew back an arrow, but that didn’t really work. She wasn’t strong enough.
Once I got off my knees and had a proper go at it, I quite enjoyed the archery. But I was competing for turns with ten and twelve year old boys, which is not a great look, so I only got to try once.
I was very terrible at it—I’m pretty sure one of my arrows is lost in a field beyond the range—but I still quite liked it. I feel like with practice I could get the hang of it.
Tie-dye was next and it took us all of two minutes to soak our shirts in colors. I’m not sure what we were meant to do with the remainder of the allotted time, but the girls had been doing A LOT of sitting still and listening to directions and safety instructions and waiting their turns all morning, so we left the art barn and went for a walk.
After lunch, Sylvie and I took naps while Luke and Violet brushed therapy horses and did the climbing wall. I didn’t get to see Violet in action but I’m told she was really brave and made it almost all the way to the top.
Sylvie woke up in a foul mood, as she is sometimes wont to do, and we all went wandering around campus for our free time. We played mini golf on a private putt-putt course. Luke won by a stroke, but I got a hole-in-one so who’s the real winner? Violet and Sylvie played in the sand of the beach volleyball court while Luke trounced me at PIG on the basketball hoop.
Violet tried to play basketball with us and let’s just say she has inherited her mother’s athleticism.
There was lots to do—pickle ball, tennis, pool, air hockey, loads of games and sports equipment—but our kids are just a little too young for camp.
I can see this being fun in two or three years.
At several points, I found myself resenting the current phase of parenting in which I find myself. The parents of older, more independent kids were able to sit and enjoy their meals without chasing a toddler away from the stairs or begging their child to please for the love of God eat something because this would be their only chance for hours.
Parenting is so labor intensive right now.
I cling to the hope that once they can dress themselves and wipe their own asses this will all feel a little easier, but right now I’m chafing against the constraints of their constant needs.
It’s easier in my home setting, in our normal routines, to turn off this part of my brain that remembers what fun and freedom feel like. In an environment where I could otherwise be playing and socializing it’s a lot harder to forget.
The families are divided into two groups for the activities, and Violet is about a decade younger than the next youngest kid in our cohort. The other group has all the young kids, which is a shame.
In the afternoon Luke and I attend a parent support group while our kids are entertained by the staff. There’s another parent group around the campfire after dinner, which Luke misses because he’s putting Sylvie to bed and watching Violet. I go back to the cabin when the therapy session ends and bring Violet to the campfire while Luke waits with Sylvie. We eat s’mores and Violet befriends another little girl. They dance to Frozen music together and then hop around like mad bunnies.
Sleep that night is grim once again. Middle-of-the-night wake-ups and endless back pats. Luke bears the brunt of it, as usual.
On the second day we zipline. Violet is very brave, braver than the ten-year-old boy in our group who opts out at the last minute despite much pressure and cajoling from his family. She loves it, and goes twice, smiling and waving the whole time.
I got a little scared at the moment I had to step off the platform, but I figured if my four-year-old could manage it then so could I.
Our next activity is something mysteriously named Family Systems. I’ve been worried all morning that it’s some sort of lecture I’ll have to bounce and shush my children through. I’ve been asking anyone who might know what exactly Family Systems means.
It turns out we’re to make a poster board representing our family’s timeline with cut-out pictures from magazines. The magazines have already been pored over by the previous groups, and all the pictures that are left are terrible.
I put a nest at the center surrounded by feathers to represent our home on a bird-named street. We scour the magazines for pictures of dogs cats, babies.
The timeline begins with our wedding in 2018 and includes our dog Henry’s arrival in our family, the adoption of our first cat, Violet’s birth, the first cat’s death, Sylvie’s birth, and the adoption of our second cat.
It seems like more things should have happened in the last seven years. The poster board is rather bare.
I put some books on to represent my editing, and a fish for Luke’s job at a fishing apparel company. I’m not sure what else to do so I add some flowers and trees, pictures of mountains. We trace Sylvie’s hand. I get annoyed with Violet because she only wants to color on the poster board using brown marker, and I want color. I don’t know why I’m getting bent out of shape about this. Who cares? But still I feel my irritation rising.
Is this the real point of family systems? To illuminate the weaknesses in ours?
I add Violet starting school, feeling like we should have more to show for our time.
We all need naps after lunch, so we go back to the cabin and attempt to rest, missing another group therapy session.
When Sylvie wakes up we head to the pool and play until it closes. This is exhausting for everyone, as Sylvie is determined to throw herself face-first into the water and Violet doesn’t quite accept that she can’t actually swim.
After dinner there’s a talent show,1 and then a movie night which we skip in favor of bedtime for the girls. Once they’re down Luke heads back out to play 9-ball for the second night in a row while I read on the couch. He takes advantage of the late sunset and plays until after ten.
On Sunday we pack and arrive at breakfast late due to a massive poop incident. I won’t say whose. We hustle to grab yogurts and croissants before everything is put away. Luke manages to get the last dregs of coffee before it’s all gone.
There’s a farewell ceremony with lots of hugging and thanking. We take our tie-dye shirts but decline to keep our poster board. Somehow I don’t think it will be a good addition to the decor in our home.
It was a fun weekend and I’m sure will be much more fun in hindsight, when I’m not tired and hungry and grumpy.
The kids are not okay, people. Two 12 year old girls sang along to youtube videos of songs they love. One was Brainstorm by Livingston and the other was Overwhelmed by Ryan Mack.
I completely understand the difficult of parenting little ones during cancer treatment. Most of the people I talk to that are going through treatments have teenagers or at least school aged children, but I’m still wiping butts and changing diapers. There was a period of time when my kids were getting so much screen time, that a previous version of myself would have seriously judged my parenting. Sadly all we can do is keep going. Keep it up!