Okay, so as you might recall, if you’ve been following along, I volunteered to be a counsellor at a special needs camp for a week.
I was nervous beyond belief. I even developed an eye twitch, when I’m really stressed out I get that and it’s beyond aggravating. Between the stress I was going through prior to going, and my nerves because I have never really had much interaction with special needs kids/people before and I didn’t know what to expect or what would be expected of me, I was a HOT MESS.
If I go again next year, which I’m seriously considering, I will know what to expect. Fun, fellowship, and a lot of people who have more in common than they do not.
(as my blog has grown in popularity since this post was written, I removed or fuzzed pictures where you can see people/locations clearly for their privacy.)
We had a pretty decently sized group. We all had a lot of fun, I think. Except one of the girls from my group got either a cold or allergies, which really sucks.
One of the other counsellors from my group helping ‘J’ up the climbing wall.
My group of ladies about to go go-karting. As you can see, we were having a lot of fun!
The whole week, I had fun, I sang, I helped, I studied scripture, I helped with crafts. I canoed, did a zipline, go-karted, and even took a midnight(ish) swim with the other counsellors + the cooks. Oh, the cooks. Sigh. I thought I was going to gain five pounds that week, but I guess I was active enough that I only really gained one.
Oh, and lastly, here’s one of a gazillion pictures I took that were Much Better than the ones that Chris took of ME pushing Nicole. Scroll down to the next post to see the best picture he took of me. Yeah. LOL
And yes, that is what you think it is. Socks and sandals. Don’t say a word. I don’t have a choice in letting him out of the house like that, sorry. At least you can’t see the full bush beard he is trying to grow. Good grief. I told him if he grows a full bush beard (no insult to those who like them, but I Do. Not. Like.) I am going to cut my hair off and dye it black and red. Which would be fun, but he Does. Not. Like. So we’ll see. Probably will have another case of him not believing me until I do it. Just like the Laundry Incident. (When I told him I would do a load of laundry a day, so if his clothes were in the hamper they’d get done. HOWever, if his clothes were on the floor, IGNORE BUTTON. He agreed but didn’t believe me. Until he ran out of clothes.)