Even at camp, parents hover

A new disease: 'kid-sickness'

CHICAGO -- Eve Pidgeon watched the kids, many of them laughing and chatting excitedly as they boarded a bus for summer sleepaway camp last summer.

"They just couldn't wait," says Pidgeon, whose 8-year-old daughter Zoe was among the group of young campers.

Then Pidgeon noticed something else:

"There were no children crying -- just parents."

These days, camp leaders and family counselors say it's an increasingly common dynamic. It used to be the homesick kid begging to come home from camp. Now they've noticed that it's often parents who have more trouble letting go.

They call it "kid-sickness," a condition attributed in large part to today's more involved style of parenting. Observers also say it's being exacerbated by our ability to be in constant contact by cell phone and computer, as well as many parents' perception that the world is a more dangerous place.

For leaders at many camps, it has meant that dealing with parents has become a huge part of their jobs.

"The time and energy camp directors put into preparing parents for camp is now equal to the time they prepare children for camp," says Peg Smith, head of the American Camp Association, which works with about 2,600 camps nationwide.

Pidgeon readily admits she's one of those parents.

Last summer, the single, working mother of two wiped away her own tears, as Zoe left for 10 days at Camp Maas, about 40 miles northwest of their home in Grosse Pointe Park, Mich.

Before Zoe went to camp last summer, her mom loaded her daughter's backpack with stationery and stamps, since the only way she was allowed to contact her family was through handwritten letters. Both her parents, who are divorced, and Zoe's younger brother Ben wrote to her often.

But as they watched their mailboxes each day, nothing came.

Pidgeon later discovered that, when mailing her letters home, Zoe used stickers with bees on them instead of the "normal stamps" her mom had given her.

But even when she eventually got the letters Zoe had sent, something about them struck her.

"Her letters, when they came, weren't about missing us -- it was all about her amazing adventures," Pidgeon says.

Zoe had been horseback riding and rock climbing, had taken part in a lip-syncing competition -- and tried all kinds of things she never thought she could do.

"They do keep you really busy," says Zoe, who's now 9.

"I think you get a half an hour from the time you dry off from your shower after you swim until your next activity. You really don't have time to miss your parents."

Learn to let go

Bob Ditter, a therapist who works with children, adolescents and families in Boston, has acted as a consultant to camps since the early 1980s and says he hears stories like those all the time.

He says there's something to be said for a parent who cares, but not to the point of becoming a "helicopter parent" who constantly hovers over children, stepping in to monitor their choices and solve their problems, even into adult life.

"Parents love their kids a lot," Ditter says. But they also need to let go sometimes. He is, for instance, absolutely opposed to the idea of Internet webcams that allow parents to monitor their children at camp.

"Would you put a webcam in your child's bedroom?" Ditter asks. "I think parents need to trust that all the good work they've done teaching their kids values and to stand up for themselves, it's all there."

At Camp Arowhan in northern Ontario, they call it a "parent-ectomy." As is standard policy at many camps, director Joanne Kates doesn't allow her campers to phone, fax or e-mail their parents. They can, however, use a private service that contracts with the camp to exchange handwritten messages, which are scanned and sent throughout the week.