Noah left this morning for a week of camp. I’m sure the parents, siblings and grandparents for two bus loads of children looked like a blurry mob to the two hired drivers. I didn’t want to look blurry. I wanted to look crisp, clear and serious. I want to raise one eyebrow and give an icy stare that makes the driver sit up straight and be hyper vigilant to the other cars on the road. I want my child to be the gazillionaire, the celebrity or the boss’s child to that driver. I want that driver and everyone else who will be my child’s caregiver this week to stay alert, wash their hands before they prepare food and be someone who cares about the quality of their job instead of someone aware of the inadequacy of their paycheck. Lacking money or power, I am left with being known as that crazy lady you don’t want to mess with and I’m just not obnoxious enough to even earn that kind of respect. I could wear a shirt that says “Don’t make me blog about you” but then I’d have to explain blogs to the clueless masses. I am left with worry and hope that my children will be safe. That’s just not enough.