Whether it's camp for all boys or all girls, the YMCA and YWCA have the formula down pat and it hasn't changed since I was a kid. My middle son Zachary goes to such a camp. Dropping him off brings back such great memories I want to toss my duffel on a bunk, too. It's the perfect fit for him: It matches his personality and helps him grow in leadership and independence. The month away is his idea of heaven.

My oldest son Ben, on the other hand, has never had the desire to go to a place like that. No girls? No fashion? No thanks.

Ben is the kind of kid who loves the mall, shopping and a great ice cream. He enjoys swimming but doesn't want to race anyone or jump off the next higher rock. He wants to talk about Paris Hilton and her latest "achievements." His idea of a great book was the People magazine special edition of the American Idol contestants focusing on where they are now. He can tell you the top 10 hits on the pop charts for the last four weeks.

He also plays soccer, video games and watches baseball. He knows all the Red Sox players, and never turns down a chance to go to a game at Fenway — although I think it's more about the spectacle than the game itself. He participates in "traditional" boy activities but the idea of a day — let alone a month — without his acne proactive solution? Forget it.

A few years ago, though, I found the camp for Ben. Another lesbian mom told me about it. It'll be perfect for Ben, she promised. I wasn't so sure: It's a week-long camp based on a farm. The kids collect eggs from the chicken coop, muck out stalls and weed the garden. So I was skeptical about whether a week in the country with animals and chores would be a good fit.

It wasn't. A good fit, that is. It was a great fit.

Howe designed the camp with a friend of hers who is a social worker. Together, they came up with a week-long program based at the Farm School in Athol in which children of LGBT parents could much around together (literally) without having to explain their families to one another.

"There were kids who were completely alone in their schools or communities that had never met another kid with gay parents," says Howe of the children who've attended the camp. The first year a child attended from a distant state who'd never before met anyone else who was gay except for her own mother. Needless to say, Camp OUT was a powerful experience for her.

As it is for my son Ben. For five days, he gets to be Ben. It's a safe place. All the kids have two moms, or two dads, or some configuration that is not traditional. Campers don't have to watch their language. Talking about their moms plural or dads plural is okay. No one needs — or asks —- for an explanation. Our children are, for the most part, the same as any other. At the same time, they're quite different. They have to "come out" about their family every time they meet someone new. They are constantly asked, "Where's your dad?" or "What do you mean you don't have a mom?" Not out of malice but out of a true lack of understanding. Their family is questioned over and over. Even at the grocery store, when some cashier unknowingly asks, "Are you having fun with your dad??

And it's me, the mom.

Our children get targeted by overly enthusiastic school administrators who want to be sure everyone knows they embrace diversity. Our children understand that when a permission slip goes home to everyone when they are talking about "families" at school, it's because their family isn't considered "normal." As early as kindergarten, they learn it's a politically divisive issue. They know there is only one state in this country where their parents can get married.

When Ben was in second grade, a new friend who didn't know he had two moms came over to play. When they walked in the door, Ben burst out and said, in a single breath, "I have two moms, and in a few weeks a judge has ruled that they can get married legally, it wasn't before but they are still married even without the judge and that's the way it is so what do you want to go play?"

It's a lot to hold in. Camp OUT gives these children a safe place to put it down and walk away from it for a while. For my son Ben, it is a week he looks forward to all year. He packs several outfits for each day, along with the appropriate footwear and scented toiletries. Last summer the big debate was which pair of flip-flops to bring — or should he bring both?

Clearly, cleaning the chicken coop isn't high on his list.

I know there is a great summer camp for each of my kids. They all have different needs. They all are affected in different ways by the reality of that they have two moms and two dads, and are not the product of divorce — at least not yet. For Ben? It's huge to be able to have these five days where he is the norm. When he gets home? He gasps for a trip to a store, begs to go out to dinner somewhere civilized and immediately checks out the latest top 10 hits on iTunes.

And begin the eager wait, again, for next year.