I did it all for these goofballs. Hope I didn't make them look too bad.
Saturday morning sucked.
Realizing that I am not the spring chicken that I used to be, I pinched a nerve in my neck bungee jumping simply by towel-drying my hair after showering Friday, rendering myself stiff-necked and barely able to look around as I backed up my car.
After a long day’s work and coming home exhausted, I had two hours of Scout Camp Orientation to look forward to Saturday morning. YEAH!
As a volunteer, my reward was TWO HOURS INSIDE OF A CHURCH FELLOWSHIP HALL ON A SUNNY SATURDAY! My excitement was buzzing as was my fuzzy brain from the pain pills I’d taken the night before.
It took about ten minutes listening to the experienced Scoutmasters until I was catching up on my critical Words with Friends series of games. How many times did I need to hear: “hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!” to the point of where we were actually going to keep bathroom logs to rate the color of urine to ensure campers were hydrated? (I kid you not.)
Furthermore, I was late getting all of the requested hair and blood samples, thirty pages of documentation and the blessed copy of my health insurance card. To add to my weekend frustration I was wigging about trying to find said insurance card and couldn’t find my wallet anywhere, despite turning the house and my vehicle upside down.
We finally found a card as I raced off to the 10am training, but my *#$*%$E%* home fax/copier wasn’t all about complying so I pretty much still looked like the loser than I am when I walked in simply holding the plastic card with the digits of my health insurance plan vs. the copy requested of me.
As I sat and listened to all the requisite and admirable Scout ”character development” qualities we would be asked to model such as “Positive Attitude” and “Perseverance” I wondered how long I could make it before logging into Words with Friends. Was there any character development plan for chronic WWF addiction?
After lots of kids fumbled around in their sits (admirably, my kids wouldn’t have made it ten minutes) and various adults in Scout regalia dictated our responsibilities in painstaking detail my neck was starting to kill me and I realized in my search for the lost wallet
It's painful, but for this little cutie and his adorable big brother, sure, I'll sit here.
I’d eaten nothing. DOH!
“We’re sorry this is going to run a little late.” The dreaded words were like painful handcuffs, clamping down on my wrists as I watched my Saturday morning slip away, hunger pangs now audibly obvious. After several parents asked personal questions relating to which children they were responsible for (This was listed in the packet we’d receive. It registered with me the first ten times it was mentioned.)
After what seemed like a ten-year prison sentence it was time for our tour of the grounds. Freedom was so very close.
Tour completed, we waited in line for our packets and t-shirts. Our Scout leader was in the packet line, so I took the t-shirt line. “Resourcefulness” value: check!
It’s finally my turn, and eager to model my “Responsibility” value utter dismay descends as I’m asked “Cub or Webelo?”
Ummm. . .”Webelo, I guess.” (My boys belong to each group.)
Sensing my uncertainty the woman in charge of t-shirts responded, “I can’t give you any t-shirts without your packet.”
I don't believe this expression models any of the critical Scout values.
“Seriously?” I retorted, my “Faith” and “Cooperation” core values waning by the moment. Trying to be “Helpful” I ask the son of my co-chaperone to go to the back of the line and ask his mom (who has already received the packets) to join me in our mission to GET OUT OF THIS JOINT AND ONTO OUR WEEKEND complete our duties.
He runs right back and breathlessly answers: “She said no, she’ll wait in line.” I have now been in this training 2.5 hours and have little to show for it. “Positive Attitude” completely dissolved at this moment, I ask him to have her handle it, and walk out the door.
I didn’t complete my mission, my patience was obliterated, and I realized at this moment that I don’t own one single item of Scout regalia. “Perseverance” was nowhere to be found.
My confidence in being blacklisted on the chaperone list is strong.
The good news is: I found my wallet later that afternoon under my five-year-old’s lounge chair! Thank Heaven for little miracles.
Stay tuned for more adventures in chaperone land . . .3-9pm all this week, folks!
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