I’ve sipped on the Kool-Aid and am now part of the Girl Scouts collective. What started as me being sort of helicopter-mom-ish and tagging along with Stella to her extracurricular activity to help her socialize and not freak out has turned into a bit of a passion. I have started my leadership training so that I can assume the official mantle of Daisy Scout co-leader next year.
I must be out of my damn mind. I mean, I spend loads of time on this blog bitching about how my kids are kind of insane and how I need quiet and alone time. And now I’m volunteering to spend more time with many more children that I’m not legally responsible for? Yes. Yes I am. And I’m going to make it better. (I think my Venus project has gone to my head. I’m feeling a bit mega-maniacal.)
The current co-leader is awesome. She has this laid-back, mellow, sunny energy. She’s the kind of chick you’d really like to hang out with. She’s fun. She’s quirky. She’s sassy. But she has ZERO ORGANIZATIONAL SKILLS that I have witnessed. Despite the fact that we are given agendas for each meeting in order to make things more structured and manageable (in theory), she doesn’t seem to actually read them before we all get together. Her meetings are the Girl Scout version of Widespread Panic concerts – all floppy. And you know what? That’s ok. Unless we have a large agenda. Then floppy won’t cut it.
The agenda for this week’s meeting was pretty damn terrifying. It was by far the most ambitious meeting I had participated in, and I had some concerns. When I saw the co-leader at a birthday party last Saturday I told her “We need to have our merde together for this one. It’s beastly.” She promised she would actually read it before the meeting. Okaaaaaaay.
To celebrate the “birthday” of the Girl Scouts organization, we had a poster to make and a service project to complete. Usually by the time I get the girls, let them go outside to play and have a snack, and get everyone back in there is maybe 45 minutes left. It’s usually closer to 30, since the girls need the bathroom, oh yeah and I’m thirsty, and I need to go back to my book sack because I don’t have my tunic on. This is a 12-girl-strong mob of 5 and 6 year olds. Cat herding has got nothing on this. The poster portion wasn’t bad. It was written up like a ceremony and each girl got to put a piece on it. The leader in charge had written a script and provided everything, so it was idiot-proof.
The service project was the scary bit. Each girl was to assemble and decorate a “birthday box” to give to a local food bank so that an underprivileged person could have a birthday party. There were about a billion parts to each box: cake pan, cake mix, icing, candles, balloons, cups, tablecloth, the whole damn enchilada. None of this was prepped ahead of time. The older girls simply brought our supplies to the classroom we were in and left. There were 12 of everything. This was a recipe for disaster. I kind of took charge.
The girls had cupcakes to celebrate. I sent them and the co-leader outside to eat while I frantically set everything up in stations around the room. When the girls came back in, we were ready and somehow it came together. The girls were very proud of their boxes and it really was a neat idea.
By the time I got out of there with Stella, picked up Felix, got home to finish dinner prep, ate, and got the kids bathed, I was worn out. I mentioned to Will that I would have to do a 3 hour training deal sometime over the summer – either at night or on a Saturday – so he would need to keep the kids. He told me he thought I was a crazy person. Maybe so. But I like this brand of cute little girl crazy. And I will be a damn good co-leader. And I will bring order to the chaos. (I’m such a neurotic bitch.)
Oh man. What will I get sucked into with Felix?