It’s funny, I get so caught up in the crazy schedules of the kids with school and Scouts and life in general during September through most of June, I always have this grand idea that when summer comes, I’ll have so much more time.  What I forget is that there are 24 hours in a day whether it’s July or December.  And just because the kids aren’t doing the daily school grind doesn’t mean there aren’t obligations and commitments in other arenas during the summer months.  Still, there’s something I absolutely adore about the luxury of making our own schedule to suit our own desires during the summer.  There may be the same amount of hours, and while our commitments aren’t nearly as pressing as when school is in session, we still have obligations to uphold, yet there’s a certain sense of laziness and down time that I always associate with summer that I can’t deny.

The thing is, I’ve spent the last few weeks (when not volunteering at day camp) working on organizing this and that around the house.  I’ve cleaned those icky places that get overly neglected.  I’ve made plans for areas that have been overlooked for too long.  I’ve made mental inventory of what needs to be done in various areas of my life and made plans and timelines to take care of those needs.  And yet… I’ve been able to hang out in my pajamas all day on more days than not the last few weeks.  I’ve been able to stay up into the early morning on more than a few occasions.  We’ve had dinner at 9pm on at least two occasions.  We have gone out and about into the late hours.  One night the kids and I spent some time outside in the screened gazebo chatting and playing cards while I sifted through paperwork. 

The vampire in me is greatly pleased with these hours we’ve been keeping.  The sloth in me loves the “take it as it comes” pace.  I love that I’m getting things done, but that I’m getting them done in a manner and at a pace that makes it feel like I’m not really doing anything.  The best part of all of this is not having to do the morning grind.  I hate mornings and I especially hate mornings when I’m pressed to get things done or get people out the door by a specific time. 

Tonight Jenica and Devon and I went to Safeway late at night.  Devon needed some things for his campout and I wanted to pick up some groceries for Jen and I since the boys would be out of town.  Jen and I picked a variety of lush tomatoes and cucumbers.  We’ll have a beautiful mutli-colored tomato/cucumber/red onion salad for lunch tomorrow with grilled sourdough & cheddar cheese sandwiches.  Hello, yum?  For dinner we’ll likely make foil packets with yummy veggies - including my favorite baby bella mushrooms. We’ll stay up late watching movies or walking Tillie.  Maybe I’ll convince her to sleep out in a tent on the patio tomorrow night with me. 

While I’m dreading the heat that’s due the next couple of days, I’m still loving the lazy summer schedule we’ve been able to adopt.  Makes me wish summer could be always.  (Oh, I say this, but I know in a few weeks the heat will drive me mad and I’ll be pining for the crisp, wet autumn.)

Like most of the leaders I know on the Cub Scout level, I save everything.  One never knows when a bunch of empty oatmeal containers will be needed as tribal drums or empty Tic-Tac containers will be called upon to house bugs for examination before their ultimate release, or egg cartons will be fashioned into an array of adorable sea creatures.  Screws?  I got screws - in every shape, size, and color.  Hammers?  Well, I have to keep at least enough on hand for a den of boys, right?  Even if I’m not a den leader anymore, the rest of the den leaders in our pack know they can rely on me when it comes to random project and craft supplies.

Supplies that end up quickly becoming… clutter.

Add to this my countless stacks of paperwork, flyers, dittos, old programs and invitations, and a host of other stuff I’ve kept over the years to use as examples for the next committee head for this activity or that banquet and stacks of extra applications and med forms and all of the paperwork for new scouts and their parents as well as new leaders and uhhhh…. yeah.  THAT paperwork used to be considerably more under control when the pack had a secretary, but as that position is currently vacant, I have been called upon to fill those shoes as well as those of the Committee Chairman.

Looking around after the last pack meeting, I decided - finally - that I had to do something about all this mess.  Some of what I had wasn’t useful anymore, and some of what I had couldn’t be used simply because I couldn’t find it.  Paperwork was outdated, old Adult applications needed to be tossed, dried up makers needed to be replaced, things just needed to be put back into some kind of order again.

I have started with decorations, ceremony items (our Cubmaster is a bit shy so I do a lot of the advancement and opening ceremonies), craft and project supplies, and the “prize bin”.  Those items are all relatively easy for me to organize.  They’re all tangible.  They all have a specific purpose and could easily go into bins and buckets, zip lock baggies and giant totes.  Within a single day I had that stuff tamed and put away.  Now, when we decide to have a Scout Bucks auction, I’m on it.  One tote, clearly and carefully labeled, gets pulled out and plopped into my car for transport.  Easy peasy.  If a den leader calls and wants to know if I have popcicle sticks, I have a large tote - carefully labeled and inventoried.  I can look at the top of the bin and know instantly how much of what I’ve got.

Now, the paperwork issue… not so easy.  I’ve been working on it for days now with only minimal progress.  How much do I keep?  How much do I toss?  Some of the older training materials and resources (Pack Trainer being one of the exciting hats I wear!) needed to be tossed.  I have better, newer, more pertinent materials, now, so the old stuff went straight to the recycle bin.  But what about that 20 page printout from some random website I’ll never be able to find again (complete with instructions, material lists - and where to get the materials - as well as diagrams and photos!) on ideas for carnival games for our annual district carnival?  Does it go into the file cabinet?  The traveling file box?  A notebook?  Just because I found it useful, will someone else?

It makes me sadly longing for the days when one could bookmark a freebie website knowing it was a freebie website and would be around forever.  That false sense of security is one most of us will never embrace again, knowing some of our favorite Scouting related websites have moved, been deleted, gotten lost when “freebie” hosts decided to go pay or close down.  I’m thankful I DID print out so many pages from websites since so many of them are now gone.  Still, now that I have this great information, what exactly do I do with it to make it more accessible to me - and theoretically and hopefully - to others?

What about paperwork on individual scouts?  How long do I want to hold on to it?  Medical forms get renewed and replaced each year, but what about advancement records? Should I hold on to those after a Scout has left?  Should those linger after a Scout has crossed over?

Honestly, digging through this mountain of papers reminds me of the happy days of being “just” a den leader.  I could handle the craft buckets and half a dozen or so copies of medical forms.  I miss those days.  I miss having a pack secretary.  I miss someone else being responsible for some of this stuff.  I suspect this is going to be good for me in the long run, though, and I suspect somewhere, deep down, this is good for my soul, too.

Or penance for any evil deeds I may have done in my life.  Hee.

At least I know what I’m asking Santa for Christmas…

Dear Santa,
I have been very pretty good this year.  Could I please have my own personal secretary?  I will always usually sometimes share with the pack.  I will even retract postpone my request for my own personal cabana boy to fan me and feed me grapes if you are willing to meet me halfway and send me a secretary for Christmas.

Sound good so far?

What do you do to tame your paperwork beasts?

It’s funny, we all know someone who’s just drama-drama-drama all the time - and none of it is their own.  They are the people who are raging on and on about, “What am I GOING TO DO!?” over the fact that their brother’s wife’s cousin is going through bankruptcy proceedings or their company is changing policies that only vaguely and probably only possibly might effect them.  They are the people we want to flick on their foreheads and say, “Mind your own shit.”  My daddy said it best, “Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing, pay attention to yourself.”

On the flip side, I remember being so hurt and absolutely put off when I’d call my mother up in tears begging for some kind of emotional support and she’d say, “Look, I have my own things to deal with.”  What?  And you can’t give a little time and attention to your daughter!?  Apparently not, but it never occurred to me that she was doing exactly what I want other people to do - minding her own shit.

What do YOU do when someone brings something to you when your plate is full?  Do you drop your own garbage in order to help out friends?  Are you a better cheerleader or nurturer to other people than to yourself?  Or are you self sufficient and independent enough to tell people to go away when they need you but you have your own stuff to tend?  What phrases work best for saying, “Sorry, I got nuthin for you?” without coming off like a total asshole?  Do you even care if you seem like a jerk?

I’m interested in knowing what ya’ll think.  I’m pretty bad about putting off my own responsibilities and needs for other people - even when I know I shouldn’t.  Then again, I always figure it’s pretty much a “need” thing when people come to me, because I don’t sugar coat or nod and offer appropriate grunting noises.  When people come to me, they know I’m gonna give my opinion and lay it out like I think it is, whether they want it or not… so people know better than to come to me unless that’s exactly what they do want.  Still, sometimes I just want to scream, “LOOK! I have my OWN stuff to deal with!”  (Without sounding like my mother…*sigh*)

Presented for your enjoyment:
————————————
May 1, 2009

Dear Mrs. F.,

I don?t doubt you will receive many well deserved cards and letters of thanks during this time of year.  Some letters will arrive during teacher appreciation week and some at the end of the year when students are overwhelmed with sentimentality as they finish their journey through elementary school and prepare to start a new adventure in middle school.  While I?m sure each kind word will be appreciated, hopefully this letter will be unique.

You see, while other parents are thanking you for your commitment to science and history, or students are thanking you for being so kind and teaching more about community within the classroom, and the PTO is of course grateful for your dedication and help, my thanks comes from a simpler, less romantic place.  I simply want to thank you for not quitting.

No wait!  Hear me out!

As you may know, I?ve been involved with the Scouting program in our community for a few years now and as with any organization, there are good days and bad days.  I recently was having a rather bad day and wondering whether or not the work I was doing was even worthwhile.  Another Scouter friend of mine took me aside and simply said, “You?re not defined by your achievements, but by the obstacles you overcome.”

There is no doubt in my mind that you have managed more than a few achievements over this past year.  Whether you measure your success by the test scores and grades your students have received or by the wide grins and brightening of their eyes as you guided them through an “Ah-ha!” learning moment when they finally understood or realized something they didn?t know before, you certainly are a successful teacher. 

As great as your achievements have been this year, it is some of the obstacles that I (sometimes painfully) observed you maneuver through that have defined your character and strengths so clearly to me.  Simply put:  I am so grateful that of all the people in the world, you were Sebastian?s sixth grade teacher.  Why?  Because in spite of adversity and all of the times your boundaries were tested and tried, you had the tenacity to hang in there, try new things, and commit yourself to the education of all of the boys and girls in your class.

When I think of the uncounted times you had to send my son or one of his unruly cronies to the office or when I imagine the number of times you were interrupted by a stray paper airplane, an inappropriately timed joke, or the physical comedic antics of any one of those little wild cats, my heart goes out to you, and I think, “I just couldn?t do it.”  And yet, you did.  Day after day, you held firm, you devised different systems, you held conferences with the offender and/or with his parents, and most amazingly of all, each day you came back and did it all over again.

You are an amazing woman, obviously gentle and kind, yet to your very core you?re strong and dedicated.  You were able to see past what must have been frustratingly difficult disruptions and distractions and realize the potential of each one of your students.  You devoted yourself to not just one star teacher?s pet, but to each and every youth represented in your class.  For that, I thank you.  You have treated all parents, all students, and all staff with such a fairness and sensitivity, that I stand in awe of your skills as an educator and as someone who clearly is concerned about making a difference in every person who comes into your life.

For this, and so much more, I thank you.  When you could have quit by taking the easy road and ignoring the trouble makers or the stand-up (or tipped back in their chairs) comedians, you stayed true to your students.  You are a shining example of what?s precisely right with [this school].

While there were certainly a great many blissful classroom moments, (well, I?d like to think so, though I didn?t personally observe any) I?m sure other parents will thank you for those.  I just wanted to thank you for the not-so-blissful moments during which your true character shined.  Anyone can seem bold and strong and patient in times of peace and harmony, but you managed through every petty argument, through every sarcastic comment, and through every hormonal outburst of your young students to exemplify what we in Cub Scouts have as our motto:  DO YOUR BEST.

Thank you for not giving up on this year?s sixth grade class – as a whole.  Thank you for not giving up on even one single student.  Thank you for the lessons you have taught them, as much about themselves as people as about geometry or parts of speech.

Thank you… for not quitting.

Sincerely,

LAF

Tonight’s dinner is in recognition of the adult leaders within the Scouting program.  I’m not actually receiving any awards this year, but three people from my unit are getting at least one well deserved award, so I wanted to go to present and support mah Cub Scout Leader homies!  Besides, these award dinners are sort of fun and this year’s theme (Survivor Island) sounded too fun to miss.  Plus, after asking around, I got some great food ideas.

A long-distance Scouter friend (shout out to Scott!) told me to make “greasy grimy gopher guts”, which actually looks REALLY freaking good.  (Aaah and as I type this at 3:30am, it actually sounds even better.  I’m starving for just such a comforting dish!)  I actually wanted to save that recipe for something else down the line, though, so I actually held off on that one.  This dessert looked adorable, but, um, yeah, maybe a little more work than I felt like putting in (oh how little did I know how much work I would actually be putting in!) plus I don’t have a jello mold, plus I’m not especially fond of jello - or pudding - so, um, yeah, pass.

In the end, I decided on shrimp with this dipping sauce, mango salsa with homemade sweet potato chips, and for dessert, mango sorbet.  Technically speaking, I could have gotten away with one dish but I felt inclined to bring one for TDO, as well.  I ended up with three when I got a whole box of mangoes at Costco (the price was right!) and had to figure out something to do with so freaking many mangoes.  Let me tell you… the sorbet isn’t done freezing, yet, but a sneak taste proves it was definitely worth it.  Oh.  So.  Good!

The only major pitfall I discovered along the way was when I decided to second guess myself.  I’ve made my own potato chips before.  I made them at one point when I had some hot oil going after making little tortilla strips for chicken tortilla soup and thought, “I wonder if I could make my own potato chips?”  Turns out it’s a lot easier than one might think.  The key is to slicing the little buggers super thin.  I really need a mandolin slicer if I’m going to make a habit of this.  Anyway, back to second guessing myself… I thought, “Wow, this is Scouting.  It’s all about being the best you can be and being healthy is part of that.  I should totally bake my chips instead of frying them!”

Mmnyeah.  That I have never done.  The instructions I found were conflicting.  One said 450 degrees for 10 minutes on each side, the other 200 degrees for one hour each side.  Since I have limited oven space and limited cookie sheets, I thought, “Hey, twenty minutes a batch sounds waaaaay better than two hours per batch, right?”  Totally...  If you like little dark brown (and/or black) husks of what used to be sweet potatoes mixed in with lumps of not-quite-cooked-because-it-was-too-thick sweet potatoes.  I went through more than half of my sweet potato stash trying different temps and thicknesses of tater before I gave up and decided to fry them.  The fried ones turned out beautifully.  There aren’t many of them, though.  Thankfully, I predicted something may go awry (*sigh* of course it did, this is ME we’re talking about) and that some people may want something more traditional, so I also picked up some blue corn tortilla chips and I have some regular white corn tortilla chips, too.  I’ll just mix everything together in a bowl and hope it looks aesthetic and zippy.  (*snort*)

So why… why did I go to all this trouble?  I could have made a cheap and easy pasta salad a couple of hours before the dinner and called it good, right?  Except.  No.  I can’t. 

See, I’m a stay-at-home-mom.  It’s expected that I will do some wowy zowy fabulous something, since, well, you know, I don’t do anything, right?  No, I’m not just having one of my typical paranoid moments.  Ask any at-home mom and even if she doesn’t actually push herself to live up to the expectation, she will tell you that, yes, absolutely, that expectation is there, unspoken, (or sometimes quite blatantly spoken) in our faces at every potluck, every class party, every birthday party, every single event in which some domestic-ish flair is called upon.  Let me just clarify that not all of us have that innate skill and passion.  Oh sure, I love getting fancy pants now and then, or more likely than that, I love experimenting, but the reality is, I don’t have it innately, nor am I driven toward that extra sparkle.  Even when I think I’ve got it, I don’t really, I’m just faking it for the moment. 

I really do wish I could just plop some frozen meatballs in a crock pot, pour some bottled bbq sauce over the top, set the thing on low and then have it all set right before the event I’m attending.  Working moms like our Cubmaster, well, they can get away with that because they have the excuse, “Well… I have work!  I don’t have time to fuss with anything more!”  Now, that’s not to knock anyone, cos one of my favorite things is, well, not meatballs, but those little itty bitty weenies?  yeah those… in bbq sauce… in a crock pot.  Pure heaven.  And I don’t care who did it or how little time they spent, it’s freaking awesome good.  But no one expects anything fabulous.  In fact, it’s perfectly acceptable for a working mom to pick up a box of cookies from the bakery and call it a day.  I can’t get away with that, not without someone making a snotty comment. 

Last year for the BSA adult recognition dinner, I did make meatballs, but I made a homemade golden bbq sauce (nearly burning off my eyebrows and nose hair in the process - that shit is STRONG!  Pure vinegary goodness!) because, you know, it had to be special and unique and show that I put time into it.  Since, of course, I have nothing else on which to spend my (obvious) abundance of time, I had to my sauce from scratch.  Funny enough, everyone thought the meatballs were from scratch, too.  They weren’t, they were the frozen ones from Costco.  I didn’t bother to correct anyone, because, hey, let them think I spent my day rolling itty bitty meatballs into perfect circles.  Why not?  At least then they think I’m lifeless in a semi-productive way.

Sorry.  I think one of my eyes just rolled out of my head.

The funny thing is, the only time invested in this year’s fancy pants dishes was in research beforehand (mostly done by friends - thanks guys!), and in chopping fruits and veggies.  Seriously.  That’s it. Cutting up mangoes is neither entertaining nor “easy” (finding that $#(*&#% seed in the middle isn’t as easy as that guy makes it look!) but it’s not really that time consuming.  Since I didn’t actually “cook” anything (salsa and sorbet aren’t cooked and I bought pre-cooked breaded shrimp to just bake tomorrow before we go to match with the sauce), it was actually pretty quick.  I did it all (ironically) while watching General Hospital.  (OH come ON… you have to laugh over that!)  But, hey, it’ll look like I actually poured out this amazing effort and when people say, “Oh where did you buy this FABULOUS mango salsa,” and I say, “Oh, I made it myself,” and they’ll look duly impressed for a moment, all the while thinking, “Of course she did, she has time for things like that!”

Why yes, yes I do.  And I’ll have the world know I gave up doing the daily fishing quest on WoW just so I could invest time making these dishes.  How’s that for sacrifice!

In April.

I had to triple check my calendar.  I thought I’d lost a month - maybe two. 

No.  It really is April.  It really was over 90.  It’s only a little past one and it’s already 85. 

Good thing I’ve been told that global warming is a myth, otherwise I might worry.

- Nothing better than prying kids out of bed, fighting the morning routine, then having your eight-year-old announce, “Oh.  I have to do my egg project before I go to school.”  (What egg project?!) I love Monday mornings. 

- All of my stress is carried in the same spot.  I wish there was a solution for that, it’d save a lot on co-pays.

- When do you admit that we’re not unique little snowflakes and when do you admit that you really can’t relate - even when you think you can?

- Oh, enchilada, this may sound cheesy, but I love how saucy you are.

- Sometimes I’m so damned proud of my son.  Sometimes I wonder if he’s ever gonna pull his crap together.

- I love people as much as I hate them.  I hate loving them.  I love hating them.  It’s an awkward love affair that leaves me tired and confused.

- Sometimes words just come out in response without any thought and most times those words mean nothing or are outright lies.  It bothers me how pleasant those words sound and how easily accepted they are by other people.  I guess sweet, polite lies are more comfortable than gritty, painful truth.

- I guess vengeance is funnier when shared openly as stagnant plans that will never come to fruition, but damn.  It would have been funny. 

- Thanks for returning me back to warp drive, Jim.  Not bad for a doctor (who isn’t actually a doctor… ha.)

- I’m really proud of our pack.  Good people.  Good hearts.  Wish I could make things easier for them.

That’s good for now.  Issleepytime.

Sometimes it’s all about getting by.  Gracefully or no.