I often wonder if I would have done this differently or if I had done that differently that things may be different right now. Oh what a terrible thing to think! It creates this weight that lies on the shoulders and it can be crippling. I will be crippled soon.
As my son begins his journey as a Boy Scout, I am witnessing the way they operate. Everything running smoothly. More parent volunteers you can shake a stick at. Excitement galore!
And this has left me questioning my own abilities running Cub Scouts. Whenever my husband comes home filled with excitement over boy scouts, I wonder if there was something I could have done to make cub scouts better.
Did I spend enough time planning? Should I have been more demanding and bitchy toward the parents to get them more motivated to help out so I wouldn't have had to do most of it on my own? Should I have just quit at the very beginning and never gotten involved at all?
I am not so sure, but what I am sure of is that I have been having moments of where I feel that maybe I have let the cub scouts down. Maybe our membership numbers would not be down if I would have devoted even more time to developing the program. I am not so sure how it would've been possible to devote more time than I had, but the thought is there. I'm not so sure.
I enjoy watching my son participate in boy scouts. He makes a darn good one! But at each meeting I attend, I am reminded of my utter failure in cub scouts. I see the cub parents getting so excited over scouts. They do whatever is asked of them, and seemingly go above and beyond. This confuses me.
I am envious of the enthusiasm over boy scouts. I am envious over the fact that they make it work, and I couldn't do it at the cub level. I wish I would have been able to find a way to make parents excited to be a part of cubs. I wish I could have had that same level of helpfulness from them.
I had that with a parent, but eventually, he seemingly grew tired of it and stopped answering my inquiries for guidance and help. I wish that I had that same level of enthusiasm in my own husband who played the role of cubmaster. I didn't have it though.
I find myself getting angry over that enthusiasm. I have wanted to shake my husband and say, "Why the hell couldn't you have been this excited over cubs?!!"
I had that with a parent, but eventually, he seemingly grew tired of it and stopped answering my inquiries for guidance and help. I wish that I had that same level of enthusiasm in my own husband who played the role of cubmaster. I didn't have it though.
I find myself getting angry over that enthusiasm. I have wanted to shake my husband and say, "Why the hell couldn't you have been this excited over cubs?!!"
The cub scout slogan is "do your best". I thought I had, but after seeing boy scouts, I'm not so sure.
I had gone through so much bitterness, arguments and pure hatred over the past four years. Old committee members and I butted heads in a horrific way. I stuck around as they bashed me. I fought back when I was called all sorts of names. I held strong when they tried to break me. I held strong.
But for what... ?
I see these people at boy scout meetings. They will stop and make small talk with my husband while not even glancing in my direction. My greetings are met with pure silence and hatred. I acknowledge them without scorn or dislike. We are all, supposedly, adults. But ....
Scouts had a profound affect on my life. It isn't an affect that was all good, either.
I worked really hard, or I thought so at the time. I never looked for that pat on the back or a reward. It's not why I did it. But in the same breath, my husband gets all the credit. Everyone thought my husband did all the planning, the form filling, the phone calls to council, the emailing and the scheduling. He didn't do any of it. Everyone is always ready to pat him on the back.
.. pat on the back..
Oh it burns me. It hurts me. It angers me. It makes me want to cry in pure frustration. It makes me want to stand on a mountaintop and scream, "I DID THIS!!"
But it would undermine the things I had done. It would cheapen my efforts and give it a light that would dictate that I did it for the "glory".
After reading all of this back, it seems that scouts left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. I am sitting here making a "lemon sucking" face as I replay it all in my head.
Maybe I could have done it better, but most likely I couldn't have.
It sure as hell taught me many lessons, but I feel like I am left with nothing more than scars. Scars that represent all the hours I dedicated -- hours that should have been spent with my family. Scars that stand for all the arguments my husband and I had gotten into over his lack of participation and help. Scars that stand for the friends that I made, but have turned into acquaintances. Scars borne from the hurt of the changing of those friendships. Scars that represent the beatings I took and the beatings I continue to take from previous members.
But Joe sent me thank you cards and told me stories about aliens. Frankie hand wrote me a card and hugged me. Ethan entertained me with his infectious sense of humor. They still look at me during their boy scout meetings with this look of .. I hope I am doing this right.. I look at them and remember them when I first met them. I remember their stories, their laughter and their willingness to succeed. I look at them and find that I am extremely proud of their progress.
I suppose it was all worth it, if for nothing more than the above paragraph.
Perhaps I need to stop attending boy scout meetings.
Perhaps I do..
Perhaps..
Scouts had a profound affect on my life. It isn't an affect that was all good, either.
I worked really hard, or I thought so at the time. I never looked for that pat on the back or a reward. It's not why I did it. But in the same breath, my husband gets all the credit. Everyone thought my husband did all the planning, the form filling, the phone calls to council, the emailing and the scheduling. He didn't do any of it. Everyone is always ready to pat him on the back.
.. pat on the back..
Oh it burns me. It hurts me. It angers me. It makes me want to cry in pure frustration. It makes me want to stand on a mountaintop and scream, "I DID THIS!!"
But it would undermine the things I had done. It would cheapen my efforts and give it a light that would dictate that I did it for the "glory".
After reading all of this back, it seems that scouts left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. I am sitting here making a "lemon sucking" face as I replay it all in my head.
Maybe I could have done it better, but most likely I couldn't have.
It sure as hell taught me many lessons, but I feel like I am left with nothing more than scars. Scars that represent all the hours I dedicated -- hours that should have been spent with my family. Scars that stand for all the arguments my husband and I had gotten into over his lack of participation and help. Scars that stand for the friends that I made, but have turned into acquaintances. Scars borne from the hurt of the changing of those friendships. Scars that represent the beatings I took and the beatings I continue to take from previous members.
But Joe sent me thank you cards and told me stories about aliens. Frankie hand wrote me a card and hugged me. Ethan entertained me with his infectious sense of humor. They still look at me during their boy scout meetings with this look of .. I hope I am doing this right.. I look at them and remember them when I first met them. I remember their stories, their laughter and their willingness to succeed. I look at them and find that I am extremely proud of their progress.
I suppose it was all worth it, if for nothing more than the above paragraph.
Perhaps I need to stop attending boy scout meetings.
Perhaps I do..
Perhaps..
