My New Tan

I always wanted to have a cute couples calling with Jeff. So I guess you can say being called as joint cub masters is kind of my dream come true.

Except that I don't know the first thing about the scouting program, 8-year old boys or tan shirts.

My only memorable encounter with cub scouts is the one time my mom made me go to a pack meeting where they held my little brother upside down. And the only reason I remember that is because there's a picture of it.

Oh well, take away the awards, ceremonies and cheesy cheers and you're just left with a bunch of enthusiastic 8-year olds, right? That doesn't seem so bad. Until I realize my comfort range with children is limited to the ones that are 16-months old and younger. If Eli hasn't been there, I don't know how to deal with it. And whenever I try to think back on what I was like at that age, I'm reminded I have spent the majority of the last 15 years trying to recover from and forget that time of my life. Plus I've never been a boy.

And as far as the tan shirts go...

I just don't have a lot going for me with this calling. To say I'm overwhelmed by my once-a-month-thirty-minute calling would be an understatement.

Because I spend the week before pack meeting lying awake at night second guessing all my plans. I spend the night before pack meeting counting and recounting handouts, treats and napkins. I spend the hour before pack meeting pacing the whole house telling Eli to cooperate if he knows what's good for him. Then I spend pack meeting realizing it's not really that bad.

 (Chocolate covered pretzels I made to look like crayons for our back to school pack meeting. Big hit.)

The boys are cute and energetic. They are happy to be doing whatever girly activity I planned for them. Like, for instance, tonight's activity of making cookies. It would be a lot easier for me if cub scouts were girls. If only.

Jeff did a great job conducting the awards portion for the first time, and the boys managed to stay somewhat interested in my activity for them. It's nice to have another pack meeting under our beltloops, and I'm already stressing about the next one. This calling might just be the death of me.