I have a love/hate relationship with the Boy Scouts of America. And it isn't just that I love to hate them. Though there's that . . .
I HATE the frequent disorganization. The lost forms, the forgotten merit badges, the kids running around like maniacs during a completely unstructured "class," the time after time after time of finding out about a major event after the fact (or hours before) and the general reek of testosterone. I also loathe some of the . . . erm . . . "politics" I'll say. (There! Did you see that restraint?! I didn't once use the word "homophobic.") (Well . . until then.)
Then I look at the oldest boychild of mine who is actually in scouts. And Scout LOVES scouts and everything about the program. He's a kid motivated by awards and recognition, and he's all about being a uniformed little nobleman doing good to all mankind. I think that's how it goes. He's my little computer geek Legoman homebody and couldn't possibly be less outdoorsy - and yet he enthusiastically dives right into camping and all of the physical demands placed upon him. So I do love this motivation and opportunity for him to get outside and enjoy God's bug-infested green earth by assisting aged chipmunks, or whatever the heck they do.
There's the tiny detail, however, that the Boy Scouts of America is led primarily by overgrown BOYS. And men/boys don't COMMUNICATE. Ever. I was dubbed "The Crazy Scout Lady" due to my frequent rants in the church lobby just about every Wednesday night. If you can rant in the church lobby, you can pretty much rant anywhere. Nothing is sacred to me. You have been warned.
So I finally stopped ranting and whining (mostly) and took it upon myself to communicate for them. Forgetting that in order to that, I would have to communicate with them. ::shuddershuddertwitch:: Somebody had to do it. And it was going pretty well there for a while. Mostly because I stalked the scoutmaster and annoyed him mercilessly until he finally threw a calendar at me and begged me to leave him alone. (Well he wanted to - I could tell.) I then flooded the emails of every scout parent with dates and details of upcoming events . . . and then flooded them again . . . and again as I received corrections and updates on the information given . . . again and again.
As imperfect as that was, I was thanked by many. The problem is that I forget. I forget a LOT. And when I forget, I flake out. So how many events did we miss out on this month already? Yeah . . not good. And how many other scouts missed out because I didn't remind their mothers? I feel shame. I say "mothers" because let's face it - for every Eagle Scout, there's a woman who acted as his personal secretary. I just don't see how it could happen, otherwise.
Now - time to get back on track and get the reminders out to the other poor mothers who are even partially as clueless and forgetful as I am.
And time to remember that when you claw your way through the BS of BSA - you see that it's truly about making better little men who make the world just a little bit nicer . . one chipmunk at a time.