Last week Meredith came home from school with a note that said something like “Scouting Registration Night! Wednesday! 6:00!”
I talked to Meredith for a bit, and she expressed an interest in scouting. So, I called the school.
Apparently, Scouting Registration Night is for Boy Scouts only. The administrative assistant at the school told me that registration night doesn’t exist for the Girl Scouts and that she doesn’t have any additional information about Girl Scouts.
I should have let it die right there. BUT, because I’m nothing if not tenacious, I called the Girl Scouts of America to try to track down a local leader.
The Girl Scouts of America told me to call the Girl Scouts of Greater St. Louis (GS-GSL) for leader contact information. Okay! Now we’re sort of getting somewhere maybe.
I eventually reached Cindy from GS-GSL. After babbling on about how old Meredith is and what school she attends, Cindy said the following.
Cindy: Okay. Your troop coordinator is Bonnie. I will call her and give her your information. If she doesn’t call you within two days, call her and leave a message. If she doesn’t return your call, call me back.
Me: Well, that’s sort of weird, but okay.
I waited two days. No call from Bonnie. I then called Bonnie, left a message, and waited two days. She never called back.
Cindy: Okay. Since Bonnie didn’t call you, I’d like you to call Victoria. If she doesn’t call you back, I’ll ask you to call Sheila, who is here at the GS-GSL.
I called Victoria. She didn’t answer the phone. Within two minutes of me hanging up, my phone rang.
Victoria: This is Victoria. You called me?
I told her the whole story, and she told me that she would call me back. And she did. Five minutes later.
Victoria: I’m going to ask you to call Bonnie.
Me: I called Bonnie. Cindy at the GS-GSL called Bonnie. Bonnie doesn’t return calls.
Victoria: Well, Bonnie is definitely the person you need to contact. Do me a favor and leave Bonnie another message. Dawn and I will see Bonnie on Thursday, and I’ll let her know that she should return your call. Then, Dawn will call you on Friday.
(I have no idea who Dawn is.)
I *do* know that I’m no longer excited about Meredith being a Girl Scout.
And I’m wondering why everyone seems to walk on eggshells around Bonnie.
Why should Victoria have to tell Bonnie that it’s okay to return my call about Girl Scouts when Bonnie’s job is to return calls about Girl Scouts?!
I know you hate me for saying this: I’m done with these women. And if they were men, I would say that I’m done with these men.
Do you want to know who else I’m done with? (I recently read that it’s okay to end a sentence with a preposition, especially if moving the preposition would introduce awkwardness.) I’m done with the Tuesday night ballet/tap moms. (I’ll talk about them some other time. Or maybe I won’t. Are you bored by stories of moms who sit around bashing other moms because of their socioeconomic status? Yeah, me too. And although life is too short to sit in a room full o’ ugly, Meredith really loves to dance. So, tonight I shall wear my Don’t Talk to Me clothes and try to look as invisible as possible while the Mean Moms torch another friend who lives on the outskirts of Easy Street.)
And this is what I really wanted to tell you: Harper’s been throwing really amazing tantrums lately. They’re completely unpredictable, and they involve kicking, hitting, throwing things, and screaming. Oh! The screaming! This morning’s tantrum hit right after I turned off the shower water. Apparently, she wanted to watch me take a shower and “I WANTED TO WATCH YOU TAKE A SHOWER!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!” And she threw her cereal and Jeff carried her (kicking and screaming) to sit in The Thinking Chair, which is sort of our clever version of Time Out, and gheez. The tantrum never ended. They never end! They’ve been going on for over six months and are getting worse instead of better and the doctor thought it was reflux, but it ended up not being reflux, and gheez.