FINALLY - and STOP ME before I volunteer again!
Listen, I don't have a lot of time to write this, but I'll do the best I can. See, I signed up to bring cookies tomorrow for Audrey’s playgroup, it's 10:45pm and they aren’t even in the oven yet. Of course, I could just stop at the store to pick some up -- I need to get the coffee for the board meting tomorrow anyway -- but that would take me out of my way since I really need to drop off the canned goods we collected for the food pantry at Lilli’s school last week.
Speaking of Lilli’s class, I have to think up a craft for the Halloween party (or “fall festival”). It can't cost anything, of course -- anyone know of something cute 15 squirmy kids can make out of empty Starbucks cups and toilet paper rolls?
Or, maybe I could just sit still and face facts. My name is Tyla, and I have a volunteering problem. Did I say "problem"? Let's call it what it really is -- a disease. "Chronic Volunteerism" ("Hello Tyla")
I'm only one of a legion of women who haven't seen the tops of their dining room tables in years, and we need help. From coast to coast, we're fundraising, baking, driving, teaching, making phone calls… all because we suffer from a mental disorder characterized by the firm, albeit delusional, belief that "If I don't do it, nobody else will, and I could never live with myself if little children actually died of disappointment as a result."
Of course, Chronic Volunteerism hasn't been recognized by the medical community yet, and God knows the HMOs will squawk, but I believe we may be dealing with an epidemic. While we're all waiting for treatment, I suppose we could form support groups.
Tired women could gather in church basements on folding chairs, drinking in both bad coffee and lectures with titles such as "Lying Like a Rug -- When Just Saying No Doesn't Cut It," or "Know Your Enemy -- The Advantages of Caller ID." Over in another corner, an exercise class could feature a sort of yoga for CV -- "Sitting on Your Hands While Biting Your Tongue."
The problem is, starting a support group for Chronic Volunteer sufferers would be like serving vodka gimlets at an AA meeting. Gather these women in a room, and before you could say "sign-up sheet" they'd divide up into committees for refreshments, decorations and a raffle. "Self"-help is outside our frame of reference.
Men do not run themselves ragged doing this kind of stuff. They make lofty pronouncements about their time being far too valuable. But there doesn't seem to be any limit to what women will do to raise a few bucks for anything they think benefits their kids or communities.
Some of us have tried a geographic cure -- moving to another area and pretending that we're above giving even 30 seconds of our time to a cause of any kind. But it's no use. We might as well have a big "V" tattooed in the middle of our foreheads. No shark detects chum in the water as fast as someone sniffing out a potential volunteer!
It doesn't do any good to look to our friends and families for sympathy. Our husbands have given up; we're gone so much our own children don't always recognize us, and our friend’s think we're just plain nuts!
Harold asked if I planned to get a job once Audrey started preschool…I of course told him no, I actually like all my FREE time and it may cut into my martinis and manicures with the gals!
I'll try to post some photos tomorrow to catch you up on the last month....hmmmm between driving Ben's friends to homecoming (and wherever!), hosting a waiting families dinner, board meetings for GMAC and FCC, Chinese Autumn Moon Festival, Room Mom for Lilli, leader of Audrey's playgroup...etc....etc...etc... I've had a crazy month! So, pardon my absence, I have not forgotten you, just working on my illness! (Donations are welcome! :)
Much Love,
T
Speaking of Lilli’s class, I have to think up a craft for the Halloween party (or “fall festival”). It can't cost anything, of course -- anyone know of something cute 15 squirmy kids can make out of empty Starbucks cups and toilet paper rolls?
Or, maybe I could just sit still and face facts. My name is Tyla, and I have a volunteering problem. Did I say "problem"? Let's call it what it really is -- a disease. "Chronic Volunteerism" ("Hello Tyla")
I'm only one of a legion of women who haven't seen the tops of their dining room tables in years, and we need help. From coast to coast, we're fundraising, baking, driving, teaching, making phone calls… all because we suffer from a mental disorder characterized by the firm, albeit delusional, belief that "If I don't do it, nobody else will, and I could never live with myself if little children actually died of disappointment as a result."
Of course, Chronic Volunteerism hasn't been recognized by the medical community yet, and God knows the HMOs will squawk, but I believe we may be dealing with an epidemic. While we're all waiting for treatment, I suppose we could form support groups.
Tired women could gather in church basements on folding chairs, drinking in both bad coffee and lectures with titles such as "Lying Like a Rug -- When Just Saying No Doesn't Cut It," or "Know Your Enemy -- The Advantages of Caller ID." Over in another corner, an exercise class could feature a sort of yoga for CV -- "Sitting on Your Hands While Biting Your Tongue."
The problem is, starting a support group for Chronic Volunteer sufferers would be like serving vodka gimlets at an AA meeting. Gather these women in a room, and before you could say "sign-up sheet" they'd divide up into committees for refreshments, decorations and a raffle. "Self"-help is outside our frame of reference.
Men do not run themselves ragged doing this kind of stuff. They make lofty pronouncements about their time being far too valuable. But there doesn't seem to be any limit to what women will do to raise a few bucks for anything they think benefits their kids or communities.
Some of us have tried a geographic cure -- moving to another area and pretending that we're above giving even 30 seconds of our time to a cause of any kind. But it's no use. We might as well have a big "V" tattooed in the middle of our foreheads. No shark detects chum in the water as fast as someone sniffing out a potential volunteer!
It doesn't do any good to look to our friends and families for sympathy. Our husbands have given up; we're gone so much our own children don't always recognize us, and our friend’s think we're just plain nuts!
Harold asked if I planned to get a job once Audrey started preschool…I of course told him no, I actually like all my FREE time and it may cut into my martinis and manicures with the gals!
I'll try to post some photos tomorrow to catch you up on the last month....hmmmm between driving Ben's friends to homecoming (and wherever!), hosting a waiting families dinner, board meetings for GMAC and FCC, Chinese Autumn Moon Festival, Room Mom for Lilli, leader of Audrey's playgroup...etc....etc...etc... I've had a crazy month! So, pardon my absence, I have not forgotten you, just working on my illness! (Donations are welcome! :)
Much Love,
T
posted by Tyla at 8:42 PM
1 Comments:
Well its late and I can't think of much, but what about them making the "tootsie-pop ghosts" like we used to make. You tie a white napkin over the top and tie with yarn, then make it's face with markers. They would love this.
I haven't come up with any craft for Starbucks cups but you can cover the toilet paper rolls with tin foil and make angels. Remember. These also can be covered and make covers for coiled up electrical cords.
Now we know why you don't return your phone calls.
I remeber thoses days FONDLY.
Remember, these too will pass.
Love to you all,
Mom & Dad
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