Being a Cub Scout mom is multi-faceted. Cub Scouts was designed to help boys and their fathers connect in a space that held common interests for them. In our den there are more moms than dads and I wonder when it switched. I have a good idea why. Today’s world doesn’t revolve on the nine to five workday that it used to. People work varied shifts, heading to work during the evening when the meetings are. Men, as the time honored providers, end up working when and where they can. This doesn’t always give them the time to spend with their children. So the moms step in. One more duty we take on in a society that still seems to believe we can be June Cleaver and the high powered executive at the same time.
Last week was Resident camp. It means the boys stay overnight in tents. They spend 3 days and 3 nights there.
I went during the day.
They tried to talk me into staying, but I am not a camper. Growing older I am strong enough to stand by my decisions and not bow to peer pressure, so I went home every night, showing back up in the morning for breakfast. The first day we arrived and saw the campsite, I knew I made the right decision. Wooden platforms with canvas tents and two cots inside. A fire pit in the middle of camp and an outhouse-type set up with sawdust for a bathroom. We did have picnic tables and a canopy over them, which came in handy when it drizzled the second day.
If you have never been to camp, you need to understand that they are designed to create camaraderie and fellowship among the campers. To enter the dining hall, the campers stood outside the doors and chanted one of the counselors names. At the top of their lungs. Along with all the other packs that were there. It was an impressive cacophony of sound.
There was grace before each meal, posted on the wall for those who weren’t familiar with the prayer, and spoken in cadence. You eat family style with designated “waiters”, who set the table and refill platters as needed. At the end of meals everyone stands and sings a song. The songs require movement and sometimes are silly, other times remind you of songs you learned as kids. Announcements were given and we were dismissed.
The second day it thundered and rained in the afternoon. It threw a damper (pun intended) on the swimming and ended all thoughts of fire-building lessons. We retired to the campsite to play Uno and Euchre. I am not sure who was louder, the kids or adults, but there was equal laughter on all sides.
I left my camera unguarded. The den leader grabbed it and this is what happened.
I got her back.
The pirates were supposed to be practicing their skit. The skit involved a brief sword battle where all but one dies. They were taking a bit to long to die and whacking a mite to hard with the swords. Apparently the only way to restrain a pirate is to become one. Speak their language. Wave a sword at them. And have one of the other adults snap a photo to preserve the moment forever.
Camp was fun. And my pirate had a spectacular time. Which is what really counts for a Cub Scout mom.