after the meeting

After the meeting, I feel like my head will explode.

 

The change is not quite sudden, but it is dramatic. During the meeting, I'm all energy. I'm cracking jokes, engaging a small troop of Daisy Scouts, riffing off what they say, reminding them to take care of their Daisy badges and not treat them like cheap costume jewelry, and bearing their disruptive silliness with good grace. I'm in my zone and feeling heat. It's a good, euphoric place to be.

 

The meeting ends at 5:15 p.m. The last Scout not directly related to the troop leaders has gone, and now we're bustling our own children to the cars and getting ready to go. We're off to the supermarket. It's time for a quick jaunt through the aisles to get what we need for dinner, preferably ready made and healthy. Corn on the cob. Roast chicken. For tomorrow, a yellow squash, zucchini and some pasta.

 

By the time we get home, the girls' chatter has gone from entertaining to grating, but they haven't changed. My skin crawls at their antics, and my spirit groans at the attitude I see myself harboring. I manage -- barely -- to avoid telling them to watch a video while I get dinner ready, but I still get snippy and surly with them over their attempts to be funny, to ask me questions, to be involved.

 

What happened to the wild and crazy Scout leader who was there an hour ago? Is there something wrong with the stuff I've been eating lately? There has been an awful lot of sugar, is that throwing off my moods? Am I facing depression? Am I tired? Stressed? Pressured?

 

It isn't right. The girls deserve better than this.