Just got back yesterday afternoon from being the primary person in charge at a small weekend retreat for youths. Lots of fun, but I don't think the tension left my back and neck until we got back and safely delivered those sleepy, yawning children to their parents. Such a feeling of responsibility! I think my heart leapt into my throat every time I saw one of them start to injure herself by carelessly walking into a hole, climbing the ceiling-high cabinets in the cabin, or darting into some other hazard just out of my reach. No serious injuries, but not for lack of trying. And based on the weekend's usage of my boombox, I may never, ever, ever get either the Macarena or the Chicken Dance song out of my head now.
I finally got home to put down my first-aid kit, my snake-bite kit, my activities checklist, my whistle and compass, hand sanitizer, and tissues. (Try nature walks in 29-degree weather with 8 sniffly but exuberant kids; you'll bless the gods and goddesses who created Puffs, longjohns, and whistles.) My backpack for the nature activities and safety items needed on the walk added up to 15-20 pounds, added to my own gravitational pull.
I've got a surprisingly small bag of lost-and-found items leftover from our excursions, and all the parents coughed up their $40 contributions on time. I don't think it could have gone smoother. Except, of course, for the exceptionally hilly terrain for our nature walk, the thick coating of slipper leaves on every surface, and the fact that I am now CERTAIN I need to lose weight ASAP.
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