This week I am on vacation. Actually I should say that this week I requested vacation from work. However, I’m sitting at the dining room table working (okay and blogging) because I have a book that needs to go to the printer. Dedicated? Maybe, but more like I don’t want to be the one to f it up, know what I mean?

I took this week off because I decided to send Gabe to Vacation Bible School (VBS for those in the know) to break up the summer and give him something to do other than complain about getting up to go to the sitter’s house. And I thought that I could get a lot done around the house with the kids gone and me “on vacation.” It kind of occurred to me on the way to VBS that Gabe doesn’t even know what the Bible is. He probably thinks it’s someone’s last name, like Vacation Smith School. And that’s not to say I’m a BAD Catholic. I’m just a lapsed Catholic. We go to church sometimes and sometimes we don’t go. So my hope is that he comes away from this knowing what the Bible is. And if not, then maybe he’ll just shoot his neighbor and push his sister a little less in the coming weeks.

Oh and also I decided to volunteer to help out with VBS for ONE morning. When you sign the kids up, there is a form that asks if you want to help out. Then you get to check boxes regarding whether or not you’d like to work with the kids and if you do, you have to have taken the child protection seminar and get fingerprinted. So, I said I’d help out but I DID NOT want to take the seminar or get fingerprinted. I thought I could buy some Goldfish or make a t-shirt or something.

So I get an email, would I like to be a snack coordinator? Sure, what’s that entail, handing out said Goldfish and cleaning up spilled juice for 30 minutes? No problem. Then I get an email back, well I see you haven’t taken the child protection seminar so you’ll have to do that. What? Didn’t I say that I DID NOT want to work with the kids so that I didn’t have to take the seminar? But I didn’t want to argue with the VBS ruler. It’s engrained deep down in the guilt-riddled Catholic section of my amygdala that to be contrary to or argue with someone doing the work of God, I might be smoten or something. Smote? Smited? So I agreed.

The child protection seminar, it turns out, was just me and this really little man with teeny, tiny hands (why is that important? it’s not, I just notice these things and then that’s all I can concentrate on) talking about child abuse for an hour and a half. Not uncomfortable at all. Then I got to watch a VHS tape about the church’s stance on child abuse from 1982. It was thrilling. The teeny-tiny hands man left the room at one point and I started to doodle on my handouts. But then he came back in and I thought maybe I would be double smoted so I forced myself to watch Sister Teresa Loredo of the Valley of Nuns of the Second Order of the Pentecost drone on and on about something.

So basically what I got out of it was to not beat the children while you hand them their juice boxes and Dixie cups full of trail mix. I think I can handle that.

I also had to attend another meeting to decide what snacks to have each day. Definitely a think tank operation. THEN last Friday I thought I’d email the coordinator back to see if everything was under control and I got a reply back asking could I buy 1,000 two-liters and 700 boxes of Chex cereal, and all the knock-off Goldfish whale crackers that Meijer had? Apparently the “shopper” for VBS snacks felt overwhelmed by the amount of food she had to go get all  by her little lonesome. So I had to say “yes” for fear of smitterdom.

The silver lining though is that they said I didn’t have to pay $30 to get fingerprinted just this one time! Thanks! Which just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished, right?

(I hope this was somewhat entertaining Ronya!)