Volunteering (kicking and screaming)

About ten years ago, my entire immediate family (parents, siblings and their spouses and kids) vacationed in California. There were 13 of us all together. One of the stops, of course, was Disneyland. My nieces and nephews were ages 3 through 13 years old at the time. It was a great trip, but by the end of the two weeks, I think we were all ready to come home...to our separate homes. There definitely is such a thing as too much family togetherness. We all had about reached our limits (some of us exceeded our limits, but not in any irreparable way, as we all still choose to be in each other's presence).

Anyway, I bring this up because at the time, my sister's youngest boy was 8. She wanted to take him on the Matterhorn (a roller coaster-ish ride), which looked pretty scary to his 8 year old eyes. She told him, "you'll have fun...you'll like it." To which he replied, "Noooooooo, Mommy, pleeeeaaaassseee! Don't make me gooooooo!" as he cried and tried to dig his little sneakered feet in while my sister was dragging him by his arm to stand in line.

At this point we were attracting some attention from the other visitors to the "happiest place on earth" (aka the most heavily sugared place on earth). Back then, I cared more about what people thought than I do now and was noticing them noticing our little scene. But more importantly, I seriously thought she was going to psychologically scar this poor kid for life. He really seemed freaked out about it all.

I ask my sister if she really thinks it is worth it to drag him on this ride when it will probably result in a huge expense for her down the road when she has to pay for his therapy bills. She seems blithely unconcerned and continues dragging her son (who is literally crying and begging as only an 8 year old in full dramatic mode can) to stand in line for the Matterhorn. I make another attempt upon my poor nephew's behalf and my sister throws over her shoulder, "Don't worry. He'll love it once he tries it."

Skeptical, I stand in line with them (my nephew has been reduced to whimpering at this point, since he realized volume was not getting him anywhere, so he, as most children, quickly learned to cut his losses and try another tact). I forgot who I sat next to (probably not my brother, since he complains my screaming makes him lose his upper decibel hearing), but my sister sat next to my nephew. I hear them screaming and laughing through the ride. Once we get to the end, my nephew (whom I have been championing), looks at my sister and says, "Mommy! Can we go again?" My sister give me that vastly smug, superior look that only an older sister can give her younger sister and says, "See?"

Now why did I share this slightly entertaining yet seemingly meaningless anecdote? Because this week I had my volunteer work and I did not want to go. It is only a couple of hours each month and I often find myself hunting for excuses not to go. I am performing the same acts my nephew did, but just in my own mind.

And I don't know why. Because once I get there, I am totally into it, have a great time and at the end am glad that I went. I know this from prior experience. Yet for some bizarre reason, each month when I am scheduled to be there, I feel an illness coming on / am extremely tired / need to stay late at the office / am supposed to meet a friend / etc.

I recently had a conversation with a co-worker who volunteers once a week to help adults learn to read. She said she has the same problem. She has to drag herself to the session, but once she is there, it is a great experience and she is glad she did it. Plus, she has a great relationship with the person she tutors.

At least my nephew had a good excuse. He did not know how much fun he was going to have on the Matterhorn. A few hours each month to help out a worthy program is very little. Why am I so reluctant when I probably get more out of being there and interacting with the kids than they do? Perhaps the obvious answer is that I am selfish. But is it that simple? Perhaps it is.