When I first was going to conventions and was single and living on my own and had lots of new JW friends, I used to like to go before the conventions and help with the prep work (when they were still cooking for folks, making salads, mashed potatoes, hoagies, etc....) and loved to be involved with the process, even when it meant cleaning horse sh__ off of the seats and cleaning disgusting mens bathrooms at a racetrack. I cooked, I cleaned, I steamed my clothes and makeup and hair from washing trays, I washed tables, swept, vacuumed, did sign language translating...and I had a good time. I realize now 22 years later that I enjoyed doing all that because it meant NOT SITTING IN THE CONVENTION AND LISTENING TO THE DRIVEL THEY WERE FEEDING US. Busy meant freedom...and I understand now why the brothers volunteered to wheel the garbage out after lunch...they didnt have to sit there and they could be seen attending the convention without the torture.
When I was pregnant with my first child and had to SIT for THREE DAYS in that damn race track with air conditioning that worked SOMETIMES with my ankles swelling so bad I couldnt walk, I began to hate it. When the baby was born and I had to lug all the baby stuff, and bookbags and then started to have to bring our own food, with a husband that left to go do other things all day and left me to take care of the baby alllll day....and having to put my baby down on the concrete on his blanket to nap in the heat, and having to nurse in a crowded smelly MENS bathroom on an armless chair until my back ACHED....I was already looking for the door.
By the time I had my third child in 95 and was juggling a newborn, a 4 year old and a six year old basically ALONE for 8 hours a day...not including prep time and long bathroom lines, and bossy brothers telling me what to do...I was DONE DONE DONE.
Stick a fork in me....Im done. Never went back.
