Girl Scout Cookies, anyone?

I LOVE Girl Scout cookies, don't you? Mmmmmmmm... Thin Mints are my number one all-time favorite, but I like all of the new cookies, too. Ooooooooh, especially the "Thank You" chocolate covered biscuit cookies. Wow, those are yummy! About the only thing I don't like about GS cookies is the door-to-door selling. But, since they effectively did away with that - and with very good reason and guidelines for selling elsewhere - I can't wait until it's Cookie Time Again!

But, since it's no where near Cookie Time, why am I even thinking about GS Cookies, right?

I'll tell you why...

Because door-to-door selling is STILL alive...and not doing so well. Take today, for example:

"DING DONG... DING DONG!" Um, is that the doorbell??? Hmmm... I don't hear that sound too often - I don't <gasp> shop online and no one I know would dream of just popping in. Wow, must not be the Man in Brown because he simply rings once and jogs back to his UPS truck so quickly that I rarely even get to say hello! Oh, well, too bad - he's missing out on homemade cookies and bottled water that way!

So, I jog out to the door (why not, the UPS guy does it, but I'm much slower apparently) and cheerily open the door to... a young girl around 14 or 15, alone, dressed in sloppy shorts and a messy t-shirt - clutching an order form:

Swaying back and forth while clutching a crumpled form, she mumbles, "Um, hi. I'm a ( name of school not given to protect the identity of the school which I thought about contacting after this conversation ) HS cheerleader. You can buy xxxx for $10 or you can buy XXX for $18. What do you want?" Eye contact is never made with me, but she does glance ever-so-fleetingly at my child who is trying her best to say hello to the unresponsive girl on the step.

Yes, that was it! No introduction, no bouncy, cheery cheerleader-worthy "Hi, my name is Beth and I live in your neighborhood. I'm a high school cheerleader with _____ and I'm trying to raise money for _____." No details on what the fundraising was benefiting, no cheerleading outfit to identify her as an actual cheerleader, no pleasantries whatsoever.

She should not have been surprised that I politely said "no thank you". But, I think she was. She actually just mumbled, "Oh ok." as she swayed and disappeared onto the next house.

WHO IS TEACHING these young people how to canvas their own neighborhoods????? What adult is following this young child as she goes door-to-door with her sad and ill-conceived plea for funds? What happened to COACHING for a sale, not just the game winning point?

Door to door selling is about more than just which team member brings in the most money (usually from family and friends who feel sorry for your child because the door-to-door campaign was a bust - gee, I wonder why!).

It's about teaching our children the value of character, charm, charisma and caring. It's about teaching our children that above all, a pleasant introduction goes a long way towards building a RELATIONSHIP.

"Ding dong! Hi, my name is Emaleth. What's your name?"

WANTED: Middle Aged Dumpy Wife, no prior cleaning experience required

The other day, my otherwise wonderful husband of five years read me an article about how the U.S. population is amongst the heaviest in the world. No surprise there, we are each surrounded by so many McD’s, Chick-Fil-A’s, BK’s and Sonics to make one big indoor kid’s Playland. In fact, yesterday’s news listed the 10 top fat cities, with 8 of those being located in the Southeast U.S. I, however, do not live in any of those beautiful, fat states.

One statement in particular, really caught my attention – something about “the typical middle aged dumpy American women”. As my husband read this section aloud to me, while I was diligently washing the breakfast dishes as he lounged, as usual, reading the Sunday paper, I balked at the meanness of this very same comment. I turned to him and said, “Wow, that’s horrible! Do you know how those middle-aged women will feel when they read this article?” To that, he raised one eyebrow at me and said, “OK, how?”

WHAT!? Um, what did you just say … OUT LOUD?

Yes, I know. I should have thrown the soapy-wet Caphalon skillet at his head with discus throwing precision. But, alas, I am apparently NOT the beautiful, lovely, THIN AND YOUNG Leryn Franco from Paraguay. (Don’t worry, Leryn, we still love you and your photograph will still grace my “Wanna Be” wall for many years to come, because apparently I am middle-aged and dumpy, and, therefore, not worthy of emulating your beauty any time soon.)

I had a baby four years ago. No, that’s not my excuse! (Well, yes it is, but I love my child more than anything in this world and have apparently given my butt, thighs and belly for her! I am Pear-Shaped, therefore, I am.) I gained the minimum amount of weight during the pregnancy, but I gave myself an edge by starting with 20 lbs. already. :-D So, when I lost the baby weight almost immediately afterwards (breastfeeding really does do wonders!), I was not thrilled to say I was still 20 lbs. past my personal goal weight. Haha Although I stopped breastfeeding when my child was almost 15 months, my new eating habits for two were already well-established. My weight, now not balanced by the breastfeeding effort, slowly ballooned. Today, I could probably feed a small Olympic nation, if only the added weight were breastmilk instead of strategically-placed fat cells just waiting to multiply.

One morning, not too long after my last birthday, I looked at a stranger in the mirror: A woman with her hair pulled back in a pony-tail, grey-roots showing, pushing 40 lbs over goal weight, wearing a shapeless, non-descript crew-neck t-shirt (nice, ample cleavage not showing whatsoever, thank you very much), WalMart shorts, mismatched bra/panties underneath.

Where did *I* go?

And, who IS this dumpy, overweight middle-aged woman in my mirror?

Oh, and did I mention I hate to clean?

Me, a Soccer Mom? EEK!

<sigh> I have become … a soccer mom. Now, please don’t be offended if you are, in fact, a soccer mom, too. But… I swore to myself that I personally would never become one. I love my soccer-playing preschool daughter more than life itself: she’s the epitome of cute and adorable, loving and fun. She talks from morning until night… um, kind of like her mom. :-D Being a mom is the most fascinating, wonderful, and fulfilling experience I have ever had – far better than I ever imagined, too. And, I had plenty of time to imagine being a mom... yet, I never once imagined being or wanted to be a soccer mom.

Let me explain… I’ve watched fascinated as some of my female friends from long ago (HS maybe?) have gone from svelte, fun-loving, high-heeled-wearin’, Madonna-dancin’ chicks with French-manicured nails to: drive-through fries chompin’, minivan-drivin’, Longaberger-party-hosting, Vera Bradley quilt-y purse carryin’, Curves-lovin’ women who are on any given day trying to lose 50 lbs., find their minivan keys, coordinate a playdate with the soccer team or the Girl Scout troop, rekindle the romance they once had with their now-greying/balding husband of xx years, and did I say lose 50 lbs.? :)

Don't get me wrong... not all of my BFF's fall into my vision of Soccer Mom! And, I LOVE Vera Bradley bags... they remind me of beautiful scrapbook pages and I love scrapbooking... I have a membership to a local Bally's, but am part of the statistic of non-attending members. Oh, and Longaberger baskets... yes, I have a few - expensive, but well worth the price for the craftsmanship!

I never wanted to gain the 50 lbs. apparently necessary to become a soccer mom. But, then … I did. Unwittingly, I gained entry into the Soccer Mom Hall of Fame, sans the requisite minivan. I resolutely refuse to trade in my 4-door automobile for any type of minivan; I don’t care how much more Stuff I can tote in a minivan or how nifty the rear seats are. No way. Not even with a built-in GPS system and a DVD/Playstation combo. I resolutely draw the line at The Minivan. ;-)

Then again, the day I registered my child to actually play soccer, I met the *new and improved* Soccer Mom - she was 20 years younger than I, and a beautiful, svelte, high-heeled wearing (and ON the soccer field - imagine that!) chick who looked like she might not even know who Madonna is, much less listen to her music (from the "oldies").

Maybe I *should* break out the Bally's card and become the New and Improved Soccer Mom! "Honey... let's go to the car dealership and check out those new minivans, shall we?"