I keep passing by a broken remote controlled helicopter in our living room.  It hasn’t worked for years.  Still, I’m struggling tossing it out. Part of me believes if I don’t get rid of it, I can slow down time.  I won’t have to face reality that seasons change-regardless of my resistance to accept it.
I recall a few weeks back, when my husband and walked away from the last high school sporting event of our oldest son. Watching our kids on the field has become fun-the camaraderie with other parents, watching our boys do their thing-all of it. And now… Thirty minutes earlier we were cheering and squealing from the stands. But at that moment, we walked purposely at a slow pace to the car. As if maybe the team would come back for an encore. Or perhaps, magically more time would be added to the scoreboard. 

My husband held my right hand as if he knew I needed to be comforted, but remained quiet. And then this feeling of second guessing came over me. “Did we do okay?” I asked him. “I mean with the kids-did we do enough?”  We literally went through a checklist as we walked around the field toward the parking lot.”We sent them to summer camp.” They came home sweaty and dirty-that has to count for something in the hearty category.”They traveled-they have been on a plane”  Check the well-rounded box.”They went camping in Wyoming” they can now be mountain men.”But…they never took music lessons,” I lamented. Oh no….Houston, we have a parental fail.”Yeah but they played sports, it was more their thing.” Never mind Houston-all good.They learned how to travel on a city bus.  They know how to fish. They took swim lessons.  They had all their shots, met with the dentist twice a year and had vision check ups. They’ve had like 14 years of French!!!!!!!
“Did we do enough?” The question kept lingering in my mind. Like where does that list start? Eating broccoli when I was pregnant? Or letting them pick out their own outfits when they were 5? Did they lie on the grass in the backyard and look at the clouds which looked like puffy versions of people, places and animals? Did they play ding dong ditch and kick the can? What about drinking from the garden hose, or making snow angels?

High school graduation is less than 24 hours away and I just hope I did enough. I cannot slow down time. And I have yet to find a way to add more to the clock. But as exhaustion sets in I realize that my job isn’t to “do enough.” My job is to make way for you to do what you need to do.

Here are some things I’ve been compiling in my head for a while.  I’m not even going to tell you this stuff is useful for you. No worries-make your own list.  Or don’t.

 

1. Never use Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in s’mores. The only time I disagree with integration. Too many competing flavors.  Try it if you must-you’ve been warned.

2. Arranged marriages seem like a bad idea-until you’re a mother of a teenaged boy.

3. Life is not fair. Not even close.

4. Thong underwear is not comfortable.  Disagree? Okay, stop by and I’ll give you mine.

5. Not all black people’s hair is the same. And please don’t touch it.

6. Not all white people like mayo. Like maybe 98% though.

7. Soccer cleats smell like sour milk and cat piss. Don’t believe me? Send me your address and I’ll send you a cleat.

8. A good life can quite possibly be measured by opportunities and relationships. Be open to both.

9. You do not need to do yoga to wear yoga pants.

10. If it’s really funny you’ll pee your pants.

11. People are comforted knowing they’re not alone in how they feel. Assure them they’re not. Go on…

12. Stick with friends who get you. I mean really get you.

13. Love what you do or who you do it for. If you can do both… you’ve struck gold.

14. My family is beyond amazing.  Just had to get past the teen years to see it.

15. It is never a bad time to tell someone you love them.

16. You will actually use math more than you said  you would in third grade.

17. The carpool line at school has its own set of rules. It is not governed by God, the government, or a neighborhood association. Get on board or get out of the line. It’s that simple.

18. As nice as it sounds not everyone is an artist. My mother was an artist. Trust me on this one.

19. Perfection is overrated, impossible, and too damn much work.

20. You’re not buying the cookies to support The Girl Scouts.  No, you’re buying the cookies because you have an addiction to crunchy, sugary snacks -and they happen to sell some of the best ones.

21. TV dinners were the shit.

22. One size fits all is genius.

23. “I’ll give you something to cry about”. Wait. What?? I was already crying.

24. Warmth has no fashion (borrowed from a friend). Your leggings (as cute as they are) won’t do a thing when it’s so cold your skin hurts.

25.Most things can be worked out with chocolate.

26. People are not invisible. Let others know you see them.

27. We all bring gifts to this world. You might not ever realize what your gifts are. Just know others appreciate them.

28. Children throwing fits can be annoying. Adults doing the same is unacceptable.

29. You are worthy.

30. 7 years to digest gum? So,who tracks that?

31. No one passes gas. They fart. No one is passing anything. Releasing, maybe. Passing?Nah.

32. Say sorry when you’re wrong. Unless, of course you’re not wrong.

33. Be nice to old people-we’re all headed that way.

34. Learn to swim and drive a stick shift. When you need those skills, you’ll be grateful you did.

35. Why go to movies if you can’t eat popcorn? No, really.

36. Forgive. Or at least try.

37. Thank people.

38. More expensive doesn’t equate being better. Except for toilet paper.

39. The English language is confusing. Colonel, Wednesday, February. See what I mean?

40. No one wears their bridesmaid dress after they stand up in a wedding. Be a good friend-buy the ill-fitting shiny dress and skip Starbucks for a year to pay for it. And not a word when they get divorced.  Not one effing word.

41. They’re bison. Not buffalo.

42. Stop judging so much. Oh wait, you are a judge??? My bad.

43. Don’t squash someone’s passion. It’s not nice and virtually impossible.

44. Believe in Heaven. Just in case.

45. The shortcomings of our parents do not need to be those of our own.

46. Having a virus doesn’t make you a bad person. Neither does having mental illness.

47. One foot is always bigger than the other. That’s all good until you wear pointy-toed shoes.

48. We’re worlds apart, yet closer than we know.

49. Telling anxious people to calm down pretty much won’t work.

50. Telling me to be quiet? Oh, that’s a good one!

 

 

 

 

 

 

So-here we are.  Face to face with 8th grade graduation.  Just. Like.  That. 10 years have come and gone. I keep looking at the calendar-who stole time? I mean, maybe someone should have given me a yearly countdown. You know, kind of a soft reminder.

Our son had baby teeth when he began school. He lost those, grew a new set, added braces, and now he’s working on a mustache. He didn’t know our phone number back then, and now he has a phone of his own. In K4 he took naps.  Now he stays up later than me most nights. His voice is shedding its youthful tone almost daily. And now it’s goodbye to the days of show and tell. Farewell recess.

These years didn’t pass without  growing pains.  For all of us.  So as I look back, I wonder what words of comfort my younger self and other parents could use.

Savor every single hug and kiss you get (from your kid-I’m not talking about random strangers here). Every.  Single.  One.

Don’t worry about the math homework.  Okay worry. Alot.  Tears will be shed.  You will feel less than smart.  Your kid may think you are less than smart. Keep calm and ask the teacher for help.

There are classroom rules put in place by teachers.  Follow them-they got this.  I kid you not. I had a bag violation when the storage bag for our son’s’ clothing was too big. Epic fail. But just like we tell our kids-the rules may seem ridiculous-you don’t have to like them-but obey them.  You are not the teacher.

Backpack mail isn’t what it sounds like.  It actually needs to taken out of the backpack. Do not assume you were skipped for the permission slip for the year’s most amazing field trip.  Look in the kid’s backpack.  Squished and crumpled in the tattered binder-under the sweatshirt and last week’s now rotting bag lunch. Yeah-there.

Know that your child may not be invited to every party or sleep over.  There will be hurt feelings.  Harsh words. Games lost. It will rip your heart out.  Be there for them-because too many times they feel no one else is.

Follow the flow of the carpool line. Don’t be that parent. Trust me.  Just don’t.

Remember the grade on the science project is your child’s-not yours. (But yes, it was a spectacular Solar System). And yes, we can tell which kids’ parents were Comm Arts majors and those who majored in Engineering.

Snow days aren’t convenient to adults, but man, to a kid….

Get to know the other parents.  They will be your lifeline. They will remind you about assignment due dates, game start times, and days off school.  They will make parenting less isolating. And some of them will  take Mom’s Night Out to a whole new level.

Find out what the other kids in your kids’ unit like for lunch.  Because the truth is that’s who’s actually eating those lunches you pack.

You don’t need to agree with the teachers.  Or like them.  Sometimes the most meaningful lessons are non-academic and involve learning  to navigate life’s uncomfortable relationships. But understand these folks are on the front lines and are well prepared to handle unexpected insects, spills, coughs, sudden illness, scrapes, book orders, clashing personalities, hundreds of dollars in field trip fees, endless stacks of permission slips, and missing lunches.

Understand teachers are human.  They may be going through divorce, have partners that are ill, spouses that have passed away, children of their own dealing with heavy issues, and literally hundreds of parents and students to interact with.  Yet they show up-nurturing, encouraging, coaching, mentoring, and teaching our kids.  I mean, who else gets that giddy when they buy a Costco sized pack of gold stars? Or bright banners for a classroom? Have you looked, I mean really looked, at these folks in the classroom? Next time you see your youngster skipping across the parking lot on their way into school-just know these adults are a big reason why. You bet they can have the summer off.

Don’t worry about which art projects and home-made stuff to keep.  Keep them all for now.  And look at them often. Chances are you have more shoes than you need and you made room for them.  Just sayin’.

Enjoy the fact that sports are truly for fun.  Because soon enough you will be screaming plays from the sidelines as if there were college scouts in the crowd.  There won’t be any. But there will be some great relationships and conversations that develop with the other parents as you watch your kiddos play. It’s amazing how much comfort can be found in sharing a lawn chair and hand warmers.

Do not knock the PTO parents.  Seriously, these folks are responsible for getting things done.   Nuff said.

Take no one at your kid’s school for granted.  From the staff that checks your student in before and after school, to the playground assistants, to the janitorial staff, to the office admins to the TA’s.  A well-run school is no accident.

The smell of a stone hallway filled with soggy winter boots.  The sounds of overlapping, endless giggles in the classroom.  The sight of a playground filled with kids running in every direction. As a parent these events-these times-occur with such frequency you think they’ll never end.  But they do. To the parent of a kindergartener- 10 years is the quickest, longest time you may ever know.

 

Okay…please excuse the title. I didn’t have time to finesse it. But I couldn’t let that prevent me from writing today. Today, a day that hasn’t always been a favorite day of mine. But almost 27 years after my mother died it’s sinking in (yeah, not always quick on the uptake) that there is still much beauty in the world, that you find a way to move forward-even if you have to go backward first, and that there are so many people to connect with.

Mom encouraged us to see the beauty in all things and all people. In the current landscape of society that’s quite a challenge. However, about a month ago I sat in the car waiting in the school parking lot for my kids to come out. As raindrops began covering my windshield I began to grumble because that meant I’d need another car wash, I’d have to roll the widows up, the kids didn’t have rain jackets, the dog would trounce around in the soggy mess of a yard, and where was my umbrella!!!!! And then out of the corner of my eye I saw this little girl from the Kindergarten class, standing next to her car. Her mother was rushing to get her younger sibling in the car, but she just stood there. Head tilted back a bit and squinting between the raindrops. And that grin. She grinned as if she ha just been told the best secret ever. She was relishing in the beauty of the simple moment. The beauty is there. Sometimes you just have to look very hard. Maybe with bifocals. And wait. A long time. Until it rains maybe.

Difficult relationships, stale careers, and the death of someone you love sucks (no need to get fancy with words). Some will tell you to just “move on”. Worst advice ever. Why? Because if you could just move on-you would!!! Don’t beat yourself up. But yeah…do take chances. You may fail, but thinking you won’t is vain and honestly unrealistic. I fell at my front door. Not kidding. Opened the door, then fell (very simple formula). I’ve been opening doors for a long time, but that day I fell. As I lay on the top step I kept thinking, Man, I fell! And now I gotta get up! And that’s what I did.  I got up.  I’ve opened doors for many years but that day I couldn’t do it without falling.  Got a few bruises and great fodder for laughter. *Update…I resume writing this after a brief incident.  My youngest son was bringing me breakfast in bed and the fork dropped off the plate and got stuck in his foot! His foot is fine. So yeah about moving forward.  It’s attainable.  Sometimes with reflection, patience, and faith.  Other times a band aid will do the trick.

Please don’t misunderstand me.  No one, not a single person can take the place of my mother  Not even a close second.  But as I have gotten older (or rather more “mature”) I value relationships differently. From those who have known me long enough to have enough dirt to secure I will never have a career in politics, to the newbies who have yet to discover my incessant love of all things chocolate and cowgirl boots.  I’m talking from high school to college-neighbors, coworkers,family, and strangers (are you really surprised I talk to strangers?). You have helped me see the  wealth of beauty in this world. You’ve been there to help me move on (if even at a snail’s pace and sometimes stumbling). And whether it’s dogs, careers, kids, or chocolate, we find a way to connect.  I appreciate you.  Carry on all you MOMS (Magnificent Other Maternals)! I appreciate you.

 

 

So today will be my final air shift. 19 years ago I started my career in broadcasting and have remained at the same station that entire time (that is almost a miracle). I used to joke that they wouldn’t can me because I’d bawl like a baby all the way out the door. Ironically, it’s my choice to step away and I’ve been bawling for days now, knowing the end was near.

But man what an amazing career. I traveled twice to Catalina Island (I know nothing about a “borrowed without permission” golf cart). I got to do stage intros for countless artists (why was Kenny G’s stage manager dude so rude?). I did countless broadcasts from Jazz in the Park (I don’t care what the dentist says about popcorn, I sure hope Doug the Kettle Corn guy is still there). I racked up more t-shirts and CD’s than I know what to do with-not kidding-any takers? I got to go to work in virtually the most fashionless but comfortable clothing ever made. Endorsements, free Summerfest tickets and goodie bags from local businesses were always welcome.

And I learned alot. I learned that you can spill liquid on the board and it may or may not still work. Speaking of the board…I learned that there are lots of buttons to press and after a decade of pressing them, you’ll still occasionally hit the wrong one. I learned that a truly talented jock can use the bathroom in less than 60 seconds. This does not make for a patient potty trainer, “C’mon, c’mon…get it going! We only have 30 seconds left.” I learned that dead air makes everyone in the building run toward the studio (some faster than others). I learned that the Wauwatosa Police Dept. will only be slightly impressed with your on air abilities…just enough to maybe let you out of a ticket. I learned that people who work in radio are connected-to the music, to the community, and to fellow radio peeps. We “get” each other. And I have learned that despite our many differences, opinions, and preferences, radio  (if only for a short time) can bring a common bond between people.

I was a single lady (shout out to Beyonce) when I started my career in radio. With one dog. Since then I got married (shout out to my husband, Charles), got another dog, several homes, and two kids ( yeah another two shouts out to my husband). I’m not even sure we had email back then. I do know my cell phone was huge (but my bill was a fraction of what it is today).

I’d like to say I loved every minute of it. But receiving Amber Alerts is always awful. Sharing information about an impending storm or someone who has died can be difficult. I can’t even describe the numbness 911 put over all of us. But that’s part of the job. And I have been privileged to have that job for so long.

Why leave? Because things are going well. Huh? So, for me it’s like staying too long at the party. You know-when the buzz you had going wears off, the dip has that been-out too-long look (artichoke dip takes a dive after two hours), and there are only crumbs-not whole chips-left. You spilled sauce on your shirt and your hair looks like you need to either run a brush through it or use a half a can of hairspray on it. Plates are piled up and the trash bags are full. I never wanted to leave when things were messy. I have always known I wanted to leave while my relationships were in tact and I could hold my head high. It’s kinda like the longer I stay, the harder it will be for me to go.

So I will go. And as I do, I want to say thanks to our clients for trusting us to promote your business. Thank you to my coworkers who had to put up with my quirky habits and constant hunt for chocolate (wait…is there more? Seriously, is there?) Most of all thank you for listening. Maybe you won a prize during my show (I know- you want that trip-I get it). Or perhaps I played a song for you or your office mates. I hope I made you smile or laugh or gave you a momentary diversion from your day’s stresses.

Keep calm, and please keep listening.

My Dear Sons

Yes, I know that for the first time in your elementary school history you will be going to school. On Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I’ll admit, at first I was not pleased. How could school be in session on such an significant day? I was tempted to keep you home. Then I thought about it it (and I am not a big thinker of late).

You’re going to school. And when you go, you’ll see people riding the bus. And they can sit wherever they please…unless someone just happens to be in their favorite seat because they got there first. See..this is why I say get up early.

Daddy will drive you. In a car that he bought because he has a job. A job teaching. And he teaches…wait for a it…children of all backgrounds. Imagine that.

When daddy drops you off you will walk freely up the school steps. You won’t need an armed police escort to see you through the front door. There will not be a line of racist people shouting insults so nasty you’ll wonder if the trek into the building is really worth it. No. You will likely bolt out of the car in effort to beat your brother to the entrance. (Please be careful of the little kids and the ice okay?).

When you get to school you will see kids of practically every hue there is. Black kids, Asian children, Hispanic kids, White kids and there’s a few I don’t know what the heck they are. And you and your brother won’t have to go to separate classrooms than your white friends. That thing in the hall where you get water? You’re free to use that to. Bathrooms too.

While you’re in school in that one class you may not like so much and you begin to daydream, think of others who fought hard. I’m talking damn hard, for you to be in that one class you might not like so much. Think of your Grandfather Endom. You know the group photo of the men in uniform in the dining room? The one with the lone man of color (with that beautiful smile, like a young Denzel). Think about how he, and countless others fought for the freedoms of many. Think about that because of where he lived he could not vote when he turned 18. You’ll be 18 in a few years. Think of how your Grandmother was the first Black female pharmacist in this state. Think about all of that, and then think about what you can contribute and what you wanna be when you grow up. And pay attention too, okay? Even in the class you don’t like so much.

Daddy and I will be home. Yes, the same home in which I recently found out had a a clause in the deed when we bought it stating that it could not be sold to any Black person. Ha…makes me wanna stay here forever…even with that kitchen I dislike so much. Yup. We will be home in the house we were able to get a mortgage for without regard to our race. And the same house that when we bought it, the neighbors didn’t all decide to sell their homes.

A day off? C’mon…the weekend is only 5 days away.

 

 

There isn’t just one reason I love my husband. There’s a gazillion. And since a gazillion s too many to write, I’ll list my faves which include that fact that he:

 

• wasn’t too proud to cry at the birth of our sons
• bought me all the chilly cheese dogs I wanted when I was pregnant
• easily spent over 1000 hours rocking our oldest to sleep…while standing
• stays strong when two sets of sweet brown eyes beg for more sugar
• lets me borrow his good black socks…you know the ones that aren’t gray yet
• tells me I’m beautiful
• reminds our boys the rich heritage they come from
• never says my butt looks big in my jeans…or out of them
• plays catch with the boys even when he’s tired
• gives the best foot rubs
• buys the boys ice cream even when he first said no
• doesn’t think I’m weird for my love of cowgirl boots
• knows how to feed my love of chocolate
• will lay down the law when the kids mess up
• often busts out laughing while trying to lay down that law
• makes daily life a science project for the kids
• makes no qualms about his place on the couch
• tells the kids to marry someone like their mom
• demands the boys to finish what they start
• doesn’t charge for his pedicure services
• cleans the basement…well, one day

I figured I’d post a photo of my Mom too…just like 75% of the other cool kids on FB.  One problem…I couldn’t find one.  Brief panic set in as I headed to the attic twice to find one.  Not wanting to feel any more motherless than necessary, I had to find one.  Alas…thanks to a rusty trunk that looks like it was made circa 1810 I found it.  It was there in the album my mom had made just for me after she became ill. How about a collective F you to cancer?  Thanks.

She’s been gone twenty-five years. That’s a quarter of 100 (and I suck at math). Mother’s day was the last day she was able to speak. S­­­he died 3 days later. And after that I used to count the days from her death. Then the weeks.  And months.  I stopped doing that a few years ago when the years without her outnumbered the days I had with her.  That, and again the fact that I suck at math. 

Then a few weeks ago my oldest son asked, “Do you have any pictures of her?  Of  Grandma?  You don’t really talk about her much.” Oh boy.  For years I would just give them a quick, easy answer. “She was really nice and she would absolutely love you.” That answer wasn’t cuttin’ it anymore.  I could sense he wasn’t going for the short version. 

But in talking about her I might be emotionally inconvenienced. I would have to explain that she wanted to stay, but she couldn’t, at one point looking me straight in the face and explaining there was nothing left the doctors cold do.  Man, I wish she would have lied. 

 Or do I tell them about all she missed? My college graduation. My first job. My wedding.  My husband.  And the biggest of all…my boys.

 Then I realize she didn’t miss a thing.  I missed her.   My mother raised me better than that. Good comes from bad.  And someone always has it worse.

 She told me the important life lessons.  About marriage…you have to be unselfish because your spouse will change. You have to make a decision whether or not to accept that change. I should mention at this point that my husband and I both are youngest kids.  Stubbornness abounds.

 About kids. You’re going to get upset with them but you need to make sure you calm down when you discipline them because you don’t want to punish them out of anger. Even if they call their brother a butthead? 

Treat others they way you want to be treated. Yes, even if they really are buttheads. 

Career?  She thought maybe I could do something where I could write or talk. Mother really does know best.

 The good so outweighs the bad.  So I thought of what I loved, liked, and missed the most about my mom.

I remember she always smelled good.  Not in a perfumey way, although there was a brief Jean Nate phase. But she smelled sweet.  Really.  Like honey. I took comfort in laying my head on her shoulder or lap just to take in that good mom scent.

 Hands down the best bread baker in the neighbor hood.  I know my crew from the old neighborhood will back me up on this.  Some of them got Twinkies but my mom made bread and cookies from scratch.  My baking skills pale in comparison.  Okay, there is no comparison.  

She saw beauty in anything and everything. A tree wasn’t just a tree.  It was a rich, strong figure extending its branches leading to something else.  Yes, this is why I stop and look hard at trees. Really hard.

 She was the happiest when she was painting.  I mean the kind of happy that when you and your best friend wanted to stay out late and she was painting, she would nod her head and say. “Okay sweetie, have fun.” All while keeping a steady eye on the canvas.

 And she was nervous about lots of stuff .Yes, boys take note I am not the only one that says you can’t be letting just anyone walk in your house. Or that gloves need to be worn in the winter even if it’s for a 3 second walk to the car.

 She wrote notes. Lots of them.  Found one in her golf bags a few years ago.  In her final days she wrote notes to remember things she wanted to talk with God about.  Kinda wish I could have gotten something on that list too.  And this may be where my love of post-it notes derives from.

 When she saw you off she would wave.  She would stand there until you were out of sight.  I know because I looked back. I often wondered how long she stood there.

 She didn’t believe in waste or care about being fancy.  The good fluffy bathroom towels and the real butter (who invented margarine?) only came out when company came. Oh how I longed for more visitors.

 She was grounded in her faith and believed in attending church as close to every Sunday as possible. That determination was quite possibly the only advantage of growing up in a family that believes camping hundreds of miles from civilization was fun.  There are no churches in national forests.

 She was really good to others and put them first. I’m the youngest…still working on it.

 She understood hard work.  She picked cotton as a kid.  She mothered six children.  The thought of both of those scenarios amazes and frightens me at the same time. 

So boys, the short answer is she was really nice and she would have really loved you.  The long answer unfolds every day in the beauty around us in caring for others in relishing every moment with those we love.

Mom, thank you seems so minimal for all you taught, gave and sacrificed for me. I would give anything to see you give me that close-to-forever wave.  At least now if I do turn to look back, I know that somehow you are waving back.  I may not see you, but your presence surrounds me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can barley remember a time that I didn’t know you.  And even though you’re an important part of my life, I have to wonder if it’s not best to part ways.

I thought supporting you would be good for me.  But let’s face it, I’m not the only woman you’re involved with. I get the attraction.  Brown­ and sweet.  But lately when you’re around I think I’m too into you.  But do you feel the same about me?  Likely not.  I want to believe that you still stand for the greater good. On the other hand, I am beginning to wonder if you really are good for me.  I have become selfish in your presence. I don’t want to share you with the kid­s. And of course, not with other women. 

 I didn’t want this to be public, but I realized that many others are aware of this situation already.  Plus, they probably notice the change in me; one minute I am excited to see you then next-not so much.  When others question me, I tend to downplay your impact on me.  As if the weight gain isn’t a big enough clue. 

Maybe it is time for a break. Just for awhile.  We could try a year.  It’s not me.  It’s you. Yes, Thin Mints, it’s definitely you.  So, until this time next year, we may need to take a break.  By then I may be able to work off the ten pounds you helped me gain.  By then I’ll have more money to spend on you.  By then I’ll have that warm fuzzy feeling you gave me the very first time we met.  Don’t worry.  I’ll explain it to the kids. The milk and I will be just fine. 

 Take care.

*The above was for satirical purposes only.  In no way, shape, or form would I suggest I, or you, not support buying gobs of the best cookies, from thousands of tomorrow’s female leaders.  Get your own box. Or fifty. Yeah. Go figure-there’s a site just for that. https://www.girlscouts.org/en/cookies/all-about-cookies/How-to-Buy.html