Life Force (in other words trying to not sell girl scout cookies)

February 1, 2016

Written by Marykate O’Malley, mother of three wonderful children, Gladwyne, PA

Preface / Disclaimer

Please don’t take anything I write too seriously. I certainly don’t. Laughter truly is the great medicine. And I am known to laugh when things are especially hard and peaking, and well, it can seem a bit inappropriate, or insensitive. But it is how I manage stress. Some cry, I laugh. So if I have ever offended you by laughing at something that really wasn’t funny… it’s me. Not you. And I do support the Girl Scout cookie sale 110%. They are awesome and adorable and seeing how empowered my daughter is selling these… I get it. It’s like an American Girl doll movie taking place in front of me. It really is that adorable. So please support the Girl Scout Troops by buying cookies, and the Troops, by donating cookies to them!!!

More information on the Cookie Sales here!

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Like “the force” we got into the Star Wars movie too, although not truly sci-fi at heart. My son watched the series with his closest pals, throwbacks to when I was kid, building up to the silver screen Star Wars movie which of course we had to see over Christmas break. “Don’t try. Do. Or Do Not”. I get it. I do yoga. I meditate and all that. And with the Girl Scout cookie sale I had a similar strategy – do and be done. Sell what we needed to sell, support the cause, support my daughter, and get out. Quick. A clean, easy, strategic end.

I tried that. It didn’t work. We picked up our inventory, and paid in full. 12 cases of assorted cookies. Loaded them into the car, then into the house. And shamelessly sold to every unassuming visitor, friend , neighbor, and family member. My daughter dutiful, diligent, pushing cookies like she was eating her next meal with that 4 dollars. Peddling hard. Blue eyes, angelic voice like the breeze on an early morning in May, and those freckles. “How about some cookies”, “do you want to buy Girl Scout cookies”, “would you like a chocolate peanut butter too?” “Did you know I am selling girl scout cookies?!” And before we knew it the cookies were gone. Sold to every person who dared to step into our high fructose syrup infused trap. Shop closed. Inventory accounted for. My job here was done.

But it wasn’t… “You are selling girl scout cookies”, I heard. “Why didn’t you send an email you are selling cookies??” “Can I get a box of samoas, do they still have them?” And my responsibility strength killing me because when the people of the world are asking for cookies, I can’t say no. Not when I have access and can help them. “Sure, well, I can order some” I hear myself say. And then telling my friend laughing, “you see I am trying to no longer sell girl scout cookies and” … “wait! you are selling cookies? Can we get thin mints?” And then at the hair dresser aka therapist, lamenting about my cookies and dear dear stylist, with the best intentions, “I will buy some!” And now I am delivering across town like it’s my part time job. And I am the girl scout. The 41 year old soon to be 42, who never went to a Brownie meeting in.my.life. Nor wanted to. I wanted to be a Boy Scout. Like my older brother. And have a Swiss Army knife and build go carts, and learn how to survive in the wilderness. And when my mom and daughter stand in the kitchen and raise their right hands in unison and say “on my honor” and “God and country” and “to help all people at all times” as my mom irons another badge on my daughter’s sash, I am thinking about how I want to be done, and never speak of thanks a lots, or lemonades, or caramel delights again. Because we are all soooo confused and everyone knows, they are samoas. Not caramel delights. Why change the name. And I still refer to them as samoas which is why I will never be a girl scout. Give me a Swiss Army knife and wilderness guide, and send me on my way, thank you very much.

My sister went around the neighborhood, selling cookies with my mom, boxes stacked in the red radio flyer wagon. And here my wonderful mother, a girl scout from years past selling cookies with my daughter. I tell her about the booths, and she volunteers to help. (thank you Mom!!!) She says, “you will probably need a sign, and a table”… “No”, I say, “I think you just show up. You know, and they have all that stuff”. And then a week later I am calling her, “yes, so I do need a table, and sign. And change”. Maybe the girl scouts prepares you for this stuff.

And my sister tells me I need to stop. Being the hero that is. Which is my responsibility’s shadow side. I can easily live in the dark side of having a hard time saying no. The struggle is real. “Tell them you don’t have any more”, she says. And she is right. I know my sister, the girl scout is right. 4 trips to the Cookie Mom is my personal limit. So my public service announcement is – support the booths and I will send you and tell you where to get cookies. I promise. I pledge to God and country to help you find your samoas and thin mints.

And I learned a great deal in peddling cookies for a greater cause: if there is something in this world you truly want and deeply desire, lace up your Nike’s, strap on that fitness tracking device and run as fast as you possibly can in the opposite direction. Because the force catches up to you and will track you down, no matter how reluctant you are. Peace out Scouts.