I am not the troop leader. Also, I am not the cookie mom, though you never could tell by watching, even closely.
The first three years, my good friend Kelly and I shared 'cookie mom' duties. We had a blast. We collected the girls' forms, sat in one of our kitchens, drank tons of coffee, ate coffee cake, and figured out boxes sold, cases, multiplied by three, laughed, gossipped and griped.
Last year, Kelly's daughter dropped out of the troop, so I was to do it alone. No biggie, right. OH NO, here comes Caroline, Mrs. "6 thousand dollah hahdwood flawers' herself. Oh GOD if I have to listen to the story of the g-dmn 6 THOUSAND DOLLAH HAHDWOOD FLAWERS one.more.time. I will kill myself.
This woman is so freakin' clueless. She wants to help. She wants to be 'THE cookie mom.'
okay, no more responsibility for me, right?
WRONG!!!! (yes that is 4 exclamation points- OF FRANCE!!!!)
I, of course, have to hold her hand. I have to CALL HER AND REMIND HER OF EVERY STEP SHE MUST TAKE. ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH.
Two years in a row now I have done this. This year, I have actually done EVERYTHING myself, because I cannot let Sally, my fantastic troop leader, have to do this too. She did not show up at the booth sale. She did not call any of the moms to get their money. This morning, and the money is due today or the kids don't get their extra 10 cent-per-box bonus, I had to CALL HER and tell her 'GIMME THE PAPER WORK YOU LOSER' and count all of the money (that I collected) fill out the deposit slip (that I collected) and now I am off to the bank to make the deposit.
Today, I told Sally to FIRE HER ASS.
okay, I didn't actually call her a loser, I just wanted to sooooooo strongly.