A couple of weeks ago, I delivered my last band pies ever.
Here is where I say what an emotional experience it was, knowing that a significant Band Mom tradition had come to an end for me. Never again would I be posting proud Mom Pleas on Facebook, asking if any of my Facebook friends wanted to buy a delicious Band Pie from The Teenager to help support the outstanding band program at the high school. After the pies left my custody, I stood at the door and cried, knowing that a era had come to an end.
Nah, actually, I was just happy to have the pies out of my freezer, because I need the room. I need the room desperately because Girl Scout Cookie season is upon us, and I need to stock up on those chocolate covered peanut butter nuggets of pure snacking heaven.
When the last band pie left my threshold, I realized that the milestone I'd just come to in my parenting was bigger than band pies: I am now a buyer, not a seller.
That's right, folks: as far as I am aware, that was my last parent fundraiser, ever. The Son of Never Stops Eating doesn't really do fundraisers for his activities, and honestly, if he did, I'd probably just write a check. Band Pies were the exception to the "Can I just write a check?" rule because it was simply impossible to pass up that irresistible creamy chocolate goodness (at about 2000 calories a slice) of the French Silk Band Pie, especially when the other three residents of the household were pleading for a bulk order of their favorite pies.
Next year, I'll probably be tracking down some band kids so that I can be a buyer of that divine deliciousness. I will not, however, be counting money or filling out order forms or delivering them at 10 PM on a school night because they don't all fit in the freezer.
Nope, not this girl. I will be paying and taking delivery and then consuming that pie. Or, at least hoping to get one piece before the other residents of my household eat it all. I'll probably need more than one pie.
Whenever I see Girl Scouts selling cookies, I am strongly tempted to stop and buy at least one box. I usually give in, especially if I see that they have those Lemonades, which are the best Girl Scout cookie ever made. Part of it is because I remember the cookie days: taking orders, organizing delivery, counting money, sitting at tables in grocery stores with hyper 3rd graders who are mostly arguing about who is wearing the cookie mascot outfit and not actually selling any cookies. I was there once, and now I'm not, and I cannot say that I miss it. It was fun, but I'm also glad that I don't have to worry any more about getting the order wrong or losing the money or having the family mutt eat several boxes.
I am now a buyer, not a seller, so I get to fork over my $4 a box and take my delicious cookies home and try to hide them somewhere before the Son of Never Stops Eating tracks them down and eats them.
I know that fundraisers are an essential part of running most child-related organizations, and I've sold and bought raffle tickets, cookies, pies, cookie dough, wrapping paper, some e-discount card that I didn't really ever get figured out (I only sold one, to myself, and then I never used it), chocolates, popcorn, "gift items", and probably quite a few more that I've now forgotten about. I've begged people for money for play-a-thons, jump-a-thons, run-a-thons, and math-a-thons. I taught the Teenager how to call Grandpa and give him her sales pitch so that he could get in on the fun.
But, to be quite honest, while this year has had several bittersweet moments, and I've choked up a few times, and felt sad at the thought that this will be the last time The Teenager does (fill in blank), completing my last fundraising task isn't one of them.
I'm really glad that I'm back to buyer status; my seller days are over.
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