When my daughter told me she was going to sell oranges for a club fund-raiser, it seemed like a good idea. The money would enable our local Beta Club to attend the state convention. Yesterday the oranges arrived on a semi-trailer. Almost $700 worth belonged to Rachel.
I removed the backseat of my van and stacked it to the top with boxes. It smelled like a Florida orange grove, and squatted on all four tires like a sumo wrestler. The thought ran through my head that selling so many oranges wasn’t such a good idea, but I changed my mind. I went with our club to the convention and I’ve never seen a group of better behaved teenagers having such a good time. It was worth every orange.
Today my daughter and I will deliver oranges. I will attend two basketball games and a parade that my children and nephews are participating in. Later in the day I have a book signing scheduled, and if I make it through all that there are four or five loads of laundry.
Some days I feel like a cross between Edith Bunker and a dog that has been kept tied up too long and suddenly gains its freedom. I dash one direction, then the other. I go full speed ahead with my chin tucked, my tongue hanging out, and my ears pinned to my head from the wind…until I collapse.
Tomorrow I’ll get up and do it all again because I’m “The Mama,” and that’s an honor I don’t take lightly.