Welcome to my little ol' blog. I'll be upfront about it: I don't blog very often any more. If you found your way here because you read my book "Trailer Life," have a gander! But it's easier to keep up with me on Instagram or on my Facebook page. I have this long, drawn out theory on why I'm a terrible blogger, but that is a story for another day. Enjoy the ramblings of my life from the last 8 years or so.

Monday, July 20, 2009

I'm not a princess, but I'm thinking of converting...

As I was hammering a board while standing on a ladder five and a half feet above ground in the 104* heat, I had the thought "Maybe I should be more feminine. Wear more make-up, shave my legs daily, buy some heels... but that's dumb." I am feminine, to a point. For example, I can't lift heavy things high above my head. I don't hawk and spit lugies in front of Ryan. I only swear at inanimate objects that I have to fix in the heat, and at my dog who is so stubborn it's ridiculous. I don't change the oil in my car myself. I wear eye-liner and mascara to church and to most public outings. My hair is long-ish and curly- that should automatically count as something. AND, although I hate shopping, (it's the bane of my existence), I do keep myself reasonably presentable. Other than that though, I am much like an androgynous little twit. I prefer to wear boy clothes. I see the value of a tool belt and am threatening to get my own (only with a Karrie sized hammer and not a Ryan sized hammer...). I like to shovel dirt. I can hold down the homestead while Ryan is away... even if I don't like to. I had the thought that Ryan is ONE LUCKY GUY to have married such a capable and mostly whine-free woman. But then I thought, "Maybe he'd like a princess better." Then I snorted out load and finished the job of fixing the stacks of insulation again, and hopefully for the last time. Because I'm really not that capable. And a princess wouldn't survive out here for more than a week.
In other news:
  • I caught/killed my 17th mouse in a month. Trust me when I say I believe that a dead mouse in the trap is SO MUCH BETTER than mouse poop in my cupboards.
  • I had a meeting today with the new superintendent/principal and a teacher from the other school district because we are writing a grant. "We" is a loose term, as I gave some input and wrote a few pages, but my part in the grant writing process is rather small. I'm just not feeling the love for the grant writing, and a lot of it is technical stuff that the district knows. My role is that of Child Development Center Consultant, I suppose. Rough budgetary needs, supplies, equipment needs, licensing requirements, and curriculum/child development stuff. I like my role, and am grateful for the work of the others. I hate administrative stuff that is law related. And financials? Blech! If we get the grant through First 5, then we will be able to fund a preschool for 15 children (free for them!) for three years. It is so needed in our area.
  • The kids were horrible for our meeting. Ed bit me. He bit Jared yesterday. He's way too old for biting... it's all calculated and mean. Little kids will bite out of frustration and self defense (perceived or otherwise) and those children are usually non-verbal. Ed? Ed told me he bit me because I was being mean to him and not letting him go. After the meeting we were walking to the car and the cafeteria lady came out and offered us free lunch. We went in and the kids got burritos! It was great! No cooking, no cleaning... and they were happy. I'm still upset about Ed... I'm not sure what to do with him. I feel like I usually know the answers to all my parenting philosophy problems, but he is stumping me. He is so active. He is very smart. He is very unruly. I shall ponder the subject while at Girls' Camp this week.
  • Yesterday in church I was solo in Primary. No pianist, no chorister, no other presidency leaders. Krissy is at a family reunion, and Marcie had to go into the nursery, because for the sixth Sunday in a row, new help has not be called for. She has her little one in nursery, I have Ed who hates to stay in... so she took Jessie, too, and helped out in there. That actually made it so much easier to run primary without babies in there! The walking around, snacking, climbing on chairs the little ones do are awfully cute, but they are VERY distracting. The kids in primary were really good yesterday. So, even though the idea of being by myself sounds scary, it actually wasn't terrible. I would have to say though, a pianist and music leader are indispensable. We sang to CD's, but I didn't like that. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do.
  • Going to Girls' Camp to help with the kitchen stuff. The girls are staying with my mom, and the boys are staying with Ryan's mom. Both wanted to keep some, and how convenient that we have two of each? And, since my mom's house is under construction and had a pool, the girls are a safer choice for her. Kacy won't go outside without permission, and Jessie can't. Ed and Will? No way. Ed would escape outside and head for the pool. At Ryan's parents house, Ed will escape outside, and he'll head for the chickens. Much safer. This is the third time Ryan and I are leaving the kids. The first time was for Girls' Camp two years ago, when Kacy and Will stayed with Ryan's parent's and Ed stayed with my mom. Then, this January Ryan and I went to Los Angeles for a long weekend. The girls stayed with my mom (again, that pool. And the girl cousins- Kacy likes to hang out with her girl cousins every now and then) and the boys stayed with Ryan's parents. Maybe next year I'll farm them out further- to grandma's and aunts/cousins! One to each place... have to think about that one.
  • I am opening up bank accounts for all my nieces and nephews when they turn 8. I'm late for Benjamin, so I'll do his next week, too. Instead of buying birthday presents, I'm going to put money in their accounts. That way when they turn 18 or 19, they'll have several hundred dollars to spend on college text books or suits for missions. Shopping for gifts from where I live is just too much of a hassle, and then they end up with toys they don't play with or their mom's have to clean up. So, a bank account it is.

1 comment:

  1. I call myself a princess, but I own my own tool belt, with my name on it in pink. My own hammer (smaller than Jim's) and tape measure and such. I kill the snakes in our family, but I am a HUGE sucker for a new pair of heels! That makes Jim really lucky, we are the best kinds of wives.