Girl Power

Sigh.  Finished my first Daisy Scout meeting today.  I only had 5 girls, but it was still pandemonium.  Lesson #1 of the Day:  5/6 year old girls are just as nuts as 1st grade boys playing baseball.  As usual, the scene I pictured in my head didn’t match up at all with what actually transpired.

The scenario in my head:

Five nice, quiet girls sit down, eat a quiet snack, do a quiet craft (neatly), and then sit in a circle to learn all about Girl Scout traditions.  Do the friendship circle to close and disperse.  (God, typing that I do realize what a total moron I am.  I mean, I do have one of these creatures don’t I?)

Actual scenario:

Girls running throughout our meeting place (the school cafeteria), constantly having to go to the bathroom, only to be found playing with water and paper towels.  Throwing a beach ball at each other, even when said ball never did get used for its original name game ice breaker purpose.  Diving right into the craft upon entry to learn Lesson #2 of the Day:  Glitter glue NEVER dries, but will get on EVERYTHING.  Which leads into Lesson #3 of the Day:  Bring paper towels to arts and crafts times.  Which leads to Lesson #4 of the Day:  YOU SUCK AT ARTS AND CRAFTS JENNIFER.  WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!  You bought a hole puncher that was too small.  You brought glitter glue for 5 year old girls to use.  You didn’t buy enough rainbow yarn for the necklaces and for the love, seriously girl, glitter glue?!

Then we dive into snack.  Everyone chugs juice boxes like they are going 10 rounds with Mike Tyson.  Cheez-Its are ravaged.  (OK, I’m being dramatic, they just ate the crackers and juice quickly, but it was NOT IN THE ORDER I HAD PLANNED.)

Then, what the hell, there are 20 minutes left, let’s just go to the playground and run around.

I did manage to cram 10 minutes of actual Girl Scouting into the last tiny bit of our meeting.  We did the friendship squeeze, learned the Girl Scout Pledge (crap, Promise, I will get this vocab down soon I swear) and got our hands to do the motto thingee (again failing at the vocab.)  They all seemed to like the squeeze thing, so it gave me hope that with a little control and organization, they may just like this whole thing.

Apparently, the guide books that told you to establish rules at the onset were on to something.  It’s like I’ve never met a kid before.  Yeesh.

Overall, the parents were nice, grateful that I took the helm and seemed ok with the fact that this first meeting was not the finely tuned, efficient machine I had envisioned in my head.  Thank God.

Thank God also for Pinterest (which just made me panic at my inadequacies and lack of planning, but which I think will prove helpful for the future), a great program and support system by our local Council and most importantly, for the mom who promised to be my second in command and who also seemed genuinely excited to help come up with arts and crafts after I professed how bad I suck at them. GOD BLESS YOU MY NEW BEST FRIEND!

SIDEBAR:  Are we noticing a trend in my volunteering?  Girl Scout Troop Leader who sucks at arts and crafts.  Boys baseball coach who can’t catch or throw a baseball.  Why can’t I stick to volunteering at what I’m good at?  Is there even a school age club for dirty books and napping?

Guess I have to stick to things outside my comfort zone, which is why I continue to make these seemingly awful decisions.  Cause let’s face it, if I don’t, I will end up the hermit cat lady who is dead for a month before anyone notices she’s gone. I will constantly strive to break out of my introvert shell to avoid this grime fate.

So to sum up, glitter glue + insane expectations = a humorous tale to make you feel better about your own lives.

Hope you enjoyed!

This is what an idiot looks like.  And yes, I do have glitter glue on the butt of this new shirt.

This is what an idiot looks like. And yes, I do have glitter glue on the butt of this new shirt.

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Thank God I’m a Country Girl

When I get a spare moment in life, at work, out and about, at home, I usually hop on Pinterest.  I love this site, it has so many great ideas, tips, recipes, and funny sayings you could browse for days.  One of my favorite things to do during the day is to copy pictures of ideas that I love and email them to my husband so he can do them.  Some of my favorites have been under stairs bathrooms, which we are planning to complete in our basement, cool storage kitchen tips, and best of all, various adorable chicken coops.  Now, I live dead center of a neighborhood in a suburb of Toledo, but God I want me some adorable chickens to live in their own adorable home in my backyard.  What could go wrong?  Plus, my husband and I have an ongoing argument that I could totally be a farmer.  I say yes, totally, and he says, not in a million years.  Here’s my reasoning.

Oh my God Mark you HAVE to build this!

Oh my God Mark you HAVE to build this!

I first got the idea my freshman year of college when I took my first environmental studies class, which ultimately led to my completely USELESS Bachelor of Arts in Environmental Policy degree.  During this class, I had a professor, who let’s just say kept it REAL.   This man practiced what he preached, such as refusing to wear a watch because of the non-recyclable battery and not owning a refrigerator (because they are mass suckers of energy), but instead dug cisterns in his backyard where he kept his perishables.  WEIRD.  But to my 19-year-old brain, this man was LIVING what he was preaching.  For God’s sake, the man made me feel bad about wearing a watch.  That is a gift.   In this class, he had a whole segment on sustainable farming, crop rotation, fallow fields, and so on.  For some ungodly reason, to my young idealistic mind this was fascinating to me.  I kept thinking, how great would life be to not have to leave your own land ever and be able to completely sustain yourself?  It was an introverts dream come true.  I pictured myself waking up to “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” every morning, going out and feeding the chickens with my apron on like Cinderella does, petting the horse and feeding the dog (OK fine, my idea of farm living IS the first 5 minutes of Cinderella, complete with singing birds in cute vests).  Then I would come back in and bake apple pie after apple pie to naturally cool on the windowsill.  Then at supper, I would ring-a-ling my triangle and tell the workers to come in and enjoy some good ole fashioned stew, dumplings, corn pudding, and of course, my ever present apple pie.

Apparently, Mark thinks there is more to farming than the above described, to which I always reply WHATEVER.  Apparently all the above mentioned animals poop a copious amount and someone has to clean it up.  Apparently, someone needs to do something after the crops are planted or else we don’t eat or make any money.  And apparently, eating apple pie every day is somewhat bad for your cholesterol.  So, he continuously reminds me that, of all my dreams, this one he can guarantee I would last approximately five minutes doing and he, as usual, would end up finishing what I started while I found a good book and a glass of wine and read on the couch.  Or maybe the porch swing, because naturally our farmhouse would have a big wraparound porch complete with porch swing and rockers.  Did I mention it never gets cold at our farm?  Awesome I know.  Anyways, do you see how little faith my husband has in me?  Even after 17 years he apparently has no idea who I am.  (Note the sarcasm here, I’m laying it on pretty thick.)  And when he brings up my current garden, I will tell you I have no idea what he’s talking about.  You know, the one I plant all excitedly in May, and then when it gets too hot out, I completely ignore it?  Yeah, that one.

So – now you know why occasionally you will hear my husband yell, “YOU COULD NOT BE A FARMER” at random times.  This is mostly because I have just given him a look after a John Denver song or a Bob Evans commercial plays that says, I could totally do that.  So, I’m guessing Son-In-Law is not an accurate representation of farming?  Cause, I always pictured myself in the Pauly Shore role, as the cool city-girl who awesomes up the farm folks.  (Crap, I’m dating myself.  I just looked it up on IMDB and that movie is 20 years old.)

Yep, Paul Harvey was talking to me.  I hear ya Paul, I’m on it.

But really, this is more what I pictured. Cakes on the griddle, rosining up the bow of my fiddle, whittling some wood.