On the outside looking in....

Yesterday I walked a mile and a half barefoot.
Not to prove some grand point about how some people don't have shoes, but because I did something very very stupid. Again.
I locked myself out of house while taking out my trash, and when I couldn't creak into my own house...I walked over to my parents' house to see if I could break in there to get my spare key.
Because I can't lock myself out when my parents are in town and can come bring me my spare key. Of course not. Life is never that easy for me. My parents are in Hawaii. So after a series of phone calls trying to either track down a way to get into my own apartment or finding someone with a spare key to my parents' locked-up house so I could get in and and get my own key....I finally (two hours later, and depending on several people for help, which I hate doing) was able to get back into my house. Still shoeless, tired, hungry and completely done with how utterly stupid and idiotic I have been.

Again I ask...does this stuff actually happen to other people, or have I been singled out for some sick experiment...like a Job situation or something....

#thestruggleisreal

It has been over two years since my last post, and I wish I could say that so much has changed...but not really.

I have a new job...but I still feel 'stuck'
I have a new address...but I still don't have a 'home'

I still whine about the same things, I still run away to Disneyland, and I still live too far away from Broadway shows.

So why am I writing now? Well, if my life were a sitcom, today's episode would be called 'A Hardware's Night' or 'Hardware Times Come Again No More' or some other cutesy play on words that would accompany the events that led to the minor freak out I had at the hardware store today.

I am a girl. I am single girl. I am a single girl that sheds like a golden retriever. My hair gets everywhere, and all of the sudden my shedding has caused my bathroom sink to drain v e r y  s l o w l y...

There was a product that my dad used to use in my bathroom sink when I lived at home, since this product unclogged the sink I shared with my equally shedding sister, I figured it was strong enough to fix my clog as well! But this industrial strength hair-dissolver, sink-unclogger stuff isn't something a person can just buy at Target, I had to go to a hardware store.

I feel I'm decently equipped when it comes to minor household fixes. Just yesterday, I helped my dad with a light fixture at my parents' house, but walking into that hardware store made me feel like a stupid little girl.

I didn't know where to look, what to look for, who to ask or what to ask for. I just felt so helpless and idiotic. Part of me was angry because I'm a feminist and I should know these things just as well as any man, but part of me was upset because I'm single and I don't have a husband to take care of this stuff for me.

This has been the identity crisis I've been struggling with for years...I need to know this stuff, but I don't want to need to know this stuff. Any of it. Unclogging sinks, fixing lights, getting my oil changed or my tires rotated...I don't want to be helpless, I just want to be helped out!

"Hey teacher, look!"

My students have so much fun out on the playground. There are slides to ride, monkey bars to climb on, tunnels to crawl through and sand boxes to dig in. Not only are our sandboxes full of magic, wonder and imagination...they are also full of junk. They're like the island of lost pocket-sized toys and other stuff. Until recently, I actually had a small collection of things my students have called me over to look at over the past couple months:

As you can see there is a marble, a penny, part of a watch buckle, some weird orange toy thing, a hex-nut, and of course, every preschooler's favorite plaything: a nail. 

I love that when they discover something new, their excitement bubbles over and they just HAVE to show it to me. Like today for instance, I was supervising the playground, making sure all the little kiddos were safe and I hear the yell "Hey miss Lauren, we found something...come look!" Right about now, you're probably thinking, 'hmm I wonder what they found' (don't lie...you're curious). Well, it was a dead bird. A very, very dead bird. With ants crawling all over it's poor, dead bird carcass. It was gross. They don't teach you how to deal with stuff like this in preschool teacher school...

This is Crazy

Contagious pop songs are one of my guilty pleasures. The top song infecting my brain these days would have to be Carly Rae Jepsen's Call Me, Maybe. It is everything a pop song should be: it's catchy, it's bubbly, and it's just plain ridiculous. Who just goes up to someone and says "Hey I just met you, and this is crazy...but here's my number, so call me maybe?" No one. No one does that.

Oh wait. 

I do that.

Okay I don't do that, but I did that. 

Yesterday I had just had a horrible day at preschool. I had been kicked, hit and bitten by a 4-year-old. I had blocks thrown at me, I was called 'poo-poo-butt', and I had to chase said 4-year-old down the hall, twice, as he tried to run away. The entire time he was doing this, he was giggling like a sociopath. I was feeling terrible, and I was about to call my friends and tell them I wasn't going to meet them for dinner after all. But...that would be letting the 4-year-old win, so instead, I came home and changed into something cuter than my preschool garb. 

So there I was at dinner with my friends and sitting at the table behind K and S was the cutest guy (Like, totes, OMG!) But really, he had a super-sweet smile and to be honest, he looked a little bit like 'Jon'. I was smitten. 

Now, we all know I hate taking risks and I'm terrible at talking to guys. I am also trying to get over my I-should-be-wooed-and-was-not-made-to-woo thing, because when it's been 6 years since any kind of wooing has happened anywhere near me, it's probably time to do something. (Although I still think it'd be nice for some guy to take the initiative and sweep me off my feet...but I digress). So after a long discussion (where S pointed out there was a reason I had changed my clothes), we decided that somehow this guy was going to get my number. My friends gave me a choice: I could give it to him myself or they would give it to him for me. So I wrote my name and number on a napkin, and as we were leaving the restaurant, I kinda tossed it at him and muttered 'My friends are making me do this' and ran away. 

But I did it!

Do I think he'll actually call me? Not a chance. Do I regret it? Probably a little, but I'm never going to see him again, so it's okay (and if I do, we have a funny story of how we met!)

At least the day ended up being something other than the day a 4-year-old bit me (it's not like my day could've gotten worse anyway).

Is it Ironic?

The thing about Alanis Morissettes' song Ironic is that nothing in that song is actually ironic, it just all kind of sucks.
There is absolutely nothing ironic about having "10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife". Isn't it inconvenient? I guess the irony is that it isn't ironic at all. And if that's the way we're thinking, I guess I could call what happened the other day at Target 'ironic' (when really, it just kinda sucked).
I need to preface this by telling you a little bit about 'Stacy'. Stacy was a girl I went to Jr. High and High School with. She was pretty and popular and (in the words of my dance teacher) a bit of a 'witchie-poo with a b'. As an early teen, I was awkward, I was naive and I was too small. I wasn't allowed to wear blue nail polish (which was totes, like, the height of coolness), and nothing I wore was a brand name. I actually wore clothes from the children's section until I was 15, because, as my mom said, "the clothes fit and they're cheaper". I had few friends and Stacy made sure to point all of this out to me on a regular basis.
So flash forward 10 years later, and I see Stacy and her fiance registering for wedding gifts at Target. Who would have thought?
Then Stacy pretended like we were actually friends or acquaintances or whatever (I'm guessing more for the fiance's sake then for mine). And then the question I dread being asked nowadays: "So what are you up to?" I mean, I'm wearing cut-offs and my Color Run t-shirt at Target in the middle of the day, so clearly I've got a lot going on in my life right now. (Okay, I was shopping for supplies for a BBQ, so things aren't terrible). Plus, I love my job, teaching preschool is wonderful, so I try to focus on that. But there's still that whole dirt-broke-and-single-living-with-my-parents thing that I love bragging about so much. I just went right back to feeling like that awkward naive little girl with the wrong clothes and always two steps behind everyone else in the growing up department.
It figures.

Cat-astrophe

I've spent the last five nights cat-sitting. I have never really been what you'd call a 'cat person', but the past few days have really been a learning experience for me. 

I learned (while scooping kitty litter) that there is very little I won't do for money.

I learned that I'm mildly allergic to cats. Probably. (The watery eyes, stuffy nose and scratchy throat may have been a coincidence...but I doubt it!)

I learned that cats are weird. They will walk all over your face when you're trying to sleep but the second the alarm goes off...bam! there is a soft, warm little ball of fur on your chest, and it's not moving. 

I learned that I will never own a cat. Ever.

Also, the people whose cats I was watching were supposed to be home yesterday afternoon...but they weren't. They decided to stay away longer, and they didn't feel the need to let me know this? Cats and cat people...I'm tellin' ya! Sheesh!

I scream, you scream...

I love ice cream. I really really love it! One of the 'house rules' I had in my apartment was: if you want ice cream, you go get ice cream. (Some of the other rules included staying in jammies until at least 10 on Saturdays and never turning off the TV or changing the channel during a Law & Order: SVU marathon)

But...back to the ice cream thing. I really wanted ice cream tonight. I needed to work on church stuff, but I knew I wasn't going to get any real work done as long as I had ice cream on the brain. So I hopped in the car and drove myself to 31 Flavors. Let me tell you, 31 is a lot of flavors to have to chose from. I narrowed it down to two: cotton candy, and my 'usual' a flavor called icing on the cake. I couldn't choose. I 'eenie meenie miny moe-d', but ultimately, there was really only one right answer: both. Both was good. Both was the best decision I ever made without actually having to make a decision.

My life is exhilarating!

Life is what happens.

Whether you're busy making other plans or not...life just keeps happening.

Sometimes life happens when you get to go wedding dress shopping with your sister. I was so glad to get to be a part of that! It was an experience that included waking up at 5am, trying to get a peek at the Starbucks drive-through guy from the passenger seat of my mom's car (all I could tell was that he had a cute chin), and sitting in a chair (& occasionally on the floor) as my sister tried on well over a dozen dresses at two different bridal shops. But all of it was more than worth it to get to see the look on my sister's face when she walked out of the dressing room in 'the dress'. I can't describe it, there was just this glow on her face!! The dress is beautiful...and just so 'her'! Life happened.

Sometimes life happens when your pants rip. Right up the seam of your back pocket. While you're at work...that's when this happens:

Yeah, I patched them...and my co-workers agree with my decision to do so. Why get rid of a pair of jeans because there is a rip in them? Especially when I can make them somewhat perfectly decent-ish again. There is no point in buying a brand-new pair of pants so I can sit in a sand box. It is a total waste of money. If I am going to buy new pants, I am not going to sacrifice them by exposing them to glitter, glue, paint, snot, peanut butter and bleach water! Life happened.

Sometimes life happens when you're cruising down the road going 38 mph on your way home from work:

If this little pink slip of paper doesn't look at all familiar to you, consider yourself lucky! This is what a speeding ticket looks like. I thought I was driving at a perfectly respectable speed...I didn't realize I was going through a school zone. Suddenly, my 'perfectly respectable speed' is 13mph over the speed limit. Now I have to go through traffic school and all the blah blah blah that comes from not paying close enough attention.

Life happened!

A Closet Full of Nothing to Wear...

Every morning I go through the same routine:

After hitting the snooze more times then I should, I wander out to the kitchen for some coffee...then go back to my room to decide what to wear. This is probably the hardest decision of my day. I have plenty of clothes, and my options are far from limited. However, when I look at my clothes in regards to what I'm wearing to work I have to ask myself a series of questions such as: "Do I care if I get paint on these pants?" "Do I care if I get snot on this shirt?" "Do I really want to stand in the sand box in these shoes?" Answering 'no' to one or more of these questions really limits my choices. I have about two or three complete outfits that I am willing to sacrifice by wearing them to work.

First world problems, I know...

"You're not a girl" and other preschool gems

Preschoolers have so much to teach us adults. Their unique methods have taught me so many new things: I learned that police ociffers wear unicorns. I learned that Jesus probably didn't have a TV when he was born because the barn would make it dirty and there was no 'tricity in the stable. I learned that you can only call 911 if there's a mergency. And I learned that glue is way more fun when you put it on both sides of the paper. I have been educated about army mans, princesses, transformers and where babies come from (the baby store, of course...you can even pick out whichever one you want).

Today I learned a very important lesson...I'm a teacher. Not a girl.

We were sitting down for circle, and because I have some very...um...energetic boys in my class, I usually have them sit boy, girl, boy, girl to break up the...enthusiasm. Well, one little boy didn't want to sit by a girl. He promised to make good choices if I let him sit by his friends. He said he would be a good listener. I told him he could sit by a girl or he could come sit by me. He chose to sit by me...which was a good choice. He listened to the story, and I let him help me turn the pages. Later, I said to him "You didn't want to sit by a girl, but you sat by me. I'm a girl." His response? "No. You're not a girl. You're a teacher."

Yeah...that seems about right.

White Horse

I may be 25 years old...but I'm convinced that there is a teenager inside of me. And she listens to Taylor Swift!! My inner teenager relates to TSwizzle's music and feels as though these songs were written specifically for me. My outer adult realizes that this is ridiculous and is slightly ashamed to share an iTunes account with the younger version. I like her sassy 'I don't need you' songs, I like her fun, upbeat 'I have a crush on you' songs, and I like her 'I love you, but you love someone else' songs...like this one:

Are adults not allowed to have or express these feelings? Are teenage girls the only ones allowed to be sulky and moody (or sassy or upbeat or whatever) when it comes to boys? I guess by now, as an adult my life (which one would assume includes my 'love life') should be more together than this...

It's not

'Cause this ain't a fairytale

It's my life!

Who's That Girl?

Five episodes in, and I am hooked on the new Fox series New Girl. At times, I think this show is partially based on my life. Essentially, it is about a girl who is quirky and weird, and likes being quirky and weird, and through her quirkiness and weirdness ends up being pretty adorable (or in the show's word: 'a-dork-able'). I can totally relate to the main character, Jess, because being adorable is my thing! People are always saying things to me like, "Oh, you're a preschool teacher, that's adorable." "You have a crush on a guy, you're too cute." And yeah, working with 3 and 4 year olds is super cute. Especially when instead of napping (like they're supposed to), they kick you, hit you, laugh at you and make you so frustrated that you cry*. And I'm not sure why but somehow my having a crush on a guy who probably will never feel the same way seems 'cute' to my married friends. Yes, sometimes I think my life is just too cute for me to handle. Doing all the quirky and weird and 'adorable' things I do every day is exhausting. It's actually pretty hard work being this adorable all the time....but I guess someone's gotta do it.

(What can I say?)

*To be fair, that was an isolated incident...I really do love my job

Working Girl

Four months have gone by and I still haven't found a job, which is really a bummer. However, a couple years ago when I was in a similar situation, I was able to pick up a few subbing jobs at a preschool. I got to play with cute little kids for a few hours and get a nice little check at the end of the month. Well...a call from the preschool director and a re-instating of my fingerprints and I've got my 'gig' back as an on-call preschool aide.

I get to work about 30 or so hours this month. Yeah, not a TON, but way better than nothing at all! I get opportunities to leave the house. I get a few dollars for my bank account. And possibly the best part, is the preschoolers themselves. I love how these little three and four year olds can tell that you're there to care for them and care about them. If you love them, they will love you back. They will crawl into your lap and then ask your name. These little sweethearts feel so comfortable with you that they will even use your arm to wipe their nose. Yes...that happened to me today.

And the crazy thing is...I still want to be a preschool teacher. I have decided that that's what I want to be when I 'grow-up'. Starting this spring I'm going to be taking Early Childhood Education classes. I just wish I'd realized this before. Like when I was still in college. So I wouldn't have to spend more money on my education...especially since I haven't finished paying for my first diploma yet.

Oh well...

Oh! What a (not so) Beautiful Morning...

I've been house-sitting for the past few days, and it's been really nice to have a place to myself, about an hour away from my folks' house. Well...that is until this morning. When I locked myself out of the house. In my nightgown.

I went out to give the doggies their breakfast, and apparently, the back door automatically locked behind me. Beautiful. Now I'm in my nightie, my phone is inside, and I don't know ANYONE in Fresno. So I did the only logical thing I could think of. I hopped the gate so I could be in the front yard. I waited until someone came jogging by, flagged him down, and asked if I could use his cell phone (now, if my life were a TV show, he would have been cute and in his mid-to-late twenties; but because this is my life and not Rachel Green's, he was in his 40s and kinda gross). Then I did what I always do in a crisis. I called my mommy since her's is one of the few numbers I actually have memorized...and she used to work with the mother/mother-in-law of the people whose dogs I'm watching. I asked her to call her friend to come rescue me somehow...

Then, I hopped the gate again and waited. And waited. And threw the ball around for the dogs. And waited. And then my beautiful sister (whom I love dearly) begrudgingly came by with the key so I could finally (after two and a half hours) get back in the house.

Does this stuff actually happen to other people? Or is it just me? Cause if it's just me, then other people are totally missing out on feeling like constant screw-ups!

I'm in the market...

There are precious few non-towny, twentysomething, attractive, single guys in the town where I currently live. But I saw this guy at the grocery store today who seemed to be all of the above...he wasn't dressed like a towny, he actually looked like he could be in my age bracket and he wasn't wearing a ring (yeah, I snuck a peek at his left hand.)

This is one of those instances where I wish my life were a scripted TV show, we would both be reaching for the same apple and our eyes would meet and I'd say something witty and...Bam! He becomes a story arc in the sitcom of of my life. That is so much better than what really happened: I saw him getting milk out of the dairy case and then walk up to the 15 items or less lane...

...

Had the following conversation with one of my kids tonight during a game of Apples to Apples:
Student "why are these cards so sticky?"
Me "because I let high schoolers play my games"
Student "Oh..."

This is my life.

Heads Carolina

It's the third Thursday of the month, which can only mean one thing...NETWORK LUNCH!!
I love network lunch day! Once a month, I get together with a handful of other youth directors in the Channel Islands conference of the Southern California Synod of the ELCA and we eat, talk about life and ministry and commiserate with each other about how junior high kids can be little punks sometimes.
There is something about talking to people who have the same job as you that just clicks. I can talk to my friends about work all I want...but until you can share in the frustration of planning a totally cool event and having no one show up for it, or having to scramble at the last minute to find a male chaperone for a lock-in...you just can't 'get' my job.
That, and some of my friends think I'm certifiably insane to opt to spend my time with teenagers...
I love all my friends dearly, but the network...them's my peeps!
And once a year all the youth directors of all the conferences of all the synods of all the regions of the ELCA are invited to one big party called 'The Extravaganza'. Which is awesome-sauce.
You get to learn about how to teach young'uns about 'that Jesus guy' and how to be good at your job. Plus, it's good renewal for those of us who spend most waking hours with students to have a week of being an adult around other adults. Fun adults. Who act like teenagers...
Last year the 'E' was in Charlotte, NC...and it was my first one ever and it was amazing and I loved it and I can't wait to go to the next one.
And I have a point, I promise...
I bought this mug at the airport...ha!
...yeah...not a very good point...

This is my life

I just had one of the biggest 'yup, this is my life' moments.
I'm sitting on the ground gluing 25 'Lord's Prayers' to 25 3x5 pieces of construction paper and I have to get them done for my children's message tomorrow at church...I just finished and now I have to go and get ready for a wedding tonight. Ah--the glamorous-ness of me!! That, and it's going to take me the next two hours to transform from youth director to wedding guest...meaning I have to do my hair and make-up and put on a dress. In short, I have to be a grown-up. It'll be nice to play grow-up for the night though.
A little over a week ago, I chopped about two inches of my hair off...I think now that I'm almost half-way into my twenties, I need to start owning up to this whole 'adulthood' thing...I mean, I have a grown-up apartment, I drive a grown-up car and now I have a grow-up haircut...I guess it's official...I'm a grown-up

Frightening!