This post has nothing to do with the size of my house.
Although, the title would technically apply IF this post WERE about my house. We definitely live in a little house, and behind us lies a big patch of woods.
But that's not the point.
The point IS, is that I am feeling rather pioneer-ish this evening, hence the "Laura Ingalls Wilder" inspired title.
I have decided to embark on our yearly excursion to a church sponsored campmeeting up in TN. It's not called a "campmeeting" because people go native and hang out in tents singing "Kum-By-Ya"---but rather, because we all hang out in our Sunday best and sing much more inspired things like "Amazing Grace" under one BIG tent. See the difference?
And at this particular campmeeting (as opposed to perhaps some others), I like to take the experience one step further and play snail for the week---ie: take my camper. So, it turns out to be a mixed endevour for me: half "Oregon Trail", half Appalacian Trail.
And tonight, especially, I am really feeling a pioneer woman's pain.
In order to get ready to spend an entire week away from my Little House, I have to plan and pack. Pack and plan. Pray I don't forget anything. It's a fairly complex, yet methodical, routine of deciding what to take, how to take it, and what I'll use it for. In general, we take the entire House---minus the sink, of course.
So today, whilst perusing the vast recesses of the laundry pile, I determined that my children are really getting into the pioneering spirit themselves. The boys, especially. For as I examined their once fine finery, I have noticed (much to my chagrin) that finally the finery isn't so fine.
In modern terms, their pants have holes in them!
And thankfully, the pants I am referring to are NOT their super fine finery (ie: church clothes), or they'd REALLY be sitting in a hornet's nest right now. No, the pants I am pioneering over are their "play pants."
And here is the dilemna:
Who really cares if PLAY clothes have holes in them? I mean, isn't that part of the package? Don't we almost buy the stuff WITH holes in them and just care less much of the time? Anything worth playing in is worth ruining, is my sons' motto. They aren't allowed to step foot off the property with them anyhow, so who cares a flying fig if they're rubbed up on the knees and the pockets are hanging off?
Well, I certainly don't.
Except, of course, when said "play pants" venture OUTSIDE of the property lines and make their grand debut in the world of Sunday Best.
Which brings me to my pioneering woes. In order for me to feel comfortable allowing Lewis and Clark to wear something appropriate to play in whilst we are roughing it up in TN, I need to make their pants look all nice and new-ish again.
Oh! The agony!
Fix PLAY PANTS?!?? What is wrong with this picture people?!?
Because you know it's generally just an embarrassment thing. I don't like my kids to look unkept because it's a reflection on me. Which, in all fairness, they DON'T look unkept in any circumstance outside of tree forts and mud puddles here at the house. But to be out in public with ratty play clothes is just mortifying. Straight up horrifying.
So I did what all good pioneer mothers do: I stitched up them holes with a needle and thread. By HAND!! People--this is archaic!!
AND I felt utterly stupid for doing it.
Especially since I know they will tear them out as soon as we get there.
Like I said: agony, mortification, and pioneering spirit all rolled up into one evening. Stay tuned---there's more packing to be had....