Wouldn’t You Like To Be A Carny Too?

 

 

 

Last Friday was the elementary schools Fall Carnival.   A bake sale, school store to gear up in blue and a wide variety of booths for all ages and skill levels we put on by the teachers and grade levels.  All the money earned goes directly to that classroom or special.   I still don’t know what a flaming chicken is.  (Name of one of the booths.)

 

 

 

Thanks to a generous donation of food from the local grocer, the P.T.A. was able to supply dinner for the masses and use 100% of the proceeds to improve the school and various programs like the Library, P.E. and Music departments.

 

 

David and Devin had been prepping for months learning and practicing their balloon twisting skills.  The line went on for what seemed like forever.  Devin was our sword man, he couldn’t twist them out fast enough.  Dave was left with the other critters which were mostly flowers, dragonflies and monkeys.  By the time the evening ended, they had made over 160 finished balloons that were paid for and countless others he twisted for fun.  Apparently, twisty balloons were a big hit and they plan on tying up the Spring Fling.  I guess we’re carnies now. 

 

There was also a raffle that night with some really cool prizes.  Lucky me, I won two of them.  The first was a family fun night at a local restaurant (like Chuck E. Cheeses) including free pizza, drinks, rides and game tokens.  The Farmers are totally stoked; I just might save that one for a rainy day – to save my sanity when cabin fever gets to be too much.  I had my fingers crossed for the second prize, a $25 gift certificate to a fancy-pants salon.  I figured I could use some pampering, though I have know idea what to use it on.    A haircut maybe?  Dye?  Mani-pedi?  Eyebrow wax?  Facial skin peel?  On second thought, that doesn’t sound so relaxing.   Anyway, score one for the G’s at the carnival.

 

 

See, we’re looking like a bunch of cranies already!

A Thousand Words

 

 

I’ve been busy.  Sick.  Busy.  Farmer sick, crafty busy, another Farmer sick, sewing busy.  Sick and busy seems to be the lot of it lately.

 

I was finishing up edits on some photos in my office last week about the time the two youngest farmers were due home from school.  Miss Is marched up stairs and begged me to help her (this was frantic pleading actually, and it involved a little knocked knee dance).  Frustrated by the frequency of this same scenario day after day, I stuck to my stubborn guns and refused to tag along merely as a spectator.

 

The dance continued wildly until she gave into whatever it was stopping her and rushed into the upstairs bathroom.  Did I feel bad to hear her simper?  No.  Am I an awesome mother?  No.   Would I do it again? You bet’cha!  But don’t be fooled by all the tough talk, I felt the pangs of guilt as the dam broke.

 

Once the deed was done, hands washed and pretty pink princess panties no longer in knots, she came back in without a word.  “See, you don’t need me.”  Congratulating her success – and mine too – I finished up the last photo.  “Umph.” was all I got in return.   Apparently Miss Is was busy too on the opposite side of the desk with a scrap piece of paper and a very pink highlighter.

 

A few moments later, she rounded the corner and with all the attitude a six year old diva can muster she showed me this and said very sweetly, “This is what I thought of you yesterday…”

 

(The only thing missing is the meadow of wildflowers I’m skipping in.)

 

 

“And this is what I think of you today.”  The tone was no longer sweet.  Is then proceeded to flip it at me and storm out of the room, slamming the door with extra gusto behind her to drive the point home and in her mind, the dagger deeper.

 

 

(Fire and brimstone or a dark, dreary castle in Transylvania?)

 

 

I laughed.  Hysterically.  I almost had to do the same knocked-knee dance that got us into this mess in the first place.  I wanted a daughter and oh boy did I get one!  She didn’t have to yell at me, call me names, tell me how much she doesn’t like me or how she doesn’t want me to be her mother anymore.  All she had to do was draw me this, it’s worth more than a thousand words and definitely a few giggles too.