Saturday

 I woke up at 5 a.m. and went downstairs,  thinking I'd rest a bit on the couch before I get up at 6:00 to work. "Oh, hi Dad!" pronounced a too-perky five year old voice. "Oh it's you. I thought it was Dad's Getting Up Time. Did you know it's still dark outside? We're the only ones up. That means we get to have Private Snuggles.  We've NEVER had Private Snuggles before." Kid, seriously.  It's Very Early. Sure, I'll snuggle. 

After a bit, it was market time. Our last market of the season.  It's bittersweet,  because we love our customers.  But we work hard and we are tired. We didn't really want to be at market. But because we were at market,  we know that A is moving and B is traveling to Hawaii soon, and C has an ulcer and D rented a golf cart to give the grandkids a ride and E is going to a funeral and F was at a funeral. 

G ordered a wrap with no steak because she's having trouble with her teeth. "Brush those teeth every day!" she instructed our 7 year old son, who was working the cash box like a pro. Then she wandered over to watch the jazz guitarist and listen to the saxophone, because she hasn't heard jazz since she's in Iowa. She lost herself in the music,  so we just delivered her wrap to her. She came back for napkins, then went to the bench next to the musicians and sat there the entire morning,  soaking in the music.

H was super impressed with his half dollar, and plans to use it as a ball marker in golf. I, on the other hand, wasn't a customer at all, but a boy with curly hair, about nine years old, who brought a bag with five potatoes from his Grandma's booth. "HEY, CAN I SELL YOU THESE POTATOES? THEY'RE $1.50-- unless you want to give me a tip." Sure, I'll buy potatoes from a cute kid. I gave him a dollar bill and a fifty cent piece. "What kind of fifty cents is this??" He eyed it skeptically.  "Can I just have two quarters?" I didn't give him a tip, but I wish I had.  He was an ambitious little salesman.

J bought three sandwiches to take back to the shop, where he and his brothers were going through a semi that was recently purchased,  making sure it is road worthy.

K told how he had a surprise visitor from Red Lake. L bought a $6 sandwich and left a $5 tip. 

M was another vendor, who had a "Pupcake" food truck, where people bought treats for their dogs. At least one dog even posed for a pic in her truck's serving window! She educated us on all the steps she has to take to take to legally sell dog treats in Iowa. 

N is recovering from a hand injury from an incident on the farm. "At least I get to drive the combine now!" 

Customers O-Z never showed up, because they were watching the football game.

We left market at 2:04. We stopped at Yotty's for a thank you treat for our son for his willing help. 

On the way home, Craig said, "Shall we go to Leon tonight instead of tomorrow?" We calculated that if we could leave by 4:30, we could be at visitation before 8, and hopefully see the people we wanted to connect with, rather than waiting until tomorrow and sitting through the funeral but not having a chance to talk to people. 

We got home at 2:32. We got out of the trailer the things that need to be gotten out. Craig fed the 33 baby calves their milk and got his things and himself ready. I ran a load of dishes and a load of laundry. T packed bedding and clothes for himself and all his siblings. Grandma returned the other kids at 4:00. I made sure everyone had shoes.

We left at 4:35. We ordered pizza and a salad to pick up at Casey's halfway there. We got the whole crew out and traipsed into the store for a potty break. We were a motley crew, really, with outfits ranging from t shirt and jeans to red plaid jammies with green chore boots. 

We arrived at the church for the visitation at 7:37. Uncle Mikie and Aunt Brenda brought Mom's vehicle and traded for ours, still full of children. 

We were those annoying people who came right before visitation closes, and stayed for an hour, right when the family Really Wants To Go Home. 

Barbara, the 96 year old whose life was being remembered, feels to me like the last person from the Leon church who has been "old" my entire life. Maybe it's because she became a widow the year I was born.

I don't feel like I actually knew her well myself. I remember her quilts, and her hospitality, and her reacting rewardingly when her grandsons teased her. But there are a lot of people whom we care about deeply, who are related to Barbara, so we wanted to go.

I heard some stories about Oklahoma days, where Amos was one of the exceptional people who believed in my dad, in spite of Dad's physical challenges, and trusted Dad with his farm equipment.  Joni said that he would stay at my Grandpa Joas's when his parents,  Amos and Barbara,  would go on trips. Now I want to hear more!

We left the visitation and finally made it to my mom's,  where we said hello to Uncle Jake and Aunt Anna Mary, and got all the kids, now on their third wind, settled down.

Then, we slept. 

It was a good, full day.

And I- well, I've enjoyed the interactions with all the people,  but it might take me a week to recover, so please pardon me, while I crawl into a hole and refuel for a bit. 

Boredom Busters

Our family recently conquered another weekend of cooking at the local Fall Festival. It's an intense marathon of preparation and then coordinating at the actual event so that people can Eat Good Beef and stuff.

One thing I'm constantly aware of is how our family business affects our family. One huge goal of using this means to support our family is that, in theory, we get to be with our kids more. In reality, with young children,  it's hard to make that the reality. 

So the best part of this year's Fall Festival for me was, after Fall Festival,  asking our boys what their favorite part of Fall Festival was, and hearing them say, each in their own way, that the best part of Fall Festival was being near their family. 

This year, we had a nice spot behind our booth where they could have some space to play and be creative.  I stocked up on some economical STEM kits for them to assemble, and they played games, listened to Adventures in Odyssey and fashioned games out of cardboard boxes. 

I sat back there to catch my breath for a bit, and admired a very large cardboard dice that they had made. "What inspired this?" I asked.  Another mom was relaxing back there, and she quickly responded with "Boredom."

Boredom is such a great opportunity. 

Thursday,  they were firefighters. Which was fine, until it involved a second floor rescue.

Friday,  finding themselves banished from the house for an hour (or they would face Torture By Nap) they quickly became electrical engineers and designed a porch light from miscellaneous items they found in the shop attic.

It's really very little wonder that I'm always in a subconscious state of near-worry. My hair turns more gray by the hour, as I attempt to keep up with the extreme levels of mental and physical energy on constant display around here. Craig's dad just grins and tells me it has only just begun.

One day this week,  we had a friend come at 7:00 a.m. to provide childcare so we could go to an appointment. She was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she sat, in awe-struck wonder, watching the buzz of energy surging through our house as the boys did their laundry and dishwasher responsibilities and hurried through their math, so they could get on with the Important Things. Like firefighting and stuff. "Are they always this wide awake at this time of the day?" Yup. Actually,  they're not allowed to come down before 6:00. That's when it starts. 

I try to provide them with productive things for their brains and bodies to stretch and strengthen and grow. 

And then, I give them the gift of Boredom. 

And from thence flows all the entertainment I could ever desire.