Saturday, June 16, 2018

Two Weeks on a Farm

Two weeks, 3 boys, and a farm.  What a perfect equation for happiness.   There is nothing like summer on the farm and each summer is unique as the boys change.  Nerf guns are always a hit, as are the chickens and Grandma’s farm cats, Little Bit and Big Boy.  Chicken eggs, camping and biking were new to the mix this year!  

Minnows and a monster tadpole were also included in the minagere of farm pets this year.  Fastie Tad Tadpole (named by John) was corralled in the creek on Day 1.  He spent the next two weeks confined in either a five gallon bucket or a kiddie pool, being hand fed fish food Grandma passed off as tadpole food.  The farm cats took particular interest in Fastie early on, which led to him becoming a tadpole refugee on the enclosed back porch.  Fastie’s freedom was won at the end of two weeks, thanks to my insistance that Colorado tadpoles are of a different species and Fastie wouldn’t be suited to the high dessert climate of Colorado😂.  The boys reluctantly bought this tall tale and Grandma chauffeured the trio of Jacob, John and Fastie to the Ledges for a final goodbye.  Grandma said she had never seen two more forlorn-looking boys😭.  

Also new this summer was camping out with Grandpa in the treehouse!   The stakes were high—for this was the treehouse of my childhood built in the tree my Grandma planted as a girl.  All manner of sleeping bags, pillows and snacks were involved, as were box fans and padding for Grandpa.   Night 1 was such a hit that the boys and Grandpa (adding more padding to his bedroll) opted to camp out the next night too—through a thunderstorm no less!  Grandpa secured a special spot in heaven, but more importantly in the boys’ hearts.  

The brave backyard campers 

All this fun didn’t come without a cost, and this year it was man-eating mosquitos and nasty black nats.  Jacob and I seemed to contract the biggest bites, or maybe they just itched the most?  One thing about Iowa—there is no lack of concoctions to ward off mosquitos.  Victoria’s Secret’s vanilla body spray is always a go-to.  The first weekend found Grandpa measuring out a mixture of mouthwash, salt and water, running it through the blender, and spraying it around the yard.  Fareway, the local grocer, was also stocking a new product we lovingly referred to as “the brown bottle bug spray” which was the far and away winner!  Everyone was talking about the brown bottle—even the librarian recommended it when I shared my bug bite woes.  

Rivaling the bugs were the storms.  There’s nothing I love more than a good Iowa thunderstorm, but this year’s storms pushed the envelope of enjoyment with their frequency and intensity.  We had 5 days of thunderstorms in a row.  A Colorado-like hail storm left us pacing on the front porch as we watched the trees, garden, fields, and my car take a beating.  A few days later it was torrential rains, which left roads and fields flooded.  My respect for farmers and fear of the storms only grew as I read about and EF5 tornado which struck the local farm town of Jordan 50 years earlier.  The entire town and surrounding farms were destroyed.  The anniversary of the tornado had everyone remembering; my Grandparents stood outside and watched from about 3 miles away, and then Grandpa helped with the cleanup.  There’s no doubt that Iowans are a sturdy and big-hearted folk.

A big part of every trip home is reconnecting with these sturdy, big-hearted people of my youth.  The boys got to meet my lunch lady, Mrs. Tripp, who ran the United Community School kitchen like a great general.  We also bumped into Mrs. Good, my junior high English teacher, at the grocery store.  She assured the boys their mommy was so much fun and received blank stares in return.  We had a game of bowling with my childhood friend and her kids, ran into a sorority sister at the pool, a few high school classmates at a different pool, had picnics with both sides of the family, swimming with cousins, and Friday night pizza at Great Grandpa Erb’s house with Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins.

The kids bowled, while Jessica and I chatted up a storm


These cousins love the old fire truck at Brookside Park

Our favorite people who get the biggest hugs are cousin Ella (age 20 months) who found her cousins intriguing and exhibited a marked shift in behavior when in their presence, trading dolls for guns and soft spoken words for shrieks of enthusiasm.  

Playing crack the egg

Kenny pushing Ella through the puddles at the Ledges

Great Grandpa is another favorite.  We bring him endless entertainment and sore ears (the last thing a hearing aid-wearing person needs is a trio or rowdy boys nearby!)  He leaves us with a sugar high (his candy dish is never empty) and great quips for the boys’ childhood.  News of a lost tooth is always met with Great Grandpa’s response, “You’ve been kissin’ girls again!?”

Grandma and Grandpa are our all-time favorite Iowans.  They stock the cupboards with tasty treats and the yard with fun toys.  They’re always up for listening to elementary jokes/riddles, and they never tire of cuddling up for a kid’s movie.  They bike and boat and wade to give their grandsons adventures and nurture a love for the place we all love—the fruited plains of Iowa.  

Biking the High Bridge trail from Madrid to Woodward

Catching minnows at the Ledges State Park


Tuesday, June 05, 2018

When the Tooth Fairy FAILS!

School is out.  Summer travel has started, and with it comes an acceleration of losing teeth.  The Bolthouse Boys seem to have a propensity for losing teeth on the road.  We’ve had three lost teeth on camping trips and about five at Grandma’s House.  As if traveling as a family of five isn’t stressful enough, I find myself having to play tooth fairy on the road.

Of all the responsibilities that accompany motherhood, the tooth fairy is one that has eluded me.  The tales I have spun to explain away the Bolthouse Tooth Fairy’s failures would impress even Mark Twain.  It goes something like this....

Bolthouse boy loses tooth.  Tooth is placed under pillow (in tent, or other non-home bed).  Tooth Fairy (aka MOM) forgets to swipe the tooth and plant the money.  Bolthouse Boy awakens, disappointed at presence of tooth and absence of money.  Bolthouse Boy expresses disappointment to Mom.  Bolthouse Mom seamlessly makes up excuse explaining away the Tooth Fairy’s failure, usually something like, “Oh no!  The Tooth Fairy probably went to our house.  She’ll find you tonight!”😬.  Bolthouse Mom then spends the remainder of the day startled by the thought of yet again failing at the role of Tooth Fairy.  

There are variations to the above story.  One time the Grandma Tooth Fairy left money without removing the tooth, expecting the Mommy Tooth Fairy to finish the job.  Of course the M.T.F. completely forgot and a confused Bolthouse Boy wanted to know why he had money and a tooth under his pillow.  This introduced the idea of a tooth fairy for each state, along with statutes for which tooth fairy gets to keep the tooth.  It all seemed like a great cover until the Colorado Tooth Fairy couldn’t find the tooth on the second night, assumed it lost, and planted the money only to have a toothless Bolthouse Boy find the “lost” tooth under his bed the next day.  

Each tooth lost leaves the Bolthouse Tooth Fairy fewer chances to get it right.  But I’m thinking the two-night Tooth Fairy method will just be the norm in our family.  Other Tooth Fairies sprinkle glitter and leave elaborate notes with their money....our Tooth Fairy can be known as directionally challenged.  It seems a logical explanation for a family always on the go!?

Whew—I can finally sleep soundly tonight—right after I replace the latest lost tooth with $2.  Waiting three nights for the tooth fairy would surely drive the toothless Bolthouse Boy into counseling!

And just to be sure Mommy/Colorado Tooth Fairy is on task, Grandma/Iowa Tooth Fairy left a little reminder on the bed😂


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