County fair lessons, parenting addition

I’m writing this in the middle of our county fair, which means I don’t know what day it is or where I am. I’m one day away from everyone in my family running out of clean underwear, and my vehicle looks and smells like a neglected teenager’s room. The chaos of the week is something you can’t explain, only experience.

The county fair was a highlight of my childhood. The nostalgia of it all is something I talk about often with my kids. However, fair time as a parent is a whole different ballgame. The magic that existed as a kid is replaced by anxiety and overstimulation as an adult. I can go from feeling pride and joy to frustration and disappointment faster than the food stand can fry a batch of cheese curds.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love the fair, but I long to go back to those carefree days as a kid when my concerns were mostly about how to talk my grandma into buying us more mini donuts or what carnival rides I was going to tackle.

Now, it’s keeping track of what time and what place everyone needs to be, juggling the clothing situation and balancing the multitude of duties I need to fulfill. Not only am I parenting at the fair, but I’m also doing all the dairy exhibitor things, putting out fires and making things happen as a fair board member and trying not to have things completely fall apart on the home front.

Each year involves a new learning curve. I have found that parenting fair kids requires a delicate balance of light encouragement and forceful direction. It’s toeing the line on offering guidance while knowing I need to let them make mistakes. It’s balancing what to let them do on their own with what needs to be done in a timely manner.

As someone who thrives on efficiency, this has been a hard state of mind for me to change. My siblings and I can crush morning fair chores in no time. We have become so fluent together that we don’t even need to speak to one another; we just move about, getting things done. However, my kids want to help; letting them take part in the experience means chores can take twice as long. My patience is severely tested, and some of the tasks are completed subpar.

On the other hand, I see other families with older kids who have already made it through the trenches of those younger years. Their kids are confident, capable individuals who are doing the work themselves. They have successes and they have failures.

I hope to raise kids who can see what needs to be done without asking but are also not afraid to ask questions, challenge the process or take the risk to try something new. I’ve always been a creature of habit, but I pray my boys venture beyond the comforts of the status quo.

I hope they see the value of putting in the work, even if things don’t always turn out in their favor. I know that lesson can come with disappointment and heartbreak.

Through the sleep deprivation, stress and chaos, I’m trying to remember that this is all part of the process. No kid is made into a hard-working, respectful adult without failure, discipline and pitfalls in their youth.

Right now, chores may take twice as long, directions may have to be said more than once, things are sometimes forgotten or done incorrectly and I may raise my voice and lose my patience more than I want. I hope all those things lead to days where my kids are tackling things on their own and the fair becomes something they look back on fondly for all of it, the good and the bad.

Now to spend the next week recovering, which means tackling endless loads of laundry, transitioning my stomach back to normal foods and sneaking in a nap or two.

Jill is a stay-at-home mom who helps part time on her family’s 140-cow dairy farm near Forest City, Minnesota. She and her husband, Aaron, have two children: Hayes and Nash.