The F***ing Fair

There are many things I love to anticipate about the fall – going back to school, the beautiful weather, cozy sweaters and of course, the return of the fall fair.  I love the fair; at least, I used to love the fair.  Actually, I’m sure I will love the fair again as it approaches next fall but not right now. Right now I am tired, dizzy and broke. I’ve been smacked in the face with the reality of the fair not the family bonding; relive my childhood kind of fair I build up in my mind every year.

There is something nostalgic about the fair though. It never changes. You can count on the same rides and games and carnies.  The candy apples, cotton candy and caramel corn have tasted the same for some 30 odd years at least (kind of a scary thought actually).  I can remember going with my parents and sisters, then with my friends without parental supervision and then back from university to meet up with old friends and now with my own kids. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? 

This sense of nostalgia for the fair leaves me underprepared to handle the physical and emotional demands that the fair puts on me and all other parents. At times, I have no idea where one or more of my kids have run off to. While looking for my kids I am simultaneously helping one of my friends look for her misplaced child.  I am feeding my one and half year old whole hot dogs with no concern for the fact the she may choke or that maybe a hot dog isn’t the best meal choice for a baby in the first place. 

I have spent at least fifty dollars on tickets and know it’s not going to be enough.  I swat off carnies practically grabbing my kids into their games. But because you can’t leave the fair without letting your kid win a prize I throw my money at the ones that say “prize every time” and anticipate the look of disbelief on my kids face when instead of winning one of the GIGANTIC prizes hanging from the ceiling they win an unrecognizable and miniscule stuffed something or other.

And just when you think it can’t get any worse or any busier or any more stressful, the kids start getting tired.  And there is nothing worse than an overstimulated, junk food filled, tired child. Now one kid is crying, one is yelling at me and oh, there’s another one crying.  Wow. Do they even appreciate all of the MONEY I JUST SPENT ON THEM?

The joyful sounds of excitement and happiness that filled the house before the fair have been replaced by the crying and screaming of everyone in the car on the way home, including me.  Once home, we pull ourselves together, get tucked into bed with our new stuffed something or others and talk about what a great time we had at the fair. Without fail, someone always asks, “Can we go back tomorrow?” and the cycle of loving, hating and loving the fair is complete.