Iowa is “Awesome”

This isn’t really a blog about how awesome Iowa is (although how awesome Iowa is has been on my mind lately). We just got back from “Fall Break”, a week off of school that didn’t exist when I was a kid. I guess it’s part of the movement to make everything equal so nobody is disappointed or universally disappointed, I guess it depends on your motivation. I believe it is one of the vestiges of George Bush’s “no season left behind” legacy. I think next year my kids will have to go back to school for one week in July so summer doesn’t feel left out. Embracing the idea of an extra week of family time we decided on a family trip. We let them know it was their vacation so it was their choice. After shooting down Mexico (too expensive), Canada (too cold) and India (too India), we utilized a little passive directive parenting and our children chose Iowa for an autumn adventure (I think we gave them a choice of Iowa, the stockyards or a labor camp). It was our typical Iowa trip…7 days of driving to 53 towns and looking at 73 houses –C’mon, what’s not for a kid to love? After a million miles on the road and as much pastoral beauty as the law will allow, we returned late on a Sunday night and as we ushered our children into the cold dark house I asked my groggy son how he liked Iowa. “Iowa is awesome.” A single sentence whispered in a slumbered delirium sent my heart soaring. He was onboard. He would embrace the move. He would help me plow the forty acres. He would ride the mule. The farm house, the simple life, small town parades and golden crusted apple pies dance through my excited mind. I tucked him into bed, the moonlight casting a bright halo over my sleeping angel’s golden hair. My moment of bliss fast fading in anticipation of the mornings post road-trip tasks of laundering week old dank clothes and shop vacuuming cheetos from the Chevy Suburban’s numerous crevices, I drifted peacefully off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning back in the everyday. I had things to do and people to move. I asked Atticus if he wanted me to pack a lunch or if he wanted hot lunch. “Dad, your lunches are awesome.” I do pack a mean lunch – a state-of-the-art assemblage of a ham sandwich, juice bag, chips and fruit (I haven’t yet trademarked this combo yet but if you try it everyone will know it’s mine and there will be justice served in the stern looks you will receive from other Mom’s at the bus stop). He said Awesome! He loves my lunches! What a great Dad I am! I asked him if he was ready for the everyday grind to return. “School is awesome.” And he loves school too! What a great life we’ve made for our children. Such a great feeling it lasts all day, heck I barely even want to beat my children for all of the disgusting crap that found its way to the floor mats during the road trip – Is that a banana peel around a moldy hot dog? The car wash’s Monster Vac (although really it seemed of average size and power) request for another seventy five cents helped me decide to be on time to pick the kids up from school. I ask how it was back in the routine. “Awesome!” This kid has a great life. I let him know I need to stop and get dog food on the way home. “Awesome!” Okay, now I’m getting suspicious (I know you quit buying it the lunch bit). I get home and commence parenting. Hit your homework now and Mom can check it when she gets home and it will be perfect to turn in tomorrow. “Awesome.” Now my feelings are just plain hurt. This kid doesn’t want to move and lose his friends and grandparents. He doesn’t want to get up early and feed goats and milk chickens (I said I wanted a farmhouse, I never said I knew jack shit about it). I go into the kitchen and see if I can find something to cook as glum and my outlook (do I still have time to poach chicken and cream squash?) Luckily I can cook and wallow simultaneously. I feel little arms in a hug around my leg. Halo and freckles at hip height. “Dad, Iowa really is awesome.”

~Jeff