Lessons from the Fair

I survived the fair. There really should be a bumper sticker for this -- or at the very least, a flair button on Face Book. You know, a badge to wear proudly, to stick on my dirty, sweat-dampened shirt as testament, proof positive that I did it.

Each year, my kids become more involved with fair activities which translates to more time spent at the fairgrounds. This year it was Five. Days. Straight. Uh-huh. They entered 4-H projects. They worked the Children's Animal Barn (3 times). They performed in the 4-H musical (7 times). They participated in Performing Arts. They worked the 4-H Food Stand.

So, after spending more hours than I ever thought possible at our county's fairgrounds, I have decided to compile my experiences, to share my words of wisdom, lest you find yourself in the same position I was in (poor fools....)

#1. If you think an event will take one hour, plan for two. Or three. Or better yet, all day. The kids had several 4-H projects they turned in, all of which needed to be judged. Some of the lines were long -- you'd think there was a free screening of the newest Harry Potter movie. Actually it was better. See, each 4-H project translates into something every kid wants -- free money. Premiums. In our county, each completed project was worth anywhere from $2.00 - $3.00. Since the number of projects each kid could turn in was almost limitless, well...you do the math. It didn't matter how much money we parents had to shell out for tag board, glue sticks, ink cartridges, colored duct tape, printer paper, etc. (in our household, this easily topped out at almost a hundred dollars). I did, in fact, inquire what percentage of premiums I would be receiving from Hayley's profits....met by thin-lipped silence, of course.

But, I digress. The lines were long. Really, really long. So long that Hayley couldn't turn in all of her projects (a huge travesty since I'd already spent the money on supplies -- we weren't even going to make any money back on it! I suggested she save it for next year...) because we had tennis lessons to get to....and we'd already missed the first one a few days earlier....

So, don't plan any other scheduled activities for Judging Day and plan to be there all day. Truly.

#2. There is no such thing as healthy fair food. Oh, sure. There are stands that sell corn on the cob and fresh veggies, grilled meat and bottled water. Our 4-H food stand was one of them. And, believe me, I tried to eat healthy. I ordered the veggies and dip -- and gasped out loud at the quart of fat-laden ranch dressing that accompanied it. How am I supposed to resist that? It's sitting right next to my cauliflower and broccoli, practically begging me to eat it, daring me to dip those veggies in. As if I could resist. I salivated over the corn on the cob and was sorely tempted to order one -- until I saw Theresa drench those babies into a bath of melted butter. So much for healthy.

Another thing. Eating those healthy options lulls you into a false sense of security. As in, "Well, all I had for lunch was a tiny tray of veggies and dip. I can splurge on this ice cream cone. And cookies. And mini cinnamon donuts. And fresh strawberry-rhubarb pie. Come on, it has fruit in it!"

The better option is to just give in. Know, going into fair, that you will gain weight. And then eat those forbidden foods -- dive into the deep-fried funnel cakes and corn dogs, gorge yourself on cheese curds and ice cream floats. Hey, the fair only comes around once a year, right? You have the remaining 360 days to eat healthy (as long as you're good during birthdays and Thanksgiving and Christmas...)

#3. Choose your stance on the safety of carnival rides prior to the fair...and stick to it. Every year, there is some God-awful story about a child being flung from the ferris wheel or crushed by a runaway roller coaster. I'd never given it too much thought in relation to my life. I mean, yes, it's awful and I feel terrible for the families involved but they are, in fact, horrible freak accidents, not something to compulsively worry about. And even though I am prone to worrying obsessively over things that are unlikely to happen (sharks lurking at my feet every time I step into the ocean, anyone?), I am actually OK with rides. At least I was until we took a walk around the fairgrounds while the carnies were setting up.

OK. Did you know that those rides come apart? I'm not talking about four or five pieces -- some of them looked like Tinker Toy sets, waiting to be reassembled. And, honestly, I'm not sure the men putting those back together had the instructions. They were hauling out concrete bricks to position the kids coaster, duct taping parts of the Kamikaze together, wrapping rope around the banister to the steps of the Magic Slide. After I picked my jaw up off the ground, I turned to the kids and told them, in no uncertain terms, that rides were out this summer. Off limits. We'd be going to Disneyland in October, I told them. Far better to go on rides that didn't have to be disassembled every five days and hauled half-way across the country. Besides, I felt much better putting my trust in Cast Members and Disney Imagineers. I don't know why, but there is something...comforting...safe-feeling...about men who don't have facial hair and multiple piercings. You know, the Disney dress code.

Of course, my eight year-old son -- mini-lawyer in training and Disney fan extraordinaire -- was quick to point out recent Disney catastrophes. Monorail, anyone? Thunder Mountain crash a few years back? Was I just going to make everything off limits, he demanded? Driving in a car was dangerous -- people were injured in accidents every day. Would it be safer to walk to the fair? But then we might get hit by traffic. Maybe we should just stay home from the fair, he suggested.

I could only suffer through so much of his logic. I gave up. Gave in. One ride only. And next time, the Midway was off limits. We wouldn't even walk through that section of the fair. I would stand firm, be stern. Right.

I'm sure there's more. I'm sure there are other lessons I could share, other sage advice and words of wisdom I can pass on. But I'm too tired. I just spent Five. Days. Straight. At the fair.