Parental Comfort
On the last day of our NoDak trip, the day that was our longest driving day by far, both Maggie and my dad got sick. It wasn’t pretty and nobody really enjoyed it, but we got through it. Before we realized that Maggie was going to be a bit of a puke-bucket, I banished my dad from my car because I didn’t want him to pass whatever he had on to Maggie. Of course, a few hours later she decided to puke out whatever was in her stomach all over the backseat. It wasn’t very traumatic because after she puked, she was all smiles and giggles. I blame the sprouts from The Montana Club, but that’s another story.
Since my dad was shunned from our car, the only other option was to hunker down in the back seat of my grandparent’s car and hope to ride out his sickness because the other two cars were already in other states. Seeing his bobbing little head in the back seat peeking out of the window with a blanket pulled to his chin made him seem like a little kid all over again. Truthfully, I feel like I got a pretty clear snapshot of him as a kid and my grandparents as parents to their sick kid in the back seat. My grandma worried while my grandpa’s lead foot helped get them closer to home.
Being sick is plain awful no matter which way you cut it. I know that when I’m sick just hearing the voices of my parents makes me feel better, even if they’re just telling me to get some rest and drink lots of fluids. I also know that when Maggie feels badly, I’m the one that she wants and I’m the one to make her feel better. More often than not she just wants to be held and I’m more than happy to wrap my arms around her. Strangely, as our caravan moved closer to home at the end of our journey, I couldn’t help but wonder if my dad found the same comfort in having his own parents near by. Do we ever really grow up?
4 Gen ND Trip , Grandparents , MMM
On our last day in NoDak we went out to the farm where my grandma grew up, which is right on Sweetwater Lake….home to a million and a half HUGE mosquitoes. We survived the bugs, enjoyed a ride in a boat/8-Wheeler and had a wonderful meal. The house that my grandma grew up in is still standing, but no longer used and a new house is on the property and used by some of my dad’s cousins from time to time. The last time I was there was in 1989 and I mostly remember it being very windy.
My dad’s cousin, Mary and her husband, Jack, live nearby and were able to host us at the farm. They were such gracious hosts and I was a bit sad not to join the rest of the family the next day at their house to see Jack’s farming operation, but it was time for us to head back to the PNW. What follows are the photos that I snapped out at the farm, none of which include the little red house that my grandma grew up in or the mosquitoes.
I also have to say that I saw my brothers, Chaya, and dad take off on a 4-Wheeler down a trail and then suddenly they were floating in the lake, I was shocked. I thought to myself that OF COURSE my brothers would try to take an 8 wheeler in the water, then I discovered that is exactly what it is for. I felt a tiny bit bad for thinking my brothers would break something….then I got over it.
Enjoy the pictures.
If you make it to the end, there may or may not be one Maggie looking ultra cheesy in her anti-mosquito jumpsuit and her Webster School fresh forehead bruise.
4 Gen ND Trip , family , Grandparents , MMM
Webster School is Dead To Me
On one of our last days in North Dakota, we went to the old country school that my grandmother attended for a few years and the old building was beautiful, if not gorgeous. My grandma’s sister was also her first grade teacher, can you imagine that? The school is now privately owned by a family and we were lucky enough to get to wander through the beautifully restored building. Maggie got to enjoy some toys that belonged to a baby that sometimes lives there. But for all it’s glory, Webster School is dead to me.
We got to sift through some old school records that held many names that my grandma recognized, it was pretty amazing. Eventually Phil scooped Maggie up and took her outside to point at things…and that was all fine and dandy. At that point I still loved the school like a distant family member.
And then we posed for pictures…..
Then Maggie posed for some pictures alone, a few steps up from the bottom of the stairs and took a nosedive onto cement, thus making the worst sound in the history of heads hitting cement.
And that, my friends, is why Webster School is dead to me.
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