Friday, July 15, 2011

The Things We Do

Oh the things we do for family, for love and for the future...

I've been back at work now for two weeks and Joel and I have been really feeling the pressure of having two young children and two young businesses. I have been busy with the practice I am starting with three other wonderful docs. And Joel has been wrangling hops and hop growers all spring. In between it all our wonderful children grow and thrive, and learn patience.

Last weekend is all a blur and I can't recall if the events I'm about to share happened on Saturday or Sunday. Not that it matters. Not that you care.

You see, the Michigan Hop Alliance, Joel's fledgling company, has leased several acres of 3rd year hops on Old Mission peninsula. Each of the guys in the group is putting in time on these fields in hopes of a decent profit in the fall. But it is hard for all of them, or even two of them to get to the land at the same time. So last weekend I offered to help Joel out and drive our beat up Blazer down the rows of hops at one mile an hour so that Joel can hang the strings that these happy little plants grow on.

I reasoned that Adeline and Eliott could sit in the truck with me as I drove. If I managed that, then Joel could stand on the platform of the 20 ft tall scaffolding of doom he had constructed to fit on top of an old hay trailer. And it may have worked out swimmingly...but it didn't.

You see, our Blazer, though a trustworthy and stalwart vehicle, lacks certain amenities like heat and air conditioning and rear view mirrors. It smells like beaver dung and fluvial sediments of lives past. It sounds like a 747 readying for take-off though that might just be in comparison to my silent hybrid. And it if filled with junk mail, preschool art projects and empty snack packages not to mention power tools, half a dozen coffee mugs and a wasps nest or two. It also has a thermometer which tipped into the 90s as we careened up center road with the trailer rocking back and forth on the reese hitch behind us.

The peninsula is beautiful this time of year by the way, the cherries are beef red on their trees, the vineyards cast geometric shadows across rolling hills and the lake shines back at you, at times from every direction. Never the less it was F-n hot.

We reached the farm and Joel set up the scaffold. A chore that takes about a half an hour which by shear coincidence is the maximum attention span of our three year old. Lest I fail to mention it, she is in the wonderful "why" stage. (Why does this farm only have 3 chickens, why is the barn brown, why is daddy's drill going again, why is Eliott crying?)

I load Adeline back into the truck, letting her sit in the front seat next to me for the tediously slow trip down the rows of hops. (Why is this seat big? Why is that button there? Why can't I sit on the floor?) All the while Joel is on the scaffold giving instructions (A little closer, Stop, OK go)
About 10 minutes into it a new voice is added to the chorus. (WHHHAAAAAAAA, SOB, SOB, WWWHHHAAAAAAAA) Eliott is awake, and hungry. It has been, after all, 3 hours since he ate last.

I pause, throw the truck in park, (why are you getting out mommy?) and try to calm him down. But Eliott is dripping with sweat (the thermometer reads 92 now) and screaming at the top of his lungs.

So I did what any good pediatrician, mother would do. I brought him back to the drivers seat with me, threw the truck into 1st, (OK you can go now, keep it slow) pulled up my sweat drenched tank top and fed him. (Why is Eliott hungry mommy? Why is that bird there?) Then "mommy I'm hot." And I realize for the first time that Adeline is sitting in the sunny side of the truck, windows down. Her little face is flushed bright red and streaked with dirt that I hope came from the garden behind the barn and not the chicken coop. (STOP! Go slower.) Now Eliott's foot is caught in the steering wheel and he grunts.

Sweat and milk drip down my belly as we make the turn for the next row.

Adeline is quiet for a moment, glancing over I see she has found the empty clam shell packaging of Olsen's sugar cookies and is licking the frosting remnants directly from the plastic. (OK you can go faster.)

We eventually move Adeline to the back of the truck where she can riddle Joel with whys from the shade of the open rear hatch. Eliott finishes his meal and is content to soak his diaper and his car seat and I figure out just the right speed to match Joel's knot tying abilities.

On our way home I can't help but think that this would be one of those days that a great future is built on. One of those stories that you tell your children when they are old enough to be appalled that I drove and breastfed at the same time or that cars didn't always have AC.

But most of all I'm thinking that I'm glad I didn't bring the dog.

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