The girls and I are in Amish country again (apparently I have a thing for the Amish). I’m taking them to an amusement park for younger children (Dutch Wonderland) before they get too old to be interested in going there. Fi convinced me to go on the Fly Rider ride and I was so proud of myself for being the mom who goes on rides – until I realized I’d had too much Starbucks and I swear to God, if that thing went around just one more time I would’ve horked and embarrassed my daughter. I had to be helped off it and that was it for me and the rides. I’m thinking this will be the last year that Fi will be interested in going there and it makes me kind of sad, because it reminds me how quickly she’s growing up and how brief childhood is. We are also going antiquing and exploring the Amish Village, then home.
We’re near a town called – I kid you not – Intercourse, PA.
Which is near another town called – I’m not kidding – Fertility.
I tweeted about this, and a lot of you people had nudge-nudge-wink-wink replies:
The other nearby Amish town-with-another-sexual-name is called <drum roll please…!> Blueball.
And don’t forget to stop by Virginville.
What the…? I thought the Amish were upright. Now I’m even more fascinated.
We’ve seen quite a few Amish women driving the horse and buggy, and the men with their young sons working the farm with horses and plows instead of motorized tractors. The teenaged boys get around on contraptions that look like bicycle/scooters, only since they are not permitted to sit on a bike seat and use a pedal while riding around in Intercourse (because it’s considered too worldly in a town called Blueball, ahem), they have to stand on the bike like a scooter and use one leg to push themselves around.
It just stuns me. It’s like these people are frozen back in time. And they work so hard – from sun-up until the sun goes down. The hardworking women wake at 4:30 to cook breakfast for their farmer husbands. I just feel so sheepish thinking about the way I treat my husband, and how I am so lazy, in comparison with the Amish – if my husband gets up at 4:30 I have him go to Starbucks and bring me a cappuccino. At dinnertime if he’s lucky, he generally gets whatever leftover kid-food is around. Wouldn’t it be interesting to do an episode of Wife Swap with me and my husband, and an Amish couple? The Amish community would probably fire me by sundown on the first day, because I’d sit around and blog all day and say things like, “But where’s the swimming pool?” and “Why don’t I take you down to Sears so you can buy a tractor – you could plow your fields at night, in secret – and use the daytime to sit by the pool.”